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

by Andy Peloquin

  Allon scowled. “So what do we do?”

  For reply, Ilanna drew the fencing blade from its hidden sheath. “Just in case.” She had no desire to face Duke Phonnis’ hand-picked guards, but she wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

  Allon hesitated before pulling free his own sword. “You want to fight the Arbitors?”

  Ilanna shrugged. “I’d rather not, but if I have to, I’ll be the one to walk away from this.”

  With a sigh, Allon nodded. “So be it.”

  Ilanna tugged on the lever. A muffled thunk sounded within the wall, which slid to one side a moment later. Mounted alchemical lamps flickered to life, illuminating descending stairs. Ilanna cast a nervous glance at Allon, who nodded, then proceeded downward.

  According to Master Lorilain, the steel vault would need to be built on a solid foundation of granite. It would be on the ground floor or even underground. That meant they had to go down four floors.

  With every step, the tension in Ilanna’s muscles increased. She half-expected to trigger some hidden trap or set off an alarm. The lack of security measures didn’t ease her nervousness; if anything, her anxiety grew as they stepped onto the third set of stairs.

  Ilanna held up a hand. Allon paused, raising a questioning eyebrow. Ilanna mouthed the word, “Listen.”

  She crouched and stilled her breathing. Closing her eyes, she attuned her ears for even the slightest hint of sound. Nothing. For a full minute, she waited and listened.

  There! Below, a throat cleared. A few seconds later, someone coughed.

  Her heart sank. Gods, how I hate being right. Armed men awaited them below. How many, she had no idea. To make it worse, they’d see her feet on the stairs before she could see them.

  She turned to Allon with a grimace. He winced and tightened his grip on his sword. Too late to turn back now.

  Ilanna passed her sword to her left hand and drew a throwing dagger from her bracer, pressing it against the inside of her forearm. Taking out one of however many men she’d face below would improve their chances of survival.

  “Ready?” she mouthed.

  Allon shrugged.

  She continued her steady descent, expecting at any moment to hear the shout of alarm. It came a few seconds later.

  “Who goes there?”

  She moved, leaping down the stairs toward the four blue-clad Arbitors waiting there. Her arm went up and forward. Her dagger hurtled through the air and plunged into the throat of one guard, just above his burnished silver breastplate. She shifted the sword to her right hand as the Arbitors stared wide-eyed at their slumping comrade.

  The three remaining Arbitors reacted faster than she expected. One rushed her, his heavy long sword swinging for her knees. Another darted toward Allon, while the third fumbled for something in his coat.

  Ilanna didn’t wait to find out what. Instead of retreating, she leapt to the side and took two quick steps along the wall. The movement carried her past the first Arbitor, and she flicked her blade out. The man hissed as the tip laid open a bloody line along the back of his hand. Whatever he’d been reaching for clattered to the floor.

  She whirled and ducked beneath a high swing from the first Arbitor. The clash of steel rang out as Allon met the third guard on the far side of the staircase.

  Only now did the foolishness of Ilanna’s actions sink in. Two Arbitors faced her, murder in their eyes and naked steel in their hands. She had the wall and the steel door of Lord Auslan’s vault at her back. She was trapped.

  Instinct honed over years spent training with Errik kicked in. Her mind analyzed the Arbitors’ stances, their weapons, and her surroundings in the space of a single heartbeat. She had just one way to get out of this alive.

  She moved even as the first Arbitor raised his sword to strike. His horizontal chop, intended to cut through her shoulder or neck, went high as she ducked. The lightning thrust of her thin fencing blade caught the injured man above the knee, just below the hem of his leather jerkin, severing the tendon. He cried out and sagged.

  She leapt backward to avoid the other Arbitor’s blade. Her back slammed into the wall and she winced as the sword opened a line of fire along her shoulder. His next blow struck sparks off the stone where her head had been a moment earlier.

  Ilanna couldn’t trade blows with the Arbitor. Her slim fencing blade would shatter under the weight of the long sword. She had to catch him off guard, distract him long enough to get in close and use her dagger.

