Bloodless

by Roberto Vecchi

  “I am going to have a look around. I should be back before nightfall,” he said without looking back.

  It was not a long walk to get to his tent, and as much as he desired to stay within the wonderful company of his current distraction, a young woman who had such a talent and desire for kissing, he was resolved to uncover the nature of his suspicions. Though he had spent some time in Tatherton before, it was not long and he did not know much of the city or its people. He did know, however, that it was very large and successful. They had made a name for itself as having a very low crime rate. Sure, there were still the local pickpockets working the scene and there was a small faction of the Thieves’ Guild, but its presence was very small when compared to others in cities of equal size. For whatever reason, the Thieves’ Guild had failed to maintain all but the smallest influence in Tatherton.

  Because their camp was close to the city, he reached its gates almost before dawn completed its coup against the moon. The city was much as he remembered it. It was surrounded by a stone wall, as were most of the well-developed cities of the Silver Empire. Its gate was rather large and remained open from the early morning hours to the late evening hours. There was not a large presence of guards as one would expect for a city with such a low crime rate. But the contention was that when residents were all content and busy, then there was less opportunity and desire for both unorganized and organized crime syndicates to develop. And from what he remembered of his time inside, most of the inhabitants were quite content.

  Gaining entrance was very easy in contrast to just about all of the other large cities regardless of whether he was questioned or not. Most of the time, he was able to maintain his relative anonymity by adopting any one of his pre-developed, fictional personas. The more time he devoted to his back story, the more believable it would be, and the more anonymous his true identity would remain. Though all of his colleagues crafted their false personas with diligence and thoroughness, he fell into them with a consumptive necessity surpassing even the most dedicated thieves. Perhaps it was an attempt to create a cover story for more than just his past life, or perhaps he had truly given himself over to being a thief; regardless, he developed a nearly inaccessible gate around who he was in favor for who he pretended to be. He remembered when he was questioned by the Grand Inquisitor of Pretago Cor himself for two straight days, and not even he was able to break down the gate guarding the inner courtyard of Jaro’s pain. So, when he came to Tatherton’s guard post and found only one guard present who did nothing more to slow his progress except to offer a courteous nod of acknowledgement, he grinned and wondered why he chose not to spend more time thieving within its borders.

  As with all large cities, there was a wide, inner circle of mostly businesses and residences devoted primarily to driving the economy surrounding a very large market. There were guard posts stationed in regular intervals throughout this inner circle, just like the other major cities. However, the ones in Tatherton were much less threatening than the others. Indeed, some were even without a guard presence whatsoever. As he walked through the streets, he was somewhat confused by the residences as well. Most of the housing units, stacked at least three to four levels high, appeared to be vacant.

  Each residential area was divided into several districts. Most of the time the districts reflected the differing levels of affluence between its residence. As Jaro walked more toward the interior of the city’s outer ring, he noticed this pattern was also reflective of Tatherton’s organizational structure. Though not as grand as some of the mansions in cities like Pretago Cor, nor those of the shipping merchants of the costal port cities, the residences toward the interior were still impressive.

  During his walk around the city, he noticed that all of the normal activities of any city were intact. The guards were on patrol, but there seemed to be considerably less than what he expected. The forges and merchants’ stores were open and currently busy. He even witnessed a funeral procession. Children were playing any number of games in the streets and in the parks. Mothers and fathers were busy attempting to coral their progeny in between their daily chores. Tatherton was, for all practical purposes, a normal city in all areas and observations except one - there was absolutely no presence of an active Thieves’ Guild.

  To explore this, he decided to observe a beggar who was currently slumped over and resting by leaning his seated back on the wall of a local business. The grass roots income, the very bread and butter of the Thieves’ Guild, including every individual faction to the whole loosely organized total entity, was derived from its very intricate and well concealed League of Beggars. You see, most of the upright people in cities and towns think that people who ask for charity do so out of an innocent need to sustain their barely sustainable lives. It is this concept of innocent charity that allows one of the most intricate structures of organized crime to exist without any interference from authorities. Indeed, most of the time, seeking to appear benevolent, these very entities of authority actively contribute to either individual charities such as the corner beggar or downtrodden single mother, or to the large and organized charities such as the Women’s League Against Poverty. Regardless of which charity is the chosen destination for the monetary infusion, there is at least a small portion, and sometimes a large portion of it, that ends up lining the coffers of the Thieves’ Guild.

  So, he sat and watched; however, the true art of surveillance is not found in only what is gathered, but in the very means utilized in its gathering. For what good is knowledge if the instrument of gathering it is discovered and compromised before the complete portion of that knowledge can be disseminated? So, while Jaro sat and watched, by no means was his sitting inactive and static. He took great pains and went to great lengths to appear as any number of normal inhabitants of Tatherton. Several times guards walked past him and each time they did, he had appeared to them as someone different. Just as assassins seek to mark, research, and execute their targets in secrecy, so do the thieves of the Guild. As such, Jaro was no novice with disguises and the avoidance of detection.

