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

by Andy Peloquin

  Ilanna strode among the shelves, keeping a wary eye open for traps. She doubted she’d find any. Grand Reckoner Edmynd wouldn’t risk the wellbeing of the wealthy nobles who came here. She laughed at the mental image of the rotund Lord Vorrel caught up in a rope snare or the haughty Duke Phonnis furious over robes shredded by a trip wire.

  She opened boxes and notebooks, unrolled scrolls, and flipped through portfolios at random, moving from section to section quickly. Midnight had just passed—they had less than five hours before sunrise. She and Errik needed to be long gone by the time the Reckoners awoke.

  Her quick search turned up an invaluable store of information on the inhabitants of Old Praamis—the secrets of manufacture held by Lord Riddian, private business arrangements between Lords Kannassas and Illiran, and letters incriminating enough to send their owners to the Royal Dungeons. But the Duke’s documents eluded her.

  Think like the Duke, she told herself. The most powerful man in the city brings his private records here, but where would he store them? The metal shelves and cabinets, iron-bound chests, and wooden crates that held the other nobles’ documents wouldn’t suffice for the King’s brother. No, he’d demand someplace extra special for his belongings.

  “Errik, look for something that stands out from the rest.”

  The Serpent cocked an eyebrow.

  “A fancy chest, an especially gaudy cabinet, an ornate shelf—anything that would make you think you were getting special treatment.”

  Ilanna had preyed on the nobles’ arrogance for years. Their reputations mattered above all else. They never reported missing money, wouldn’t admit losses to their fellows. It made them perfect targets—that and their seemingly endless wealth. She depended on the nobles’ unending rivalry, with Duke Phonnis leading the way.

  “We’re standing in a secret room accessible only by an elevator from the Grand Reckoner’s private office. How much more special does it get?”

  “Just look!” Ilanna pointed to the opposite end of the room. “The Duke would insist on preferential treatment.”

  An ornate bloodwood cabinet stood at the end of a row of shelves. Ilanna marveled at the exquisite details of the intricate symbols etched into the scarlet wood. Bloodwood came from one place on Einan: the Crimson Forest, a small grove thousands of leagues northeast of Praamis. The clay-rich soil gave the wood its color, made it harder and denser than oak, teak, or even the black ironwood of the Twelve Kingdoms even farther northwest. Old-growth bloodwood was worth far more than gold and jewels, among the rarest materials in the world. Felling even a single tree required weeks of hard labor. Craftsmen labored for years to shape the material. The cabinet—two arm’s lengths wide and a head taller than Ilanna—cost more than all the mansions in The Gardens combined. Its platinum locking mechanism seemed a pittance by comparison.

  Ilanna ran her fingers over the lock. She couldn’t simply force the cylinder, not with the metallic guard set flush against the cabinet door. There was only one way in: she’d have to pick the lock. Knowing the Duke, it wouldn’t be easy.

  She drew out a rake and tension wrench and set to work. One deft stroke of the rake over the pins and she cursed. She’d never encountered a ten-pin lock before. This is going to take a while.

  The minutes ticked by at an agonizing pace as she maneuvered the pins into place. Her hands cramped from holding the tension wrench. More than once, she had to stop to wipe sweat from her face.

  Something about the lock plate seemed off. She couldn’t explain it, but even the slightest pressure of her fingers set it twitching.

  Realization struck her and she froze. Slowly, she withdrew the tension wrench, stuck it to the lodestone on her bracer, and reached for a wrench with an extra-long handle. When the lock clicked open a moment later, the lock plate gave way and a tiny needle stabbed out of the locking mechanism. Had she not switched wrenches, the sliver of metal would have pierced her finger.

  Bloody twisted hell! A ten pin lock and a poison trap? This is definitely what I’m looking for.

  She gave the door a gentle tug and inserted a dagger into the crack. The blade hit no trip wires or back-up snares. With a sigh of relief, Ilanna opened the cabinet.

  “Errik!” Excitement set her heart racing. “I found it!”