  His next strike came low and fast, a thrust intended to skewer her. Ilanna twisted aside and slapped the blade wide. She flicked her light blade across his face. Blood trickled from a cut in his forehead, dripping into his right eye. Her gaze never left his face. When he squinted at the sting of blood, she executed a perfect fencing lunge.

  The Arbitor knocked the attack wide with contempt and brought his weapon back for a riposte. But Ilanna hadn’t followed through on the lunge. Instead, she’d released her grip on her sword hilt and pulled a dagger. Before the Arbitor could bring his blade around, Ilanna buried the dagger to its hilt in his neck. The man groaned and coughed, spraying blood. He tried to attack, but Ilanna stepped out of range of his weak strike. The gush of crimson from his neck sapped his strength. He collapsed, twitched, and lay still.

  Her gaze went to the second Arbitor. The man had retrieved whatever item had fallen from his hand in her initial attack and was moving toward the wall behind him. The alarm in the Temple of Whispers in Voramis flashed through her mind. Was he trying to alert the guards above to their presence in the mansion?

  She leapt over the dead Arbitor and lashed out. Her slim blade laid open the back of his hand. He shrieked and dropped the item—a glass stone identical to the one set in the wall. Ilanna silenced him with a thrust through the back of his skull.

  Allon’s grunt drew her attention. Both Hound and Arbitor’s swords lay on the ground, and the two men fought with bare fists. The Arbitor’s heavy armor gave him the advantage, and he had Allon pinned to the stone stairs.

  Ilanna drove her sword into the back of the man’s knee. The Arbitor screamed and whirled on her. She stepped back, out of reach of his flailing fists. In that moment of distraction, Allon slipped out from the Arbitor’s grasp and seized his sword. He slammed the pommel into the guard’s temple, and the man sagged.

  Gasping, Allon wiped blood from his nose and mouth. His jaw dropped as his eyes fell on the two dead Arbitors. “Damn!” His gaze went from the corpses to Ilanna and back again. “Damn!” he repeated.

  Ilanna turned to the vault door. After spending hours studying the replica built by Master Lorilain, she felt as if she knew every rivet and joint of the enormous steel construction before her.

  From her pouch she produced the length of rope and wax pencil Darreth had given her. Allon followed her terse instructions with alacrity, as if the fight had driven home the true danger of their job. She measured the position twice just to be certain she got it right. This was no practice run—if she failed now, there was no way out.

  Stowing the measuring rope, she drew out the glass vial of Kharna’s Breath and the shorter of the two pipettes.

  “Careful,” Allon breathed.

  Ilanna shot him a glare.

  “Sorry!” He held up his hands—knuckles raw and covered in his and the Arbitor’s blood. “I’m nervous, is all.”

  “Keep your nerves to yourself,” Ilanna growled. “I’ve more than my fair share already.”

  With a wry grin, Allon stepped back. “I’ll give you space.”

  Ilanna drew in a deep breath and, with trembling hands, pulled the cork from the glass bottle. She dipped the pipette into the clear liquid, placed her finger on the other end, and drew it out. Holding her breath, she set the tip of the tube to the door and released the suction.

  She cursed herself for a fool as drops of acid slithered down the surface of the vault door. Only after a couple of seconds did it begin to bubble, eating away at the metal. Noxious steam filled the stair
case with a gut-twisting odor. Ilanna coughed and stepped away from the door.

  When the smoke finally cleared and the metal ceased its bubbling, Ilanna moved closer. Her stomach knotted. The acid had pitted the steel but failed to melt through the thick plate.

  An idea struck her. Reaching into her pouch, she drew out Darreth’s wax pencil. She pressed the tip against the door and cracked it off. Using her knife, she hollowed out a small bowl in the wax.

  That should hold the acid in place long enough to melt through the steel.

  Gritting her teeth, she dipped the pipette into the bottle and drew out another portion of Kharna’s Breath. The level of the clear liquid had dropped by a quarter.

  I’ve got to get this right.

