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

by Andy Peloquin

  The story of Agarre the Giantslayer had been one of her favorites when she was younger. She’d dreamed of being the heroine who killed the giants of the Empty Mountains. That was all before the Night Guild. Reading the story brought back memories of a happier time, sitting in the cozy stuffed armchair with her mother.

  Kodyn snuggled into her chest as she read, pointing at the illustrations on the pages and playing with the carved hawk figurine. From the corner of her eye, Ilanna caught Ria sitting on the stairs. The dark-skinned girl occupied herself with the repair of one of Kodyn’s shirts, but she couldn’t hide her interest in the story.

  Ilanna hid a smile. She and Ria shared more than just their love of Kodyn. They had both lost a great deal, endured horrors that should have crushed their spirits. Ilanna’s suffering had hardened her, but Ria’s eyes held a glint of wide-eyed wonder. Ilanna hadn’t felt that since the day her father sold her to the Night Guild. The slavers had taken Ria’s childhood, but the dark-skinned Ghandian girl remained unbroken.

  Kodyn’s breathing grew rhythmic and heavy as she read. When she finally reached the end of the story, he murmured. “Ria, sing the song?”

  “Of course, little one.” Ria set aside her sewing and came to sit by Kodyn. With a shy smile for Ilanna, she began to sing.

  Though Ilanna didn’t understand the words, the haunting melody stirred something within her. The song spoke to her of home, of family, of sorrow, and love. Memories of her mother, Ethen, and Denber drifted through her mind, brought a lump to her throat. She closed her eyes to suppress the tears. The warmth of Kodyn’s body melded with hers, and she allowed herself to be carried along on the tune. Slowly, gently, she slipped into a peaceful rest.

  * * *

  The crack of a burning log tugged Ilanna from her sleep. The smell of wood smoke and the glimmering light of fire filled her senses. She cracked an eyelid. Ria sat beside the fire, the book of stories open in her hands, running a gentle finger over the illustrations.

  The girl looked up as she stirred. “Nightfall is two hours past.”

  Ilanna glanced at the child in her arms. Ria had draped a blanket over them. “I must go.”

  “You looked like you needed sleep.” Ria stood and lifted Kodyn’s sleeping form. The boy murmured and wrapped his arms around her neck, and she rocked him.

  Ilanna stretched. Her neck ached from the awkward position but she felt more rested than she had since beginning the Duke’s job. “See if you can find some gokulah unguent for his burns.”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.” Ilanna met the girl’s gaze. “I…” She swallowed. “I won’t be coming around for a while. A few weeks at least. There’s a job…”

  Ria nodded. “I understand.” She stroked Kodyn’s hair. “He misses you, you know. Asks where you are.”

  Ilanna drew in a deep breath. “I know. And it kills me every time I leave him.”

  “Telling you to stay would be to waste my words. You do what you must for him.”

  “But not for much longer.” She bent to retrieve the figurine that had fallen from Kodyn’s hand, setting it on the mantelpiece beside the rest. Ten sets of avian eyes stared at her with silent recrimination. “After this job, things will be different.”

  An earnest intensity burned in Ria’s dark eyes. “I hope so. For his sake, and yours.”

  Ilanna turned away. “Goodnight, Ria.” She tugged on her cloak and strode to the door. “I will return as soon as I can, but I rest easy knowing he has you to care for him.” With a heavy heart, she slipped into the darkness of the Praamian night.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ilanna froze at the door to her room, eyes fixed on the scrap of parchment sitting on her table. Ignoring the viola beside it, she opened the folded paper. Lord Ulimar, it read.

  Mind racing, she stuffed the paper into her pocket and rummaged through her equipment chest. She’d just delivered the skull-headed dagger to the Ulimar mansion a few weeks before. Why would Master Gold want me to go back? It didn’t make sense.

  Perhaps Lord Ulimar hadn’t paid for the Crown’s protection, and the Guild Master sent her back to…convince him. If so, where’s the threat? No dagger lay beside the note.

  She slipped into her dark grey clothing, cloak, and the baldric that held her blades and the pouches for her lockpicks and other gear. She’d planned to visit a few houses anyway; it wouldn’t be too difficult to add Lord Ulimar’s mansion to her targets for the night.

