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

by Andy Peloquin

  “Of course. There are records of inestimable value held here, more than a few of which belong to my Lord Gileon. He values your thoroughness, as do I.”

  “I will admit,” Helmor said, hesitation in his voice, “that some of your master’s requests are somewhat…irregular.” He fingered the silver chain hanging from his neck. “It is uncommon for us to allow any outsiders into the records room. For security reasons, you understand.”

  “Irregular, but not unheard of.” Allon held the priest’s gaze. “Lord Gileon was very clear that I must store the records with my own hands.” He lifted the satchel from Ilanna’s shoulders. “They are not to leave my sight.”

  “Surely you cannot believe that we would allow your records to come to any harm.” Helmor’s displeasure leaked through his fawning. “The Reckoners treat the safekeeping of all documents with the utmost solemnity.” His voice rose in pitch and volume and his face reddened. “For centuries, these very halls have served as haven for the most vital and sensitive records in the city. Even through the Great Strife itself!”

  Allon held up a hand. “I intended no disrespect, good Reckoner. Indeed, my Lord has the utmost faith in your reverence for his personal records. Yet you read the letter. I must obey my master’s will. Perhaps there is some way to convince your superiors to allow me to carry out my Lord’s wishes.” He drew a purse from his robes. “House Beritane is ever aware of the Reckoners’ attentiveness to their duties.”

  Helmor took the purse from Allon. “A donation to the Temple is always welcomed.” He stroked the fine hairs on his round chin. “Let me speak to the Chief Reckoner. As you say, your request is not unheard of. He may be convinced to allow you to carry out your Lord’s command.”

  The rotund priest strode off, leaving them standing in the middle of the grand floor.

  Ilanna spoke in a whisper. “Think he’ll bite?”

  “Course he will. Lord Gileon’s letter and signet ring were all we needed, but a few imperials always go a long way with priests.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Unlike the persona of Alten Trestleworth, Lord Gileon Beritane actually existed. He counted among the wealthier nobles of Praamis, in name only. Few in the city knew that Lord Hunnan Beritane had squandered away the family fortune before his untimely death at the ripe age of thirty-two. Before sending a Serpent to do away with the foolish noble, the previous Master Gold had formed an alliance with his heir. The Night Guild provided finances to sustain the nobleman’s lavish lifestyle, and the young Lord Beritane gave the Guild legitimacy. The signet ring in Allon’s hand truly belonged to House Beritane. Gileon himself had penned and sealed the note. His services had proved invaluable on many occasions, worth every imperial the Guild spent.

  Reckoner Helmor shuffled toward them, a newcomer wearing a golden chain in tow. “Chief Reckoner Passitter, I have the honor of presenting Alten Trestleworth, private clerk to Lord Gileon Beritane.”

  Allon gave a short bow. “The honor is mine.”

  Chief Reckoner Passitter, a tall, lean man with a neat goatee, held out a hand. “The ring and note.” Allon complied. The upper priest squinted at the note, drew out a pince-nez, and settled it on the bridge of his nose. “All appears to be in order.” Returning the items, he turned to Helmor. “Deposit Lord Gileon’s donation in the coffers. I will escort Master Trestleworth personally.”

  Helmor rushed off without a backward glance.

  Passitter extended a long-fingered hand toward a nearby doorway. “Through here, good sir.” He glanced at Ilanna and raised an eyebrow.

  “She stays, of course. No need to stretch propriety any more than necessary.”

  The priest pointed at a wooden bench along a nearby wall. “She can wait for you there.”

  Allon turned to Ilanna. “Try not to wander off like last time, girl.” He poured a concentrated dose of scorn into his voice. “Unless you want the lash again.”

  “Yessir,” Ilanna mumbled and ducked her head. Shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, she scurried to the bench and sat.

  Allon muttered something about “useless scoundrel” and “wool-headed twit” as Chief Reckoner Passitter led him away. The priest tapped on the door, which swung open with the groan of hinges straining beneath an immense weight of metal. The clang as it closed reminded Ilanna of an anvil dropped from a second-story window.

