Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2)

by Andy Peloquin

  “I was.” Garrill met Master Gold’s eyes. “But I swear by the Watcher himself that we made no move to harm Adarus until he attacked us.”

  “What’s a man to do?” The quiet moan came from the slumped Adarus. “If he can’t even feed himself, how’s he s’posed to live?”

  Master Gold opened his mouth but Adarus hadn’t finished. “Yes, I took the money, and yes, I killed the damned Hound, but what choice did I have? You take everything from a man, you back him into a corner like an animal and you’re surprised when you get bit!” He stepped forward, eyes burning. “You say the Night Guild is a brotherhood. Pah!” He spat at Master Gold’s feet. “This is no brotherhood! There’s no honor in what we do. We’re just a pack of thieves, thugs, and killers. Me, I can’t live with that. The rest of you, well, that’s between you and the Watcher.”

  He rounded on Master Gold. “You carry out this pretense of fairness, but it’s no more justice than Duke Phonnis sending men across the Field of Mercy.” Adarus straightened and his voice rang out in the Menagerie. “I stole from my House, I killed a man, aye. But when you’re so hungry and tired you can’t think straight, when you’re so cold you’d set yourself on fire just to feel warmth, that’s when you’ve had enough. I did what I had to to get out of this Keeper-damned place. At least I’ll die knowing I tried.”

  Adarus seemed to deflate, the defiance melting from his eyes.

  After a tense moment of silence, Master Gold turned to the House Masters. “You have heard the testimony of Journeyman Garrill, and the accused has condemned himself out of his own mouth. What is your verdict, Masters of the Guild?”

  The seven spoke in unison, albeit in quieter voices. “Guilty.”

  Master Gold folded his arms over his chest and bowed. “Journeyman Adarus of House Fox, you are convicted of the crimes of larceny and murder. Alone, each carries a heavy sentence. But together, we are left with no choice.” He drew himself up to his full height. “By the laws of the Night Guild, I sentence you to the Sanction.”

  A gasp rose from the crowd and Adarus collapsed.

  Two Bloodbears entered the room, pushing a man-sized, wooden wagon wheel between them. A third carried a wooden club, steel spikes, a mallet, and an axe.

  The wheel was laid flat on the floor and Adarus’ body draped over it. The four Bloodbears held his wrists and feet against the rim of the wheel.

  Master Gold took the mallet and spikes. “Upon completion of your Undertaking, you swore solemn oaths—oaths you have broken.” He raised the three spikes. “One for House Fox. One for the Night Guild. One for the Watcher in the Dark.”

  He stood over Adarus’ prone form. The Fox struggled against his captors but his wiry, malnourished body had no hope of breaking free of the hulking Bloodbears.

  “As you broke your vows of service to the Guild, so, too, your bones shall be broken. As you severed your ties with your brothers by dishonoring their trust, so, too, your hands and feet shall be severed. With your eyes, you coveted your House’s riches. With your tongue, you swore a false oath before the Watcher. Let the offending parts be removed, so you may stand before the Long Keeper cleansed of your shame.”

  He passed the spikes and mallet to one of the Bloodbears, folded his arms over his chest, and gave a deep bow. “Let justice be served.”

  Ilanna clenched her fists as the screaming began.

  Chapter Ten

  Ilanna shivered, but it had little to do with the chill wind shrieking across the quiet rooftops. Adarus’ screams still rang in her ears hours after the man had died.

  She’d attended two executions since becoming a Journeyman. One, a Scorpion convicted of poisoning a rival in House Serpent, died at the end of ten Serpent blades. The other, a Grubber caught falsifying his earnings, met the justice of his House: a live burial. Those deaths paled in comparison to the brutality of the Sanction.

  The images refused to leave her head. Broken bones, a mass of shredded flesh, and the quiet screams of Adarus as he begged for death. The severing of his hands and feet had finally granted him an escape from the torment.

  Her fingers clutched the crumpled parchment in her pocket. The Guild had convicted Adarus of murder and larceny. She, too, was guilty of those crimes.