  But it didn’t sit right with her. Master Gold had told her he needed money to pay the other House Masters and their Journeymen. Had his patience run out? Was the note his way of prodding her to move quickly? It rankled that he would resort to blackmail. Hadn’t she proven herself to him often enough?

  Sighing, she slipped her daggers into place, locked the chest, and replaced it under the bed. She strode down the hall toward Master Hawk’s chambers and office. The heavy oak door stood open, and the House Master sat at his desk.

  “Master Hawk?”

  Master Hawk looked up and groaned. “What is it, Ilanna?” He lifted a mug filled with frothing beer. “It’s not often I get to enjoy a meal undisturbed.”

  “Just a second of your time, I promise.”

  With a pained expression, the House Master pushed the tankard away. “How can I help you, Journeyman?”

  Ilanna ignored the chill in his voice. “Lord Ulimar.”

  “What of him?” The House Master leaned back in his chair.

  “I visited him a few weeks ago, left him the Guild’s message. Has he requested the Crown’s protection yet?”

  Master Hawk produced a key from a pocket, inserted it into his desk drawer, and clicked the lock open. He unrolled the scroll and ran his finger down the list of names. “As far as I can see, he…hasn’t?” Furrows appeared in his forehead.

  “What is it?”

  Master Hawk’s frown deepened. “I could’ve sworn I saw his name.” He ran an absent-minded finger over his scar.

  “You’re sure?” Age hadn’t dimmed Master Hawk’s mind; he didn’t forget little details. The House Master gestured at the list.

  “It’s Bryden’s handwriting, no doubt about it.” Updating the list counted among one of the Journeyman’s duties. “Everything looks right. I’ll run it by Bryden, just to be certain.”

  Ilanna nodded. “So Lord Ulimar is not on the list?”

  Master Hawk shook his head. “Fair game. Make sure he gets the message this time, eh?”

  “Thank you, Master Hawk.”

  The House Master inclined his head. “By the way, Bryden was looking for you earlier. Seemed less than his usual chipper self.”

  Ilanna gave a puckish grin. “I’ll just go and find him straightaway, won’t I?”

  Master Hawk snorted. “Just don’t wait too long to talk to him. Else he’ll bring all his whinging to me.”

  “Of course, Master.” Ilanna swept an exaggerated bow. “I’ll leave you to your beer.”

  The House Master waved her away, reaching for his beer with his other hand.

  Ilanna shut the door behind her. Her fingers curled around one of her belt daggers. Time to ensure Lord Ulimar is very clear on where he stands with the Guild.

  * * *

  “Oi, Filch, open up!” Ilanna pounded on the door of the ramshackle warehouse.

  Ilanna wiped her hands on her cloak and wished to be anywhere else. The stink of Fishmonger’s Row turned her stomach, and the wooden buildings around her looked one strong breeze from collapsing. But she had goods to fence.

  “Whoozit?” A slot opened at eye level, and a tired voice drifted through the decrepit door. “Oh, ’Lanna, it’s you.”

  Ilanna fought down her impatience. “Yes, it’s me. Now open up. Stinks almost as bad out here as in there.”

  Filch mumbled under his breath, and a series of clicks and thunks sounded as he shot the bolts and locks. The door swung open and Filch poked his head out the door. With a quick glance up and down the stre
et, he motioned for her to enter.

  Ilanna followed him inside and waited for him to re-lock the door. The light of an oil lantern outlined the unkempt man. On the wrong side of fifty, with half as many teeth as he should have, Filch wore a nightshirt that had seen better days before Ilanna was born. Calling his beard and moustache ratty was an insult to rats, and the man’s belly seemed over-large on his twig-like frame.

  Door secured, Filch turned to Ilanna, rubbing his three-fingered hands together. “What’cha bringin’ me? Something val-yoo-ble, I trust?”

  She snorted. “Have I ever wasted your time?”

  Filch inclined his head. “Step into my office, if’n you please.”

  Ilanna walked a few paces behind to avoid his reek of unwashed flesh and whatever food stained his nightshirt. Her stomach protested at the thought of being enclosed in his office, but that was the price she paid to deal with the Guild fence.