  Throughout the day, the beggar used all of the techniques employed by the Thieves’ Guild, so there was no doubt he was a member, or at least used to be a member. But just watching and observing the techniques did not yield the information Jaro desired. To uncover that, he needed to follow the beggar after his shift was over, hoping it was part of an already established routine. If not, there was no telling how long he would have to observe his mark.

  As it happened, Jaro had a little bit of fortune on his side because the beggar started to move from his spot not long after the guards had set the street lights to glow. Following someone and remaining undetected was easy enough when it was one of the simple residents. However, when the target had been trained, it was a much more trying endeavor. There were many more factors to consider. Should he be discovered, the mark would undoubtedly alter his normal pattern of depositing his daily take delaying it until such a time when he was absolutely certain he was not being followed. Or, the beggar could lead him into the belly of the beast, as it were, pretending not to have noticed him at all. Either way, discovered or not, gaining access to Tatherton’s Hall of Thieves would be very difficult.

  As the beggar turned the corner, Jaro increased his pace hoping to close the distance without the risk of being seen. Had Tatherton’s Thieves’ Guild possessed a greater visible presence, he would have taken strides to prevent being seen by a third-party observer, not an uncommon tactic employed by larger guilds to ensure everything their thieves had collected had actually been deposited. After all, thieves were thieves and would be thieves without regard from whom they were thieving. But Jaro had to risk it. He needed to recover his line of sight to further track this beggar as soon as he could. For a skilled thief could disappear with only a moment’s opportunity. As Jaro turned the corner, he was relieved when he found the beggar continuing his walk. However, his relief was short lived because he took an unexpected turn down a narrow alleywa
y forcing Jaro to accelerate his steps once again. This time, when he turned down the alley way, he did not see the beggar again. He did, however, establish a whole new line of sight with three other individuals who had been waiting for him. Before he could react, the larger of the three men struck him square in the jaw rendering all concerns a diffuse shade of black. And in the blackness of unconsciousness, there was no line of sight to establish.

  “I had not anticipating capturing them until they had been droned into a sense of security. That we were able to capture one so quickly will have exceeded the new Lord’s expectations,” he heard a voice say as his mind cleared.

  “Indeed. Has Lord De Lu Montage been notified yet?” said a second voice.

  “Yes. A messenger was sent as soon as we secured him. He should have delivered the message already. I would not expect the Lord Montage to appear before he speaks with the traitors in the morning,” said the first voice. “We were able to detain the beggar he was following as well, though we can see no connection between the two. What do you want me to do with him?”

  “Detain him for the evening and let him go early in the morning,” answered the second voice.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Until tomorrow, Lieutenant,” said the Captain. Jaro heard a set of footsteps walk away followed by the sound of a door opening and then closing. He heard another set of footfalls follow the first.

  “Why were you following me?” asked another voice.

  Jaro opened his eyes to see that he was inside a small cell. It looked to be a temporary holding cell that would typically hold criminals until such a time as they can be transported to the castle’s formal dungeons to await trial. That he was not in the bowels of the castle was a relief because escape from there would be more difficult than a simple a holding cell in a simple guard building.

  “Well? Why were you following me?” asked the voice again.

  “I was not following you,” lied Jaro.

  “Come now. Yes, you were. You were pretty good though. It took me a little while to notice,” said the man.

  “How were you able to mark me, but could not mark the three guards you ran into?” replied Jaro. He thought the voice sounded familiar, but he could not place from where. He looked at the man, and while his face also looked familiar, much like his voice, he could not identify from where. Deciding subterfuge would no longer be productive, he decided upon the truth, “I wanted to find answers.”

  “How would following a beggar lead you to answers,” chuckled the man.

  “Come now,” it was now Jaro’s turn to call his bluff, “you are no more a beggar than I am an honest man.”

  “Indeed,” said the man, looking intently. “Very well, if you tell me why you chose to follow a beggar as your source for information, I will tell you who I am. And, if you are as wise and as clever as you think, it should answer some of your questions.”

  Jaro looked at the man again, attempting to ascertain his formidability. Clearly, he was more than a simple beggar. Most of the time, those in the guild relegated to begging were chosen not because of any particular skill set, but because they possessed an innate look of forgettability. That this man was able to correctly identify him even before he indicated he was likewise skilled in the area of disguises and observations indicated he did possess a specific and enhanced skill set. Again, he decided against deception as those most adept at discovering it were those most adept at producing it. “I was seeking information about the Thieves’ Guild. In particular, why it was so inactive in a city of this size.”

  “Interesting,” said the man as he stood up. “Very well then, maybe this will answer some of those questions,” he said as he began rubbing his face. In matter of a few moments, his squared features faded away and his face became much more angular. The man bent his head down and seemed to rub his eyes. First the left one, and then the right one. When he was done, he pulled out a small container from his torn clothing and opened it. It was no larger than a scribe’s spectacle case. He placed something inside, but Jaro could not tell what it was. When the man looked back toward him, Jaro understood why the man went through such lengths to disguise himself. Staring back at him were the piercingly pale blue eyes and angular features of Gridder De Lu Montage.

  “This is an interesting turn of events,” said Jaro.