  For years, she’d lied about her earnings to Bryden. A risky gamble but she had no choice. She only had a few more years to take Kodyn—and herself—away from Praamis. For that, she needed money.

  She’d hacked Sabat to pieces, buried his body in her garden. The Night Guild had suspected her from the moment Sabat disappeared but could not convict her without proof. Whoever left the notes had also brought the bloodstained dagger she’d interred with the apprentice’s corpse. They knew the truth of Sabat, and used that knowledge to compel her obedience. She couldn’t risk evidence being brought forward against her.

  Which was why she crouched on the roof overlooking the Alamastri mansion, studying the movement of the guards below. She risked the Guild’s wrath by obeying the note. After all, the Alamastris paid the Crown for protection.

  But this wouldn’t be her first time slipping into this particular mansion. Since the first time with her fellow Hawk apprentices, more than a decade earlier, she had paid the Alamastris at least a dozen visits. She only took small items worth a few imperials—enough to feed Kodyn for a few weeks, but not enough for the Alamastris to miss—and left no sign of her presence.

  She reached for the thin rope that spanned the gap to the distant rooftop. She’d crossed that same line fifteen years ago; the Alamastri house guards hadn’t spotted it, hadn’t taken it down. With a smile, she draped her body over the rope and began the slow crawl across.

  The familiar activity brought back the memories of her friends. Prynn, Werrin, Willem, Bert, Denber: all had joined her the first night she’d made the crossing. Only Willem remained alive.

  Enough. She pushed away the pang of sorrow. I’ve no time for mourning. I’ve only an hour to get in and out, then I’m off to finish the Count Chatham job.

  * * *

  With a grin, Ilanna slipped from the open third-floor window of Count Chatham’s villa and hauled herself up the rope. If his security is any indication, he really does need the Crown’s protection. It took longer to get here from the Alamastri’s than to finish this job.

  The skull-head dagger embedded in his bedside table would send the Guild’s message clearly. Another ten imperials a month, in the pocket.

  She calculated sums in her mind as she stole across the rooftops, her grey clothes hidden in shadow. With what she had in Bryden’s ledgers and the money hidden in her house—plus what she’d stolen from the Alamastris and Count Chatham—she could scrape together close to thirteen thousand imperials. By the year’s end, that number would be closer to fifteen thousand.

  Not enough to live like a King, but enough to get by. It’s a start. She’d figure out how to explain the existence of the extra gold to the Guild Council later. Better if they never learned about it, but she’d talked her way out of bigger problems.

  The nameday choosing ceremony and Adarus’ execution had reinforced her desire to be free of the Night Guild. No, she thought as her hand stole to the hawk figurine in her purse, her need.

  She wouldn’t stop stealing to feed her son. She couldn’t disobey the notes for fear of being exposed, and her attempts to discover their source had proven fruitless. She had to be free of the Guild before whoever sent the notes decided they no longer needed her.

  The Night Guild had made it clear: they saw her as an investment. They had expended time and resources turning a child into a capable thief. She had to repay their investment by earning her keep. But if she could put together enough money, perhaps she could buy her way free. Master Gold claimed the Guild cared most about profit. She would prove it more profitable to let her buy her freedom than keeping her enslaved.

  Since Kodyn’s birth, she’d sought the largest scores possible, risk or no. Her fellow Hawks wanted quick money and less risk. The m
onths spent preparing for her Undertaking had taught her an important lesson: repetition reduced risk.

  She had entered Duke Phonnis’ gardens nearly twenty times before her final attempt. She’d spent hours scaling walls, training her muscles in preparation for the Black Spire. All those hours had enabled her to succeed where others had failed.

  She approached each job with the same attitude. Instead of seeking out new marks, she broke into the same homes every time. Her familiarity with the layout of the houses made it easier for her to navigate to her target and obscure any signs of her presence. Her marks never knew she entered, so they took no measures to keep her out. She had boiled it down to a formula, a science of burglary none of the other Hawks—not even Master Hawk—could rival.

