by C. Greenwood
“Dradac,” he said between mouthfuls of bread. “You said you had meat?”
I threw a strip of dried venison his way.
“I’m Rideon,” I said, although he hadn’t asked. Then I sat down a little distance off to eat.
We talked over the meal, and gradually our mistrust for one another melted away. I learned that Dradac was on his way to Selbius, the same as me, and we agreed to travel together. I confided in him that I had dangerous business in the city, but that if I survived it, I had a scheme for the future. It wasn’t like me to be so open. But something about the friendly stranger made me let down my guard. I told him of my ambition to form a gang of thieves right here in Dimmingwood.
I didn’t admit that I already had the beginnings of a treasure hoard stashed away in a certain cave in the heart of the forest. Neither did I confess I carried a valuable necklace sewn into my cloak. I was coming to like the fellow, but I wasn’t yet ready to throw all caution to the wind. When I said I admired his boldness and could use one with his skills in my band of thieves, Dradac readily agreed to toss aside his plans and join me. But first we agreed to continue on to Selbius, where I had unfinished business. Only once that was out of the way could I form further plans.
The sun had set by the time we finished dinner. Night always came early in the forest, where the thick trees cast deep shadows. We decided to go no farther today but make camp where we were. We found a good spot a short distance from the road and spread out our blankets under the leafy canopy.
Lying on my back and staring up at the patches of starry sky visible between the branches above, I felt better than I had in a long time. I knew there was a very real chance I wouldn’t survive what lay ahead of me in the city. In my quest to destroy the praetor of Camdon, many things could go wrong. Then there was the thieves’ guild. Not for nothing had I fled town only weeks ago. I still carried the Thief’s Blade and the necklace stolen from the thief king’s hoard. There was no telling whether the leader of the guild had discovered my treachery yet and what he would do about it if we crossed paths again.
Even so, for the first time since Ferran’s death, I began to feel in control again. I had a vision for my future. All I had to do was stay alive long enough to accomplish it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The journey to Selbius passed easily in the company of my new companion. I was quickly growing used to making my way between forest and town. At this point, I felt I was on familiar ground as Dradac and I crossed the long bridge spanning the lake and approached the towering gates of the capital city.
Breathing in the mingled scents of fish and lakeweed as I stood among the crowd waiting to enter the town, I allowed myself to think for the first time of what I would do immediately on arriving. The Thief’s Blade was still concealed among my things. I decided it would be best for the time being not to flaunt my rebellion against the guild leader by carrying his sword around the streets. I had acquired a leather scabbard for the weapon through trading with the woods village outside the camp of Ada’s family. But now wasn’t the time to make use of it.
The masses of people both inside and outside the city gates were greater than usual, but we had no difficulty getting in. It wasn’t until we passed the busy market area that I noted the many strange costumes and faint accents of the people bustling past on the streets. There were folk from Cros, recognizable by their drably colored clothing, the forked beards of the men, and the floppy bonnets worn by the women. I caught sight of a woman from Kersis, dressed in rough mountain garb, an axe carried across her back. I also recognized visitors from my own home province. Camdon folk were easy to spot. They wore the stiff, high-necked collars and thigh-high boots fashionable in our province. Often they had tiny bells sewn onto their boots or the cuffs of their breeches, making tinkling sounds when they moved.
This influx of strangers from other provinces could be due to only one thing—the preparations for the old praetor’s funeral and the coming arrival of the rulers from other provinces. It would be the biggest event Selbius had seen in years, and there were many eager to capitalize on the business opportunities that came with such a gathering. That was why so many visitors and goods from out of town were being carted into the city. Selbius hummed with excitement and activity.
This worked to my advantage. In such a flood of strangers, it would be easier than ever to lose myself in the crowds and avoid the notice of those whose attention I had cause to fear. I led Dradac, who had never been here before, down the crooked backstreets and shaded alleys that had become so familiar to me in recent months. I was uneasy, reentering the common district and the ragged quarter. It was a little too close to my old territory for comfort. The Ravenous Wolf tavern was only a few blocks over from here. But I didn’t head that way. Instead, I ducked into one of the many filthy courtyards giving access to a collection of shabby lodging houses.
This yard looked much like the others on the street. Dirty-faced children played noisily on the cobbles. Tattered laundry aired on lines strung across our way so that we had to duck between them. The windows of the houses’ upper stories stood open. The sounds of drunken singing, the angry shouts of women, and the wailing of infants drifted out. Surrounded by tall buildings, the square yard was cast in long shadows, although it was only midday. There were foul smells and an air of decay about the place.
I saw Dradac wrinkle his nose. “What are we doing here?” he asked as we let ourselves in an open doorway and entered the shaded interior of the nearest common house.
“Visiting a friend I can trust,” I said, navigating through the crowded entryway, where a cluster of small children were entertaining themselves by rolling colored glass balls across the dirty floor. I had a brief memory of Ferran playing the same game, probably with some of the same playmates. Quickly I shoved the painful thought from my mind. I led Dradac down a corridor and up a shared stairwell.