  “As you can tell, I am a man of many hats. And one of them is leading the Thieves’ Guild in Tatherton,” he said.

  “How many hats do you wear exactly?” asked Jaro.

  “Enough to ensure the balanced prosperity of Tatherton and its people. And right now, that means I have to wear the hat of a faithful Lord of the Realm. By that I mean I have to be faithful to my people. And to do that, I have to make sure their lives are not threatened. So, you will of course forgive me when I turn you and the whole of your pilgrimage over to the new Lord of the Stone Keep, or Blood Keep, or whatever he has chosen to call it,” said Lord Montage.

  “So, the Lord Kahl knows of our whereabouts?” asked Jaro, not without a small level of anger.

  “Yes. I dispatched riders the moment I first heard of your little pilgrimage. My fastest, as it were. They should reach The Stone Keep soon if they have not reached it already. Undoubtedly, an appropriate force with be sent with all haste. And if the rumors are to be believed, they will be given an unnatural speed. I expect them to arrive quickly,” said Montage.

  Jaro stood. Montage squared his shoulders. “You will understand, of course, why I cannot allow this to continue,” said Jaro.

  “I expected as much. Well, get on with it,” said Lord De Lu Montage setting his feet in a martial stance.

  Before Jaro could respond, Montage advanced and dissolved the distance between them in a blur of quickly erratic movements. At first, he was unable to follow the unorthodox attacks. It was Montage who landed the first punch to the side of Jaro’s face which had already been injured from the first punch he received that day. But one does not rise in the Thieves’ Guild without being able to adapt to the unexpected. Instead of resisting the momentum of Montage’s fist, he absorbed it, as painful as it was, and used it to his advantage. Spinning, he swept the legs out from his adversary. But as Montage fell, he extended his arm catching Jaro’s ankle, jerking it hard.

  After a moment, both combatants collected themselves from the hard, wooden floor and squared off again. This time though, Jaro did not wait for Montage to engage his undulating advance and attacked. Montage was quick though, and was able to sidestep before Jaro was able to sweep his legs a second time. Leaving himself open for a flank aimed advance, Jaro attempted to compensate by twisting all the way round, however, Montage anticipated it and was ready. Three punches, one landing against Jaro’s kidney, one striking his right thigh causing an immediate cramp, and another reinforcing the bruise against the side of his face, broke any further thoughts of attack. Montage was more formidable than a simple Lord. He was a scrapper, a fighter, and used to street brawls. But then again, so was Jaro.

  Montage forced his advantage, but now that Jaro devoted his energies to only those required for defense, he was unable to produce the successful results he had in the first few minutes of their fight. That is not to say he was not able to land some punches, and even the occasional kick, but their effects were muted because of Jaro’s ability to absorb and correct angles minimizing their effectiveness, though they were talking their toll. His lungs hurt to breath. His leg was beginning to cramp again. His arms were growing heavy. He must have broken a rib because. Jaro’s time was running short. In a last-ditch effort, he flung himself toward his opponent. Again, Montage was ready. He stepped sideways wrapping Jaro in a tight choke hold. His grip was strong. It would only be a matter of moments before Jaro’s unconsciousness would set in and he would be at the complete mercy of his opponent.

  He had one possibility. He gripped Montage’s arm with both of his hands using it to lift his feet of the ground. Luckily, he was close enough to the cell bars to place his feet ag
ainst them. He shoved with everything he had left in him, cramp included. Jaro’s leg strength, combined with an already leaning back Montage, caused the two of them to crash against the ground. At the instant Montage’s back struck the concrete floor, Jaro jutted his head backward striking Montage’s chin. The result was a hugely forceful impact of Montage’s head against the unforgiving, wood floor. The impact was so great that even Jaro felt his teeth rattle. Instantly, Lord Montage’s grip around Jaro’s neck went limp and his breathing stopped.

  Jaro turned over and saw trickles of blood leaking from Montage’s ears and nose. After quickly checking the man for his pulse, he wasted no time and searched dead man’s body for a key to the cell. He did not find one, but he did find something just as useful. Well, for a thief of his skill they would be useful. From one of the hidden pockets, he found Lord Montage’s set of lock picks. He used them to quickly pick the cell door lock. Before leaving, he propped the corpse up against the wall and did the best he could to remove the fresh blood from its face with the sleeve of his shirt.

  Hoping he would find a quick exit through one of the windows, he unlatched it, raised the inside pain of glass, and looked out only to find he was on the third floor of a building. He considered working his way through its interior while hiding from the guards, but he did not know the lay out. Nor did he know the locations and numbers of the guards within. Deciding against it, he looked out of the window again, but saw nothing providing a means to scale down safely. He looked to the left and saw nothing. He looked to the right, but before he could examine the next building, he heard a loud shouting. A fraction of a second later, he heard the crystal clear, frantic ringing. He looked out of the window again to his right and did see a window ledge about five feet away and about ten feet below his current height. It would have been a difficult jump even without his injuries, but his cramping thigh, cracked rib, and several other minor bruises were dictating he take a more reserved course of action.