  Her fellow Hawks passed the time relaxing, spending their earnings, and lounging around the tunnels. She used every hour of the day in training and casing potential new marks. She watched new mansions being erected in The Gardens or old ones torn down. She studied the city architecture to learn new, more efficient ways to travel the Hawk’s Highway. She worked with Jarl and the Pathfinders to establish quicker routes.

  Other thieves used the rooftops to reach their destination; she made the Hawk’s Highway work for her. Praamis was a giant maze. Instead of being confined to the two dimensions of roads and alleyways, Ilanna used the dimension of height to be a more effective thief. Her path led across, over, through, around, and between—the path of least resistance and shortest trajectory. New buildings simply meant one more stepping stone.

  Leaving The Gardens, she turned toward the ancient Praamian Wall. Her path cut through a section of Praamis belonging to more affluent merchants. Their homes lacked the fortifications of The Gardens; they stored their wealth in the vaults of the Coin Counters, priests of the Apprentice. She dropped from an overhang onto a rooftop terrace, darted across the tiled floor, and leapt up the low wall on the far side.

  Balconies, chimneys, drainpipes, ledges, ladders, and pillars were more than simple architectural fixtures; they gave her access to the secrets of Praamis. Architecture offered the comforting illusion of safety, as if four walls with windows and doors and ceilings with skylights could magically keep out those like Ilanna who wanted to get in.

  No matter how complex the security system, she would get in. The Duke’s Arbitors made her job more difficult, increased the risk, but they couldn’t stop her. Anything the Duke could dream up to keep her out, she could find a way in.

  His traps had nearly caught her in the Black Spire. Because of the Duke and his guards, the Night Guild had lost dozens of Journeymen to the hangman’s noose. But he’d made a mistake when he hanged Denber and sent Werrin through the Field of Mercy. He’d executed people that mattered to her. He had turned her into his enemy.

  She couldn’t kill him—King Ohilmos would wage war on the Guild in retribution for his brother’s death—but she could ruin him. And in doing so, she would earn her freedom.

  A weight lifted from her chest as she leapt atop the crumbling remains of the Praamian Wall. In the days when war ravaged Einan, the city wall had once risen forty paces into the sky. Long centuries had passed since battle visited the cities of the south. The walls of Praamis had fallen into disrepair, the stone carted off for construction. Only a few sections of wall remained—a reminder of the past.

  The wall marked the southern boundary of the sprawling shanty towns, warehouses, and markets of the Praamis metropolis. The wooden buildings beyond the wall lacked the sturdy permanence of the multi-story stone and granite constructions within.

  Ilanna loved to study the city from the one short stretch of wall that hadn’t been torn down. From her vantage point, she could see the concentric rings of wealth that grew narrower and grander the closer one drew to the Royal Palace. Nearer the wall, whitewash peeled from crumbling stone and clay roofs lost their luster.

  Leaning back against the cool stone, she drew out the fistful of coins she’d taken from the Alamastri mansion. Gold shone in the early morning light. She smiled. A few more imperials to add to my collection.

  Bryden wouldn’t hear of these. He’ll just have to be happy with what I’ve taken from Count Chatham’s.

  She hadn’t found coins lying around—how inconsiderate of him—but Lady Chatham would never notice the gold necklace missing from her jewelry box. The Guild fence, a shifty man by the name of Filch, would give her a receipt to deliver to Bryden.

  And, of course, he’ll give me that suspicious look of his. Damned fool doesn’t trust anyone! Not that she’d given him reason to trust her. Her fellow Hawk had no way to confirm his suspicions, but that didn’t stop him doubting her.

  Not for the first time, she wrestled with the problem of the money she had hidden. If the Guild accepted her offer to buy her freedom, how would she explain where the eight thousand imperials had come from?

  If my plan for the Duke goes off right, it won’t matter. The money I’ll earn from that heist will more than make up for it.

  But first, she needed the Guild Council’s approval to go after the Duke. There was the chance the Guild Council would find her plan too risky. After all, it would set her not just against the Chief Justiciar, brother to the King, but she would be desecrating a temple. Not something to take lightly, even for a thief.