  As she followed Filch around a haphazard stack of pallets and boxes, the dilapidated, chaotic appearance of the warehouse gave way to precise organization. Trinkets of gold, silver, steel, iron, and other metals mundane and precious sat in crates on shelves. Filch’s appearance screamed “gutter scum”, but no one in Praamis could match his skills at fencing stolen property. Those skills explained why he bore the responsibility of selling off the loot packed into the warehouse.

  The fence led her through the rows of shelves and into a small office. Alchemical lamps filled the room with ample illumination. Binders and notebooks sat stacked on a cabinet behind the ornate desk that occupied far too much of the cramped space. Slipping into his usual chair, he motioned for her to take the opposite seat. “Now, what brings Ilanna of House Hawk to my humble warehouse at this ungodly hour?”

  Ilanna drew out a necklace and slid it across the table without a word.

  “Intriguin’.” Filch’s eyebrows rose and his hand shot out to snatch the jewelry. “Masterful work, this piece. Crimson ruby channel-set in white gold.” He turned it over and hefted it with a thoughtful expression. “Solid weight, so the gold’s not too heavily alloyed.”

  Ilanna swallowed her impatience. Every visit served as a reminder of why she despised dealing with Filch.

  The fence looked up. “Sorry, girlie, it ain’t worth all that much.”

  Ilanna’s fingers twitched toward her belt dagger, only to remember she’d left it in Lord Ulimar’s mansion. That, and the ominous note—“In four days, you stand before the Long Keeper” it had read—should convey the Guild’s message with sufficient clarity. Good thing she had more blades to use to correct Filch’s coarseness.

  “It’s not girlie.” Filch flinched as she drew the dagger and set to work cleaning her nails. “Suppose you tell me what makes that worthless?”

  “Not worthless. Just can’t be sold whole.” Filch licked his lips and held up the necklace, bottom side up. “See this?” He tapped the smooth gold surface with a fingernail. “Some sort of inscription.” He settled a jeweler’s loupe on his right eye and squinted down at the piece. “To the keeper of my heart, yours forever, Adann Ulimar. Touchin’, innit?”

  Ilanna cursed. She’d lifted the piece from Lady Ulimar’s jewelry box at random. The inscription meant the necklace had been custom-made and, therefore, recognizable if Filch tried to pawn it off.

  “Still,” Filch said, shrugging, “gold’s good enough to melt down, and that ruby’s value ought to make it worth your time.”

  “How much?”

  Filch sat back, eyes fixed on the necklace, and scratched his filthy face. “Couple hundred imperials, easy. If you’re really nice,” he gave her a leering grin that showed far too many gaps in his teeth, “might be I’ll give you a full three hundred. The stone’ll be hard to make disappear, but I c’n manage.”

  Three hundred imperials. Ilanna fought down her frustration. She’d hoped to come away from the night’s efforts with a lot more. The next phase of the Duke Phonnis job would occupy all her time and attention. She didn’t know when she’d have a chance to steal more. At least it’s something. Master Gold had sent her to Lord Ulimar’s, so he’d have to be happy with the results.

  Filch leaned forward. “Got any more?”

  Ilanna shook her head. “That’s it for now. You know me, I like to steal coins. Harder to trace.”

  Filch shrugged. “Not worth as much.” He held up the necklace. “Little’un like you couldn’t carry this weight of gold or silver across Praamis. Might be you think about that next time, eh?”

  Ilanna scowled. “You let me worry about the thieving, and I won’t tell you how to repulse every skirt in Praamis. Seems like the both of us are doing our jobs just fine, Filch.”

  Filch laughed. “Y’always know how to make business a pleasure, ’Lanna.” He reached for a notebook. “Let me give you a stub. Bryden likes his books nice and tidy, he does.”

  Ilanna folded her arms and watched Filch fumble with the pen and paper. He gripped the quill between thumb and forefinger, with his middle finger to steady it. The Guild took their money seriously. More than a few fences had found themselves staring down a Serpent’s blade after mistaking the severity of sneaking off with gold that belonged to the Night Guild. Filch held the record for longest-surviving Guild fence. His career hadn’t been without mistakes. The Night Guild had taken the last two fingers on his left hand the first time he’d tried to cheat them, and the two fingers on his right the second time. A third, and he’d be short a neck.