  The Serpent slipped through the rows of shelves toward her. “About bloody time.” Ilanna glared at him, and he held up his hands. “No indictment of your skill, Ilanna. Just figured three days is a lot of time to spend at this.”

  “I thought they taught you Serpents patience.” She gave him a hard look. “I don’t suppose they taught you to read?”

  He shrugged. “A bit. You won’t find me reading Modan’s Principles of Probability, but I’m no Bloodbear.”

  She pointed at the mountain of scrolls on the bottom shelf. “Then take these and start reading.”

  “Aren’t we looking for blueprints?” He pointed at the papers stacked on the top shelf.

  “I’m looking for blueprints. You’re going to see if you can find anything useful on the Arbitors in there. Training instructions, guidebooks, manuals, guard rosters, client list, anything! The more we know, the easier it’ll be to avoid them.”

  Groaning, Errik drew a scroll and unrolled it.

  “And make sure to put them back exactly the way you found them. On the same page, knot tied the same, everything.”

  Errik muttered under his breath. “Trying to tell me how to do my job.”

  Ilanna turned back to the cabinet. The pile of oversized, over-thick papers had to belong to the Duke. She could barely reach the documents stacked on the top shelf, much less examine their contents. Sighing, she dragged out a handful and spread them on the shelf beside Errik.

  She shoved the topmost blueprints aside after a cursory examination, her lips twisting into a wry grin. She’d already broken into the Black Spire once—she had no need to learn the locations of the traps and snares installed in the tower chamber.

  The blueprints beneath required more attention; the complex images and notations made her head swim. She found herself wishing she’d brought Darreth. His skill with numbers and letters would make him the perfect partner to help her find what she sought. The image of the lithe-fingered Scorpion clinging to a rope high above the ground made her chuckle.

  “I hope you’re having better luck,” Errik grumbled. “I’m not finding a damned thing about the Duke.”

  Ilanna stood and eyed the documents. “What’ve you got?”

  He pointed to a stack of papers. “This looks like the Grand Reckoner’s private correspondence.” His finger indicated the scrolls she’d handed him. “These might be ledgers of business deals, though I can’t make sense of them.”

  She elbowed him aside. “Let me take a look.”

  The columns of names, numbers, dates, and what seemed to be amounts intrigued her. She recognized more than a few of the people on the list. Whatever the Grand Reckoner was doing, it involved enormous sums of money. The fact that he felt the need to store them in the most secure place in the most secure part of the temple spoke volumes. If only she could understand the notations.

  Her interest waned after perusing a few more scrolls. “We’re not here for the Grand Reckoner. Put these back where they belong—exactly how you found them—and start working on those up there.” Her finger indicated the scrolls sitting on the shelf beneath the blueprints. “They ought to be the Duke’s documents.” The Duke would keep all his records together, even if he had to share the storage space with Grand Reckoner Edmynd.

  “Makes sense.”

  Ilanna returned to poring over the blueprints. Her excitement mounted with every new schematic and diagram she studied. The Duke provided security to fully a third of the nobility and wealthier merchants of Praamis. Given time to study them, these papers would reveal every secret, every flaw, every vulnerability in the security systems.

  But she didn’t have the time—or desire—to study them now. She’d come for just one.
>
  She examined the notations, markings, diagrams, and labels on each parchment with care. The sheer volume of information overwhelmed her, numbing her mind. The light strained her eyes, set her head aching, yet she forced herself to continue. She wouldn’t leave until she found—

  Her heart stopped mid-beat. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, and leaned closer. She read the name on the blueprint three times before her mind registered. Lord Auslan.

  Fingers trembling, she tugged the blueprint free of the pile. Adrenaline surged in her veins and she held it up to Errik with a grin.

  His questioning glance turned into a broad smile at her expression. “You did it!”

  She punched his arm, excitement lending force to the blow. “We did it.”

  Errik rubbed his arm but his grin didn’t waver. “Now replace it and let’s get out of here.”