  I have to try. The Guild could turn her down, but that wouldn’t stop her. She would do what she must for her son. If that meant going up against the Night Guild and Duke Phonnis both, so be it. She wouldn’t let the Guild sink their claws into Kodyn. Her son wouldn’t grow up without a mother.

  Dawn brightened the horizon. The sun would be up soon, and the Guild Council would convene. But she didn’t have to rush off yet. She could bask in the pre-sunrise coolness and forget—if only for a minute—she would soon face the greatest challenge of her life.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk.”

  Ilanna looked up as Journeyman Entar called her name. Master Gold’s aide ushered a shabby-looking Grubber out of the Council Room and beckoned her. “The Council will see you now.”

  With a nod, Ilanna stood and followed Entar into the chamber.

  The sparseness of the room took her by surprise. She’d half-expected plush rugs, lavish furniture, and bright, ornate decorations to adorn the room. Bare earthen walls and floors met her eyes.

  Thirteen men and two women sat behind the red oak table that stretched the length of the chamber. The Masters of the seven Houses with their seconds-in-command, and Master Gold at the center. They waited in silence as Entar led her to the heart of the room.

  “Stand here.”

  Ilanna did as instructed. The aide scurried around the table and slipped into the empty chair beside Master Gold.

  The Guild Master steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “What brings you before the Guild Council, Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk?”

  Ilanna resisted the urge to draw a breath to calm the fluttering in her stomach. These fifteen people held her life in their hands. She bowed and tightened her grip on the little hawk figurine she’d purchased on her way back from Count Chatham’s mansion. “Master Gold, House Masters, esteemed members of the Guild Council. I come before you with an…unusual request.”

  Master Hawk’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t said anything to him, a fact he clearly disliked.

  She turned to Bryden. “Tell me, Journeyman Bryden, you are the bookkeeper for House Hawk, are you not?”

  Bryden stiffened. “I am. What of it?”

  “Do you have record of my total earnings since becoming a full Journeyman?”

  He gave a jerky nod. “I do.”

  When he offered no further answer, she inclined her head. “Could you read out the sum total for the entire Council?”

  Bryden’s face reddened and Master Hawk’s jaw muscles worked. The House records weren’t strictly secret, but each House preferred to keep their income private. Only Master Gold saw all the accounts—and Entar, the Guil
d bookkeeper, of course.

  Master Hawk gave a slight nod of his grizzled head and Bryden cleared his throat. “To date, Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk has earned the sum of ninety-eight thousand, four hundred and ten imperials.”

  Master Grubber and Master Fox gasped, and the color drained from Master Bloodbear’s ruddy face. Ilanna knew from her time spent among the Foxes that these three Houses were fortunate to earn that in a year. The Masters of the remaining three Houses gave no response, but their aides had less self-control. Journeyman Erys, the bookkeeper of House Serpent, peered down at her ledger. Anorria’s slim, scarred hands tightened around the black leather tome holding House Scorpion’s finances, and Eburgen of House Hound fixed his eyes firmly on the table before him.

  Ilanna fought back a smile. “And what, Journeyman Bryden, is the amount I am owed by House Hawk?”

  Bryden squinted down at the ledger. “After expenses—food, board, Guild fees, the cost of equipment, and such—Ilanna of House Hawk is owed four thousand, six hundred and fifty imperials.”

  She let the number hang in the air. The House Masters exchanged glances with their aides. Their personal fortunes far surpassed hers, but they had saved up for decades. They didn’t need an abacus to calculate how long it would take her to eclipse them.

  “I fail to see the relevance in all this, Journeyman Ilanna,” Bryden snapped. “If you insist on wasting the Council’s time—”

  Master Gold’s glare silenced the Hawk. The Guild Master leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed intently on her. “I, too, find myself curious as to the direction of your thoughts. You say you have a question. Ask it.”

  Ilanna drew herself up to her full height. “I wish to buy my freedom from the Guild.”

  A stunned silence filled the room. The Masters of House Fox, Grubber, Scorpion, and Bloodbear stared at her with uncomprehending eyes. A smile tickled at Master Serpent’s lips. Master Hawk’s face could have been carved from stone, but his dark eyes held the chill of disapproval.