  Bloody thing has to weigh as much as ten men, and is at least a hand thick. No way we’re getting in through there. She could only hope Errik found a better entrance.

  As she settled to a comfortable position on the bench, a half-dozen Reckoners rushed past her, scurrying toward a pasty man wearing expensive clothing cut in the ridiculous lacy, frilly style the nobles of Old Praamis found so appealing.

  The foremost priest bowed. “My Lord Munder, it is an honor.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lord Munder’s voice dripped impatience. “Now show me to the Grand Reckoner’s office at once. I’ve a meeting with the King to get to, but not before I deposit a few items.”

  “Right this way, my lord.” The fawning man backed toward a third entrance, one Ilanna hadn’t noticed. Four men stood guard, hands on their sword hilts, faces hard. “Grand Reckoner Edmynd awaits you in his office.”

  The rotund nobleman sniffed at the stairs but lifted his cloak and began the ascent. A servant bearing an oversized scroll tube hurried up behind him, the Reckoners in their wake.

  Time crawled by as Ilanna waited for Allon to return. She occupied herself studying the enormous chamber. A few dozen people milled around the temple. Merchants and noblemen spoke with grey-clad Reckoners, handing off heavy purses, chests, and satchels for safekeeping in the vaults of the Coin Counters’ Temple.

  The wealth stored within these walls rivaled that of the Royal Treasury. Merchants, nobles, and those unwilling to invest in a private vault entrusted their earnings to the Reckoners. The priests of the Apprentice kept meticulous records of every copper bit that flowed through their fingers.

  To hear the Reckoners tell it, they had never lost, misplaced, or miscounted a single coin. Anyone without a valid reason to enter the temple found themselves detained and subjected to ferocious, often violent questioning. The Praamian Guards at every entrance and exit discouraged even the most brazen pickpocket from theft.

  Yet the Reckoners’ greatest deterrent came from the fact that they served in the house of Garridos. Few would dare to risk the wrath of the gods for the sake of a few imperials. After all, the Reckoners taught, a man’s soul was worth more than all the gold in Praamis. To steal from the temple would bring down the Apprentice’s swift justice.

  Ilanna gave a quiet snort. Like that’s going to happen! The gods can’t hear us. She’d cried out to the Bright Lady, goddess of healing, when her mother lay dying. And again when Sabat beat her, broke her bones, and brutalized her. The goddess hadn’t listened; the gods cared nothing for the suffering of their people.

  Ilanna’s gaze fell on a tall man taking his place in the line that led to the Reckoners’ coin counting table, a small purse clutched in weather-beaten hands. He winked and gave her a snaggle-toothed smile.

  She rolled her eyes. Someone else is having too much fun playing dress-up.

  A commotion to her left drew her attention. The pack of priests appeared from the doorway a heartbeat before a huffing, puffing Lord Munder heaved his bulk down the last stair. He waved away the Reckoners, barked at his servant, and waddled toward the exit.

  Odd. Her eye fell on the servant. He doesn’t have the scroll tube with him. Perhaps the secretary had left it in the Grand Reckoner’s office. Maybe—

  Just then, the heavy metal door swung open and Allon strode into the vaulted chamber. Passitter hovered at his heels.

  “I trust your master will be satisfied?”

  “He will.” Allon inclined his head to the Reckoner. “I will ensure House Beritane’s contribution to the Apprentice is more than satisfactory next quarter.”

  Passitte
r gave a deep bow. “May the god bless your master’s endeavors.”

  “And yours.” Allon strode toward Ilanna, barking. “Up, girl! We’ve business to be about, and no time for your dozing.”

  Ilanna dipped her head. “Yessir. Sorry, sir.”

  With a nod to Passitter, he strode from the temple. Ilanna trotted to keep up.

  “You got it?”

  Allon tapped his head. “All in here. Or as much as I could manage with that busybody Passitter breathing down my neck.”

  “Will it be enough?”

  “It had better be. I doubt we’re going to get a second chance at it. Any sign of Errik?”

  Ilanna waited until they passed the guards before replying. “He’s there. Let’s just hope he can find a way in. Security’s tight.”

