Redemption of Thieves (Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

markings covering the surface. Small writing was scrawled across the ball and, peering closer to make it out, I realized I was looking at a map of the provinces and surrounding areas stretched over a globe. I’d never seen anything like it before.
    I turned my attention from the objects on the shelves to the tidy arrangement on the desktop. An inkpot, blotter, and quill stood on the right side where the hand would naturally fall and stacked next to these were a few clean sheets of parchment. At the other side of the desk was spread a clumsy heap of scrolls and in the center stood a candle stand holding a cold stub of wax, mostly melted away.
    As I circled around behind the desk, I couldn’t help thinking what a perfect opportunity this was. Almost too perfect. Could the Praetor have some ulterior motive for leaving me alone in this room? Something he wanted me to find? I dismissed the thought as a ridiculous one. Why should the man want me to riffle through his desk? For another moment I held back, studying the silver-knobbed drawers longingly, then I cast a cautious glance over my shoulder and gave in to temptation. I had vowed to obey the Praetor, it was true, but I was fairly certain he’d never specifically commanded me not to snoop through his things.
    I ducked behind the desk and slid open the upper drawer on the right-hand side. Nothing. Some extra sheets of parchment, more stoppered pots of ink, and a slender book. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, but it contained nothing of interest. A shower of pressed flower petals and leaves slipped from between the pages as I turned them and I replaced the sprigs with some amusement before putting the book back into the drawer. I wouldn’t have thought the Praetor the sort for collecting sentimental mementos.
    The second drawer held a thick sheaf of papers. I only had time to scan a handful but they all seemed to be ancient notes on the history of the Skeltai race and the use of magic in the provinces in the days before the land became settled and most of my Skeltai ancestors driven out. That was surprising since the Praetor was so adamantly opposed to magickers. Why should he study a people and a practice he hated?
    I spent little time on the next drawer as it only contained more dried plants, this time chopped into bits or preserved whole in jars. As I glanced over them, I noticed a stoppered bottle filled with a reddish liquid resembling dried blood. Another vial, half-empty, contained some blackish substance I didn’t want to guess the origins of. A peculiar smell of decay emitted from this collection and I moved on quickly. It was in the bottom left drawer that I eventually made a discovery in the form of a delicate, silver-worked box. There was a pretty little lock on the lid, but I would be a poor thief indeed if I didn’t carry a lock-pick and know how to use it. I took care not to damage the lid or the lock, and in moments, I had the box open. Its contents gazed up at me.
    A feeling of unreality settled over me, for looking up at me was a familiar face, miniaturized in a framed portrait small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Before I knew what I was doing, I was holding the miniature. I almost didn’t know my own Da. Indeed, I wouldn’t have known him if his face hadn’t been fresh in my mind after my recent dream. He was young here, perhaps no more than twenty, and more finely dressed than I had ever seen him. There was a wistful look around his eyes and a solemn cast to his clean features. It must have required a skilled artist to capture him so perfectly. The kind of portraitist a farmer of dubious origins should never have been able to afford. Who had commissioned this likeness, and more importantly, how had it fallen into the Praetor’s hands? Was it part of some plan to control me? Had he been researching my family history?
    I scrambled to make sense of this finding. I couldn’t reconcile my memories of my gruff father with his weathered