My knock on the door of one of the rooms was answered by a wide-eyed little girl. When I asked for her older brother, she only stared up at me in silence. Luckily, he quickly appeared in the doorway behind her.
Javen looked startled to see me. “Rideon, what are you doing here?” he asked.
I couldn’t blame him for being surprised. When Ada and I had left the city weeks ago, I had disappeared without a word of explanation to any of my friends within the guild. We had been in a hurry, and I had been too numbed by grief over Ferran’s death to think of such things.
Now I felt a tug of guilt as my friend clapped me joyfully on the back and offered expressions of relief at seeing me alive and well. The healer’s son was one of the first friends I had made among the thieves, and I ought to have said something to him before running away with Ada.
“Everyone in the guild wondered where you had gone off to,” Javen told me.
He broke off suddenly and looked at Dradac suspiciously.
“It’s all right,” I said of the big young man hovering behind me. “This is Dradac. I trust him.”
Reassured, Javen continued. “I have to warn you the thief king’s suspicions have been stirred by the way you vanished. He thinks you’ve robbed him of his missing black blade and more besides.”
I was about to answer when I became aware of a rough-faced older woman hovering in the room behind him. She held a toddler on one hip and eyed us all disapprovingly, me in particular. I remembered that Javen’s widowed mother and younger siblings likely didn’t know much about the business of the guild. Whatever his mother did know about Javen’s involvement with the dangerous group of thieves, she probably frowned on.
I quietly told Javen I would be glad to explain everything, but first I needed him to round up Kinsley and a few more of our most loyal friends. I needed to meet with them someplace private.
He suggested a back room at the Ravenous Wolf, but I rejected that idea, knowing I would meet more guild members than I wanted there, not all of them friendly toward me. For my plan, we had to be cautious in who we involved.
“The original thieves’ den should do then,” he suggested. “The city guard doesn’t watch it anymore, now that they’ve run the guild off from the place. Some homeless beggars hang about the abandoned building for shelter, so no one will take any notice of a few extra strangers.”
I agreed and we decided to meet there in an hour. Javen rushed off to collect the others, and I took Dradac to the designated location, where we would await their arrival.
It was a strange feeling being in the old thieves’ den again. The abandoned hall looked much as it had the last time I was here, except more dilapidated than ever. There were a couple of ragged people sleeping in one of the empty outer rooms, but otherwise the place was empty. I took Dradac to the great open room where my first encounter with the thief king had occurred.
There was some small fire damage to the room, from the time Ada had brought a burning chandelier down on the heads of a gathering, making possible my escape. I had been a prisoner of the thieves then and not yet a guild member. I had nearly lost my life on that occasion—or at least my limbs. Just before the distraction, the thief king had been preparing to chop off my arms with his famous black blade. The walls of this room had once been decorated with such grotesque trophies, the arms and legs of guild enemies nailed up like bloody decorations. Those were gone now. The city guard must have taken them away for disposal. They had raided this house of thieves after an anonymous tip, which the guild never figured out had come from Ada. The thieves had found a new meeting place since, the ancient temple in old town. But this lonely spot would do for my purpose today.
Thinking of the past reminded me I had an impression to make on the small gathering Javen would bring here. Everyone present would be the friends I trusted most. Even so, what I was about to propose was dangerous, and those people were thieves first and foremost. They had an every-man-for-himself mentality. If I wanted their loyalty, I would have to inspire faith and convince them I was a good risk.
On sudden inspiration, I lowered the great chandelier from the ceiling. The thieves had repaired it after the time Ada cut it down and had replaced its rope with thick chain that wouldn’t be easily severed again. Using a flint stone from my traveling pack, I lit the hundreds of candles. When I raised the great cage of metal up to the ceiling again, it was ablaze with light, casting dancing shadows against the cracked plaster and timber walls of the room.
The throne of the thief king had been removed, but I dragged a battered old chair up from the cellar and positioned it where the guild leader’s throne-like chair used to stand. If I could’ve acquired some severed limbs in a hurry, I would’ve decorated the walls with them again. But since that was impossible, I found the bloodstained chopping block where so many had lost their heads or other pieces of themselves. I dragged it close to the chair in an attempt to make the space look as it once had. Now was the time to unwrap the Thief’s Blade and display it on the old chopping block.
Dradac watched all these preparations, looking mystified. I didn’t explain myself. Even I wasn’t entirely sure what I was trying to accomplish by all this. I was acting on some instinct that by preparing the stage, I could set the right tone for the meeting. When I finally sat in the chair replacing the thief king’s throne, there was nothing unconscious in my echoing his casual posture. I needed the people who were coming here to see me as confident, unafraid of the wrath of their leader.
They arrived all at once, led by Javen. Everyone I had asked for was here: Kinsley, Illsman, Nib, and a handful of others I believed would be open to my scheme. They stopped short on seeing the familiar room ablaze with firelight, just as it had been in the old days.
“Welcome friends and thieves.” I greeted my guests like a king holding court.
“Rideon, you’ve returned,” exclaimed Kinsley in obvious surprise. “Javen wouldn’t tell us who had called us together or why.”
His gaze flickered around the room, and I saw the speculation in his eyes.