  “Even tighter, once you get into the records room.”

  “I want to hear all about it, but first you need to head back to the Guild and get Darreth to help you map the place. I’m going to hang around a while longer, see if Errik leaves and find out what he’s learned.”

  A passing merchant gave them an odd look as he tipped his hat to her. “You got it, boss.” With a grin, he strode down the street.

  Excitement set Ilanna’s heart racing. It begins.

  Despite her lack of faith in the gods’ concern for mere mortals, Ilanna found herself praying silently for the Watcher in the Dark’s aid. Her quest had begun and she’d take all the help she could get.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “How accurate is this?” Ilanna leaned over the table and studied Darreth’s blueprints.

  “If the Hound’s memory is correct—”

  “It is,” Allon cut him off, glaring.

  Ilanna nodded. “It’s why he was the one to deliver Lord Gileon’s documents.”

  Darreth inclined his head. “Then it’s as accurate as if the original architect himself had drawn it.”

  Ilanna smoothed the parchment. Rough lines marked the boundaries of the I-shaped Coin Counters’ Temple, with notations of distances between the various sections. Smaller squares and rectangles indicated the presence of shelves, racks, and cabinets.

  “Describe the temple layout to me, Allon.”

  Allon lifted the graphite stick from the table. “Right here,” he said, tapping a small rectangular chamber on the southeastern side of the building, “is the temple lobby where you waited.”

  See Blueprint:

  Ilanna’s eyes grew wide. “That? It looked a lot bigger when I was there.”

  The Hound nodded. “That’s how enormous the temple really is. That huge room occupies a fraction of the building.” He returned his attention to the blueprints. “Here, on the northern wall of that chamber, there are two doors. I’m guessing the eastern door leads to the vault where the Reckoners store the gold, silver, and copper that flows into the temple. Just beyond the western door, the one I went through, is public records storage. Mortgages, deeds, contracts, and the like.”

  Ilanna gave a dismissive wave. “None of which matters to us for this job.”

  “Most of the building is for public records, but this section here—” he tapped the chamber at the far north of the temple—“is for more sensitive documents.” He gave a mocking grin. “Reckoner Passitter didn’t take too kindly to my questioning the safety of Lord Gileon’s records, and he made sure I saw how secure it was.” He held up two fingers. “Two keys, each carried by a different Reckoner.”

  Ilanna stroked her chin. “Did you get a good look at the locks or the keys?”

  “I tried, but the Reckoners concealed the keys with their bodies. I did get a clear view of the locks. Looked a bit above my pay grade, if you know what I mean.”

  Ilanna chuckled. “Guess I’ll need to take a closer look. Did you see anything that could help Errik find a way in—not just for himself, but for me as well?”

  Allon’s brows furrowed. “Not really. The doors were bloody thick and the noise they made as they opened could rouse a sleeping Bloodbear.” He ran fingernails through his beard. “Alchemical lamps only, no windows that I saw.”

  Ilanna cursed and leaned over the blueprints again. “Problem is, this is just the first floor. If the Duke’s records aren’t stored in that back room…”

  “I saw a few staircases in the public records rooms. Maybe they’ll get us to the upper floors?”

  “Won’t know until we get in. That leaves us stuck waiting for Errik.” She ran a hand over the blueprint.

  “Don’t touch!” Darreth’s tone turned scolding.

  Ilanna raised an eyebrow, but Allon interjected. “Graphite smudges easy. Comes off easy, too.” He gave her a wry grin.

  Ilanna raised her hands. “Don’t want to ruin the plans.” She worried at her lip. “I think we’re best starting off our search in that back section. The Duke seems the sort to keep his records under lock and key.”

  “You sure you don’t want me with you? I’ve got a pretty clear picture of that area in my mind. I’d come in handy with the search, too.”

  Ilanna shook her head. “No. The more people that go in, the higher the chance one of us makes a stupid mistake. I won’t risk us all getting caught.”

  Allon looked unconvinced, but he nodded. “You’re the boss, boss.”

  She grinned. And don’t you forget it!