  Ilanna unscrewed the top from the scroll tube and drew out a sheet of the Duke’s special blueprint paper. Master Gold had obtained it for her—at great cost, he’d made clear—in anticipation of her success. The parchment lacked the notations and diagrams of the authentic blueprint, but she’d had Darreth illustrate a layout of an imaginary vault. If the Duke happened to count his blueprints, he wouldn’t find any missing. Only close scrutiny would reveal the imitation. A one in a million chance—she liked her odds.

  She rolled up and slipped the Duke’s blueprints into the tube, sliding the forgery into the stack, which she replaced on the shelf. Errik had already returned the Grand Reckoner’s documents to their place. Holding her breath, Ilanna set the spring on the needle trap, careful not to touch its poisonous coating. She studied the room, searching for any sign of their presence. The steel-lined walls kept out moisture and dust so they didn’t have to worry about leaving footprints. She had only to straighten a few items on her way to the door.

  She clipped her harness to the rope, slung the scroll tube strap over her shoulder, and stepped onto the ledge. Muttering curses, Errik climbed into his harness.

  “If it makes you feel better, I can bring Allon next time.”

  The Serpent scowled. “If it involves these bloody harnesses, I hope you do. Damned Hound can have his bollocks pressed in a vise.”

  She smacked his head. “Get up there, you whining lout.”

  Errik swung across the shaft and began the ascent.

  The light in the vault dimmed and faded as she pulled the doors shut. She reached for her lockpicks, then remembered the outer door had no locks. Good thing they’ll never know I was here. Can’t have them upgrading their security.

  Above her, Errik grunted with the effort of hauling himself up the rope. Ilanna followed with a dexterity earned through more than a decade of daily training. The scroll tube rested comfortably against her back. They had what they came for.

  On to the next—

  Something clanked overhead. Ilanna froze, heart hammering. An odd whirring sound filled the shaft and she bit back a shout as something hard scraped across her back. Horror sent icy feet dancing down her back.

  The elevator!

  “Climb, Errik!”

  She hauled herself up the rope at a pace even a sailor would envy, breathless and fighting a stab of panic. Errik’s body blocked out the light as he slipped through the hole in the wall.

  A part of her mind shrieked in time with her furiously beating heart. What the hell is the Grand Reckoner doing visiting the vault at this time of night? She couldn’t stop to ponder.

  The opening hung ten paces above her head, then five. The air around her grew heavy, as if an immense weight descended. She didn’t know how fast the elevator car moved; she only knew she had mere seconds to reach the hole in the wall. The frantic effort set every muscle in her body screaming. Her hands burned, her legs and arms ached, and her back cried out.

  She couldn’t stop.

  Three paces. Two. One. She threw herself through the hole. Stone tore at the skin of her shoulders, back, and hips. A heartbeat later, air puffed from the gap as the elevator cart descended.

  “Ilanna?” Errik’s voice held a mixture of horror and anxiety.

  She lay on her back, gasping for air, feeling every twinge and pain. Terror blended with exhilaration, and laughter bubbled up from her chest. “I’m here.” A giggle garbled her words. She fought to control the mirth borne of the narrow escape. “I made it out.”

  He blew out a long breath. “Bloody hell, Hawkling. Don’t scare me like that!”

  Ilanna drew in a long, shuddering breath and reached for the scroll tube. “We got it, Errik. By the Watcher, we’ve bloody well got it!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Gentlemen, we did it! Best of all, no one knows we were ever there.” She and Errik had waited until the elevator returned to the third floor before replacing the stones, shoving the debris and dust under a pile of furniture, and dragging a shelf to cover the hole.

  Joost and Veslund stared at the tube wide-eyed. The twitching of Darreth’s fingers sped up, as if he ached to unscrew the lid and discover the mysteries within.

  “Well?” Allon reached for the tube. “Aren’t you going to show us what we worked so hard for?”

  Ilanna slapped his hand with a grin. “Tomorrow.”

  His interest turned to disappointment. “Now that’s not fair, Ilanna! Surely we deserve at least a glimpse of—”

  “Tomorrow.” The clink of a purse on the table cut Allon’s words mid-sentence. “Tonight, you get a full night of sleep. After a few dozen drinks. On me, of course.”