“It’s a strange place you’ve chosen for a meeting,” one of the other thieves observed. “The city guard knows of this den.”
I made a dismissive gesture. “I have no fear of them.”
“Then perhaps you should fear the thief king,” Kinsley answered. “Rumor says you’ve turned against him and stolen from his treasure hoard. You’ll have a lot of explaining to do now you’ve come back.”
“I’m not coming back,” I corrected. “Not into the old guild anyway. I’ve formed my own plans, and they don’t involve licking the boots of a weak and cowardly leader whose best days are behind him.”
I didn’t entirely mean that insult. But for what I had planned, I was prepared to set aside my admiration for the cunning of the bold thief captain. I couldn’t rival him unless I turned his men against him.
Kinsley gave a low whistle. “That’s big talk for a thief who dodges the guild and hides in the shadows.”
I shrugged. “I’m not afraid of the thief king. It’s the guild that gives him strength. That’s why his followers deserve a more equal share of the riches they bring in. If I were leader of a band of thieves, I wouldn’t hoard my treasure but would share it freely with all.”
The silence that followed my declaration made me wonder if I’d revealed my intention too soon. But there was no going back now.
Kinsley was the first to speak. “Surely you’re not thinking of challenging the thief king and splitting away part of the guild? That’s madness.”
“Is it?” I asked. “I’ve challenged him once before and escaped his wrath.”
I picked up the black sword from the chopping block, drawing their attention to it for the first time. I laid the blade across my knees. Every eye in the room followed the motion.
“The lost Thief’s Blade,” someone exclaimed. “So you are the one who stole it.”
“Why would you take the black sword?” Javen asked, shaking his head. “It’s like the thief’s king’s scepter of power. He’ll kill you for sure.”
“Let him try,” I said calmly. “I’ve died before, and I’m not afraid to do it again.”
My friends broke into muttered arguments among themselves. I could see they were nervous at the thought of rebellion against their ruthless leader. Perhaps they even thought I was a little insane. But my promise at a greater share of the treasure hit its mark. More than that, I could see a superstitious awe in their faces when they looked from the sword to me. No doubt they had heard the rumors about my death and rebirth. Kinsley and Javen would have told them while I was away of how I had been hanged by the praetor but magically returned from the dead. Now by my apparent fearlessness in lifting the sword of their captain, I confirmed the idea that I couldn’t be defeated.
After conferring briefly with the others, Kinsley spoke up. “I think we’re ready to hear more of your plan.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Our meeting went on into the evening. I laid out my ideas for creating a band of forest thieves, working out of the shadows of Dimmingwood. We needed only a small group of followers, beginning with those of us here now. But I didn’t propose running off into the woods just yet. There was a whole heap of treasure beneath the thieves’ temple in old town, and we had earned those riches. We had a right to our portion. Knowing the thief king would never let us take our share, I formed a scheme. Little by little, we would begin siphoning away goods, secretly stealing the smallest and most easily concealed items from right under the guild leader’s nose. This would form the beginnings of our own treasure hoard to be hauled off to Dimmingwood when the time was right.
My friends were uneasy. I knew each of them were as aware as I of the penalty for betraying the guild and its leader. But they were also greedy. More than that, to these ragged young men raised on the city streets, the idea of trading a life as pickpockets to become bold highway robbers held an exciting appeal. I had chosen my first followers well. Every one of them agreed to participate in my plan.
It was understood that I could hardly join them. Hav
ing run away without explanation some weeks ago, suspicion had fallen on me as the likely traitor who had taken the Thief’s Blade. I would have to lie low while the others carried out my orders. That suited me, as I explained I had another private matter to deal with in the coming days. However, I persuaded Kinsley to vouch for Dradac to the thief king and get him added as a new member to the guild. He would help the others and report back to me on how our scheme fared.
It was growing dark by the time we had settled our arrangements. We extinguished the candles, removed all signs of our recent gathering and, one by one, trickled out into the streets. I felt like I had a target on my back as I walked through the common district wearing the Thief’s Blade in the new leather scabbard at my hip. But it was important my followers see I wasn’t afraid to carry it. They were taking all the risks during the early stages of our plan. I couldn’t show any fear of the guild or its leader, or I would lose them. That was one valuable lesson I had learned from the thief king. If ever I showed complaisance or weakness, my companions would turn on me as quickly as they had him.
Because Dradac and I had only just arrived in Selbius and had no place to stay yet, we were invited to spend the night at Javen’s home. Knowing the arrangement would draw curiosity from Javen’s family, I resolved to make better arrangements as soon as possible. But for tonight, I was satisfied. I had set the first part of my scheme to overthrow the thief king into action.
* * *
The following morning, I turned down Javen’s offer to breakfast with his family. Although his mother spoke little, seeing the suspicious frowns she sent my way, I decided I would prefer to get out on my own for a while. I wanted to walk the city and find out what preparations were being made for the praetor’s funeral ceremony. If I kept my ears open, I might pick up some talk in the city market about the coming arrival of our exalted visitors—the praetors and other nobles from our neighboring provinces.