  “There you are. Payment stub for three hundred imperials for one inscribed necklace from Lord Ulimar.” He slipped the paper across the table and replaced the quill. “If’n that’s all, I’ve a warm bed to get back to.” He gave her a leering grin. “Can’t tempt you to join me, eh?”

  Ilanna’s dagger pierced the table a hair’s breadth from what remained of his right hand.

  Filch flinched and half-squeaked. He gave a shaky laugh. “Seems that’s a no.”

  Scowling, Ilanna stood, wrenched the dagger free, and strode from the room.

  “You didn’t have to ruin th’ table!” Filch’s wail followed her through the warehouse. A smile split her face as she threw open the locks and bolts and slipped out into the night.

  Three hundred imperials for the pretty trinket. She patted the purses in her pocket. With the rest, that’s a decent take.

  She muttered a silent curse. Of all the necklaces in the box, I had to grab that one! The inscription meant it held value to Lord Ulimar—or Lady Ulimar. There was a chance he’d raise a fuss when he discovered it stolen. It didn’t matter that she’d been in a hurry. She should have taken the time to study the jewelry to ensure it bore no identifying marks. She preferred no one found out about the houses she hit, the only way to keep her extra looting a secret.

  At least Master Gold will be pleased. With the imperials in her pocket and the information she’d extracted from Allon, perhaps the Guild Master would stop trying to coerce her with the notes. He had to see that their mutual interests aligned. At least, until the day she purchased her freedom.

  And with the next phase of the Duke Phonnis job, that day is not far off!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ilanna studied the men standing around the table. “So, are you ready to find out how we’re going to take down the most powerful man in Praamis?”

  “’Bout bloody time,” Veslund growled.

  Joost grinned at his fellow Fox’s impatience. Darreth’s fingers twitched faster than usual. Even Errik’s cool façade couldn’t quite mask his interest.

  Allon laughed. “You’ve had us dying to know for days, Ilanna. Enough with the dramatics and get to it.”

  Ilanna’s smile came easy. “Fair enough.” She produced the blueprints she’d stolen from the Coin Counters’ Temple and unrolled them on the table. “Here’s everything you need to know.”

  Everyone leaned forward, craning their necks to see. Long seconds passed as they studied the depiction. Veslund was the first to look up. “What in the fro
zen hell is it?”

  Ilanna chuckled. “It’s the plans for a vault door. The most secure vault in the city.”

  “Watcher’s teeth!” Allon’s eyebrows rose. “And here I thought you were crazy going after the Reckoners’ vaults. Now you’re telling me—?”

  Ilanna met his gaze with confidence. “Damned right I am.” She bared her teeth in a snarl. “We’re breaking into Lord Auslan’s crypt.”

  Errik whistled, and Darreth’s eyes went wide.

  “Now wait a bloody minute!” Veslund held up his hands. “Ye’re not talking about that Lord Auslan, are ye?”

  Ilanna nodded. “The one and only.”

  Joost scratched his head. “Am I missin’ somethin’? What’s so special about ’im?”

  “Sweet Mistress!” Veslund gave a derisive snort. “And ye always tell people ye’re the smart one.”

  Joost scowled.

  “Lord Auslan,” she interjected before the Fox retorted, “is counted among the five wealthiest men in the south of Einan. His wagon teams carry goods all over the world. If someone wants to move anything larger than a crate of tomatoes from one city to another, they’re almost guaranteed to hire Lord Auslan’s teams—or any of the hundreds he owns around Einan.”

  Allon nodded. “Calling him wealthy would be an understatement. He could spend a hundred imperials a day for a thousand years and not make a dent in his fortune.”

  Joost whistled, and even Veslund looked impressed. “So we’re just going to help ourselves to some of his gold? If he’s as rich as ye say, he won’t miss a few score thousand imperials.” He grinned and clapped a hand on Joost’s shoulder. “We’ll be rich!”

  Ilanna held up a hand. “There’s no doubt you’ll walk away from this job the wealthiest men in your House, but we’re not going to touch a single copper bit of Lord Auslan’s money.”

  Allon turned a curious expression on her. Errik leaned forward, and Darreth’s gaze ceased its wandering.