  She dropped a pair of imperials into Joost and Veslund’s hands and the Foxes rushed out the door. Darreth and Errik reacted with more decorum, inclining their heads. “I owe you one, Hawkling. Until tomorrow,” Errik said and followed Darreth.

  Ilanna turned to Allon. His crestfallen face proclaimed his displeasure. “Don’t give me that look, Hound. You know how I like to keep my little secrets.” She ran a finger along his jawline. “From what I recall, you’re quite happy with one of my secrets.”

  His dissatisfaction transformed to interest in a heartbeat. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  She pressed her body against his. “A promise is a promise, isn’t it?” Stomach churning, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She suppressed a shudder as his arms slid around her waist and pulled her closer. “Perhaps we should take this someplace else?”

  Allon followed her through the tunnels of House Hawk with an eagerness his trousers failed to hide. Thankfully, Ilanna knew the House would be mostly empty at this time of the night. Those Hawks not in their beds would be occupied by jobs. The thin sliver of moon gave just enough light to see on the Hawk’s Highway, but plenty of darkness for third-story work.

  Allon radiated impatience as she inserted the key into her lock. He half-dragged her over to the bed before she’d fully closed the door.

  With a sly smile, she pressed him onto the bed and stepped back. She dropped her belt and pouches to a heap in the floor, tossed her cloak atop the pile. Her fingers danced over the buckles and snaps of her leather jerkin. Eager desire shone in Allon’s eyes and his gaze followed the upward motion of her thin undertunic. When she finally removed her trousers and stood fully naked before him, he all but ripped his clothes off.

  He stood, reaching for her, but she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. “You’ve done good work, Hound.” Her voice held an imperious, commanding edge. His breath came fast and blood rushed in his face. Ilanna climbed atop him, a saucy smile on her face. “Your reward, as promised.”

  He groaned as she guided him inside her. His hands reached up to the soft roundness of her breasts, but she seized his wrists and leaned forward to trap them against the bed. He buried his face in her chest, his tongue dancing across her flesh. She gave the obligatory moans and cries of pleasure, and his body moved faster in time with his increasing arousal. Her grip on his wrists tightened, her nails digging into his flesh.

  She stared down at the m
an on her bed as if from across a vast gulf. It seemed as if someone else controlled the sensuous undulations of her body, produced her sighs of feigned delight. She felt only disgust at his touch, the reek of his sweat, the hardness pressing against her.

  Much as she hated this part, she had to do it. She needed him for what came next.

  * * *

  “Sweet Mistress!” Sweat stood out on Allon’s forehead. His breath came in gasps. “Just when I think I know everything about you, you surprise me. How d’you keep getting better at this?”

  “What can I say?” Her syrupy smile hid her true feelings. “I’m just that damned good.” She arched her back in a stretch she knew would hold his gaze.

  “No arguments from me.” Allon’s eyes slid down her body.

  Ilanna reclined against the footboard. “You know, in everything that’s been going on, we haven’t had the time to talk much.”

  The Hound cocked an eyebrow. “You? Talk?” He gave a sardonic chuckle. “Will wonders never cease?”

  She dug an elbow into his ribs. “What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Allon clutched his side with a theatrical groan. “Let’s just say our interactions don’t extend beyond the job and the bed.” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. You’re damned good at both. But we’ve never done much in the way of talking.”

  “Well, I’m giving it a try now. So shut up and talk.”

  He laughed. “Of all the women in the world, Ilanna, I had to take up with the most complicated, incomprehensible, stubborn, independent thief ever to walk Einan.” He twirled a lock of her hair. “Most beautiful and sensual as well.”

  “Flatterer!”

  A part of Ilanna knew she should cherish his compliments. The way he looked at her spoke volumes about his true feelings. Yet she couldn’t muster anything beyond grudging acceptance. She allowed him in her bed because she needed him. He was her mark, her body simply another tool to use for a job; intimacy always made him more pliable.

  He grinned. “So what d’you want to talk about?”