  She let out a slow breath and slowly removed her finger from the tip of the tube. A single drop of acid slid down the door, but the rest remained in the hollow of the wax. After a moment, the metal began to sizzle and bubble. She didn’t back away from the stinking smoke, but kept her eyes fixed on the door.

  Her heart lurched as the smoke faded, elation surging in her chest. Yes! Kharna’s Breath had burned a hole large enough for her to insert the longer pipette. After a moment of feeling around, she located the locking bar.

  She inserted the second glass tube into the bottle of acid. When she drew it out, barely more than one-third of the liquid remained. Damn it!

  She’d still have enough to melt her way through some of the welded steel plates of the vault floor. Jarl and his Grubbers waited for her on the other side of the layer of granite. She’d have to find a way to get through that stone, but first she had to deal with the door.

  Her hand shook as she inserted the pipette into the hole and felt for the locking bar. She sucked in a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself.

  An alarm bell shattered the silence of the stairs.

  Chapter Fifty

  Startled, Ilanna flinched and her finger slipped from the end of the tube, spilling the precious acid inside the door. Metal sizzled and noxious steam poured out of the hole.

  She cast a wild glance over her shoulder. The only surviving Arbitor slumped against the wall, a stone in his hand pressed against an identical one set in the wall. Allon spun and kicked at the blue-clad guard. The man’s head snapped back, striking stone, and he sagged. The Hound’s dagger silenced him forever.

  But the alarm had been raised.

  Keeper’s teeth!

  Allon spun on her, wide-eyed. “What do we do?”

  Ilanna bared her teeth. “What can we do? We’ve got to keep going.”

  “But the Arbitors—”

  “Will have a bloody hard time getting through that blackwood door. We can be in the vault long before they breach it.”

  “That doesn’t help us get out of here alive! Without Derelana’s Lance, we’ll be trapped.”

  Ilanna clenched her jaw. “Then run. I’m not leaving. I’ve come too far, lost too much to walk away empty-handed.”

  “But how are you going to get through?”

  “I’ll figure something out!” Her voice rose to a shout. “I always have. But I don’t need you here if you’re just going to tell me it can’t be done.”

  Allon eyed her, fear and hesitation mingled in his expression. She could see his mind working. If he remained, he’d be risking the wrath of the Arbitors. But if he fled, she’d think him a coward.

  “You’ve done your part, Allon. I can do this myself.”

  His jaw tightened in a stubborn frown. “No, you can’t.” He crossed his arms. “You’ll need me if you’re going to get out of this alive. Between us, we’ll come up with a way out. Now quit wasting time arguing and get that damned door open.”

  Ilanna returned her attention to the pipette. She dipped the slim tube into the glass bottle and drew out a few drops. She’d decided on a new approach for the locking bar: apply a small amount at a time, just enough to melt into the metal without dripping. She’d wasted too much of the precious acid already. She had none to spare.

  Allon hovered behind her, nervous tension rolling off him in waves.

  “Allon, go watch the door. I want a few minutes’ warning before the Arbitors break through.”

  With a nod, the Hound dashed up the stairs.

  Taking a deep breath to steady her hands, Ilanna inserted the pipette into the hole in the door. She took her time, feeling around until she was certain the tip rested against the locking bar. She hesitated only a moment before removing her finger from the tube.

  The hole belched smoke and the sound of bubbling metal a moment later. Ilanna waited for the steam to clear before reaching for her quickfire globes. She needed to get a look inside the hole to see if the acid was working. After a moment of fumbling in her pouch, she remembered what had happened to the glass balls. She stuffed the pang of sorrow deep in the back of her mind. She had to focus on the job; she could think about Lem later.

  She bent and squinted into the hole, desperately wishing for a beamer or any sort of lamp. Using the tip of the pipette, she felt along the length of the locking bar. Elation coursed through her as she felt pitting along the smooth metal.

  It’s working!

  She repeated the process, applying only a few drops at a time. The alarm blaring through the mansion grated on her nerves, and the desire to hurry warred with the need for precision. At any moment, Allon would come barreling down the stairs and they’d be out of time. She hated the idea of abandoning the job, but she had no hope of defeating an army of Arbitors with only Allon. But she wouldn’t walk away just yet, not without at least seeing the prize she’d worked so hard to claim.