  “Keep working with Darreth and see if you can add anything more to these blueprints. The more detail I have, the better I’ll be able to get around in there.” She held up a hand to forestall his protest. “I’m not doubting your memory. But even the slightest thing—the placement of a desk, whether a door opens in or out, even the color of the furniture—can make a difference.”

  “Color of the furniture?” Allon tilted his head, incredulity written plain across his face.

  She gave him a condescending sigh. “Some colors reflect lamplight better than others. Color also indicates the finish of the material, or even the material itself. Metal shelves hold more weight than wooden. Need I go on?”

  He held up his hands. “I defer to your wisdom, oh great and wise Hawk.”

  “Damned right you do!”

  Joost’s laconic drawl echoed from a nearby armchair. “If the two of yous are quite done with your flirtin’, maybe you can tell us what we’re meant t’be doin’?”

  Ilanna stiffened. In her study of the temple layout, she’d forgotten about the two Foxes. “I need the two of you to keep an eye on the place tonight.”

  “Anything partic’lar ye’ll be wanting us to look for?” Veslund scratched his bushy beard, adding to the pile of flakes on his lap.

  “Everything. Guard patterns in and around the temple, comings and goings of the Reckoners, light in the windows. The more I know about the place, the better.”

  “Got it.” Joost uncurled his lanky frame from the armchair and stood, towering a full head and a half over her. “Better get a warm jacket, Ves. Looks like it’ll be a cold one.”

  Grunting, the bearded Fox followed his companion from the room.

  Darreth stood from his wooden stool and gathered his graphite sticks, rulers, compasses, and other odd paraphernalia. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take my leave. House business. Back in the morning.” His eyes never met hers as he nodded and slipped from the room.

  Ilanna gave the blueprints one last look before rolling them up and slipping them into an oversized scroll tube. The tube went under the loose floorboard beneath Joost’s armchair. No one but she, Allon, and Darreth knew the hiding place.

  She turned and collided with Allon’s chest. She stiffened as his arms snaked about her.

  “Errik won’t be back for a few hours.” His whispered words felt hot on her neck, and he nuzzled against her ear. “Seems like we’ve got time to slip off and—”

  She extricated herself from his embrace. “Not now.”

  The Hound wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. “Why not?” He pushed the door closed with his foot. “We won’t find a more private place in the Guild t
han here.”

  “I…” Ilanna cast about for an excuse.

  He stepped closer. “You know that what we’re doing isn’t wrong, right? There are no rules against…fraternization. Fiery hell, if you knew how many times Master Hound and Journeyman Serah have…”

  “I know, Allon.” She hid her revulsion behind a saccharine smile. “But don’t you want someone who’s actually present? My mind’s all full up with worries about the job.” She spoke in a breathy voice, tracing a finger down his chest. “I’d rather save it for when we’re done and we can focus on what really matters.” Her hand slipped to his trousers and she applied more pressure.

  His breathing quickened, and he stirred against her grip. “Sweet gods, Ilanna!” He pressed against her.

  She slipped away. “After, I promise. See you tomorrow, Allon.” With a cherubic grin, she gestured to the door, resisting the urge to scrub her hand on her clothes.

  “That’s plain unfair.” Groaning, he shuffled out the door, half-crouching to hide his body’s reaction.

  She pulled the door shut, and the lock engaged with a click. Lifting the key from around her neck, she inserted it, twisted, and shot the deadbolt home.

  Satisfied, she strode down the tunnel toward the Aerie. There, she caught a glimpse of the snaggle-toothed man from the temple.

  “What’d you find?”

  Errik tugged the false teeth from his mouth. “A Watcher-damned lot of security, that’s for sure.”

  She shrugged. “Priests love their gold.”

  “Oh, I could’ve found my way into that vault my first month in House Serpent. But the record room’s buttoned up tighter than Conn’s bunghole.”

  Ilanna’s laugh turned into a snort. “That bad, huh?”

  Errik nodded, his grin fading. “I’ll need a couple more days to figure out the best way in.”

  “We’ve got time. Our way in and out has to leave no tracks, even if it takes longer to figure out.”