The Shadowhand Covenant Read Online Free

you knew could be a Shadowhand, posing as a common citizento hide their true nature. The baker down the street, the nanny for the neighbor’s children . . . Anyone. You had to be the absolute best of the best to even be considered to join their ranks. And if they sent you an invitation, you’d better think long and hard about it. Because joining meant signing the Shadowhand Covenant. And that was serious business.
    Granted, I had no idea what the Shadowhand Covenant was, but I knew it was serious.
    Ma and Da smirked. “I doubt it,” Da said jovially. “They wouldn’t send a summons to the three of us if they were only inviting your ma and me.”
    We arrived at the Clocktower Inn, situated on the ground floor of Vengekeep’s only clock tower, and walked inside. Despite it being a bright day out, the inside of the inn was dark as pitch. Shutters blocked all the windows, leaving only the dwindling light from a fireplace near the bar to illuminate a path for us. Faint candles flickered on the dining tables. A handful of patrons sat nursing their quaichs filled with blaze-ale.
    Ma scanned the room, looking for a sign of our contact. She pointed to the far corner, the darkest part of the inn. Unlike the rest of the candles, which flickered with asoft yellow light, the candle in the corner appeared red and muted, as if it were behind a piece of glass.
    â€œThat’s the Shadowhand signal,” Ma said softly.
    I asked, “How do you know—?”
    Ma silenced me with a finger to her lips. We moved across the room and approached the corner table. A figure sat, back to the wall, submerged in shadow. Da cast an eye around to make sure no one was listening. We stayed at a respectful distance and waited to be addressed.
    â€œThank you for coming.”
    It was relatively warm in the inn, but ice shot down my back as I recognized the voice. The figure leaned forward into the candlelight, revealing the hardened face of Maloch Oxter.
    Maloch and I had grown up together, the closest of friends. I showed him how to pick locks and do sleight of hand; he protected me from the other children whose stuff I’d nicked. Then, about two years ago, that all changed for no reason. One minute we were friends, the next he was treating me like a demented gekbeak. Tripping me, shoving me. It got worse when he was made apprentice to Aronas, captain of Vengekeep’s stateguard.
    He became obsessed with catching my family stealing, relentlessly following us around town. Seven months ago, when Callie and I tried to sneak out of Vengekeep to get the ingredients we needed to destroy the fateskein tapestry, Maloch had nearly beaten me to a pulp in the catacombs beneath the city. When you’re a Grimjinx, you expect to have enemies. But I’d never dreamed my worst would be someone I once trusted.
    Maloch ran his hand over his impossibly short hair and waited for us to respond.
    â€œMaloch Oxter,” Ma scolded, her eyes ablaze, “you have no idea what you’re playing at. It’s very, very dangerous to impersonate a Shadowhand.” She lowered her voice. “They have spies everywhere, and if they were to catch you . . . Not even your father with his wealth and power could protect—”
    â€œSave your breath, Ma,” I said, glaring down at my former friend. “He’s not playing a game. It’s a setup. Any minute now, Captain Aronas and his men are going to storm the place and arrest us for conspiracy.”
    Aronas had never liked our family. We knew it hadn’t been easy for him when Da became his boss six months ago. I wouldn’t put it past him to entrap us.
    Maloch turned to Ma. “This is no game, Mrs. Grimjinx. The summons I sent was authentic. You must have verified that. I sent it on behalf of my father. He’s a Shadowhand.”
    The three of us gaped, unbelieving. Maloch’s father, Yab Oxter, owned and ran Vengekeep’s most