  The level of liquid dropped with every application. When she dipped the pipette one last time, only a single bead of acid remained in the bottle. Her heart sank. Even if she got through the door, she wouldn’t have enough to melt through the floor. She’d failed.

  A knot formed in her gut as she applied the last of Kharna’s Breath to the locking bar. When the sizzling quieted, she reached for the wheel.

  The moment of truth. Everything she’d done rested on this moment. She’d invested months of hard work and a fortune in gold, spent far too many sleepless nights wishing she could hold Kodyn in her arms. She’d killed for this moment, and friends had died in the pursuit of success. It had all been for nothing. Without Derelana’s Lance to melt through the granite foundation, she’d be trapped in the vault. She’d have to flee the Arbitors, empty-handed. Her plans to buy her freedom from the Guild disappeared in that instant. A weight settled on her shoulders.

  She fueled the force of her anger into her arms and wrenched the wheel. It resisted her efforts to spin it for only a moment. Something snapped within the door and the handle whirled smoothly, without a sound.

  The door seemed to open of its own accord. She stepped back as it swung outward. Emotions roiled like a tempest within her breast; triumph at her success mingled with sorrow over the loss of her friends and anger at coming so close only to fail.

  Alchemical lanterns flooded the room with light, illuminating bare steel walls and a marble pedestal, upon which sat the golden sarcophagus. A thousand gemstones of every hue and shape twinkled in the lamplight.

  Ilanna’s breath caught in her throat. She’d come so close. Success lay within her grasp, yet it proved a double-edged blade. She could almost reach out and touch the fortune she’d sacrificed everything to obtain, but without Derelana’s Lance, it might as well be a cup of water for a drowning man. She ran her hand along the smooth glass case surrounding—

  Wait, what? She rapped on the glass. This wasn’t in the Duke’s plans.

  The plans had shown everything: the door, the steel room, even the marble pedestal upon which the sarcophagus rested. But they’d never spoken of a glass case.

  If the plans didn’t include a case, it means this is a new addition. The glass was as thick as her thumb—far too thick for her diamond-tipped cutter—and without a single seam or opening. It looks like it’s intended
to be air and water-tight. But why would—

  “Ilanna!” Allon’s voice echoed in the staircase. The Hound appeared a moment later, rushing down the stairs. Panic tinged his expression. “They’re almost through, Ilanna. We need to go now if we’re…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. “Sweet Mistress!” he breathed. “It’s beautiful. The sort of thing you see once in a lifetime.”

  Ilanna ignored him. Something nagged at the back of her mind. Why the glass case?

  Allon recovered from his awe after a moment. “Come on, Ilanna. If we leave now, we can get out through the window and across the roof before—”

  She whirled on him. “Shut up and let me think!”

  Allon flinched and snapped his mouth shut.

  Ilanna paced the length of the sarcophagus, eyes fixed on the glass case. The original plans for the vault had called for the steel plates to be welded together. According to Master Lorilain, the pattern welding was the best way…

  “To keep water and air out!” she shouted.

  Her gaze darted around the room. Hope surged in her chest as she caught a glimpse of rust on the steel walls.

  Of course! Lord Auslan had paid a fortune to embalm his wife, but even the slightest bit of moisture would ruin the preserved body. The presence of rust meant some had leaked through the steel plates. Lord Auslan had added the glass case to protect the body because the room itself would never be truly watertight.

  She crouched and studied a spot of rust on the floor. The metal in one section had crumbled, the plates separating. A bead of moisture sat in the hole between the plates.

  Willem’s explanation of the midnight mist sprang to her mind. He’d said it came from an underground creek. Somehow, it had seeped up through the ground. Lord Auslan had built his mansion beside the river. If a body of water ran underneath the vault room, it would explain the moisture.

  “Ilanna, we need to go!”

  “Wait.” Ilanna spun on the Hound. “Look at this.”

  “Rust?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the big—” His other eyebrow shot up. “Wait, isn’t this room supposed to be watertight?”