Thief of the Night Guild

by Andy Peloquin

  She forced a smile and opened the door. “Come to welcome me home, Allon?”

  “I wish.” The Hound’s face showed no hint of mirth. “Uncle Jagar…er, Master Hawk sent me to fetch you.”

  Ilanna raised an eyebrow. “You?”

  Allon nodded. “I was on my way here already. But after what he told me…” He swallowed and his eyes slid away.

  Ilanna’s brow furrowed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Master Gold has called a meeting of the Night Guild.” He met her gaze now. Heavy bags, the mark of many sleepless nights, hung under his worry-filled eyes. “It’s bad.”

  * * *

  CONFUSION ECHOED IN the mutters and whispers filling the Menagerie. Ilanna stood near the front of the crowd, just behind Master Hawk. If her House Master’s posture—slumped, head hanging down, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose—gave any indication, things were worse than Allon had let on.

  She glanced around. Allon stood with his fellow Hounds. Errik, still covered in the dust of the road, nodded to her as he slid through the crowd of Serpents. Darreth’s fingers twitched, and even the imperturbable Jarl shifted. He, like she, sensed the aura of dread that hung thick in the high-vaulted room. Time and again, his eyes darted to the tarp-covered object in the heart of the Menagerie.

  Ilanna’s curiosity burned. What the twisted hell is under that thing?

  Master Gold climbed to his feet and turned to the assembled Journeymen. “My brothers, sisters, friends, and fellows of the Night Guild. Welcome.”

  It seemed the Guild Master had aged a decade in the weeks Ilanna had been gone. He wore clothing far simpler and duller than his usual bright ensemble, and his face appeared haggard in the alchemical lamplight. Even the ornamental hawk pinned to his breast had lost its luster. The sight only added to dismay creeping into Ilanna’s mind.

  “I call you here with a heavy heart.” Master Gold clasped his hands behind his back. “As you know, our professions carry certain…dangers. Far too many of our number have met untimely ends at the hands of Duke Phonnis and his Praamian Guard. We all understand the hazards of what we do and we do it nonetheless, for better or worse.”

  “Though many would name us criminals, we have a certain honor, a code that dictates what we do. The laws of the Night Guild keep us in check and maintain the status quo in Praamis. For hundreds of years, it has been thus.”

  He swallowed and shook his head. “The Night Guild has weathered many threats in the past, yet I fear this new threat is one we will not survive if we do not band together. The ones who threaten us are without honor, and there is nothing they will not do to achieve their ultimate ends.”

  At his signal, two Grubbers tugged on the tarp. Hundreds of gasps and curses rose from the assembled Night Guild. Ilanna’s jaw dropped in horror.

  “Behold!” Master Gold swept a hand at the grisly object. “A message from the Bloody Hand.”

  A gruesome assortment of lacerated flesh and shattered bones hung on a wooden cross. Threads of crimson dripped from what had once been the body of a human—man or woman, she couldn’t tell, so mangled was the corpse. Blood stained the long, dark hair sprouting from the crushed skull. Strips of charred skin mingled with deep, jagged gashes.

  Acid surged in Ilanna’s throat. The sound of retching echoed in the Menagerie, accompanied by the reek of vomit.

  “Look well, brethren of the Night Guild.” Master Gold’s voice held an edge of fury. “The men of Voramis came to us with smiles and offers of fraternity, but see how they act when they are denied. Is this what you would wish upon our fair city?”

  Thick, oppressive silence settled over the Night Guild. All eyes remained fixed on the butchered remains hanging in the middle of the room. For long minutes, nothing moved in the Menagerie. Master Gold returned to his seat. He had no need to speak; the Bloody Hand’s message was eloquence enough.

  Then, without a word, the Journeymen of the Night Guild filed from the room.

  “Ilanna.” Sorrow tinged Master Hawk’s voice. “Come.”

  Ilanna fell in step behind her House Master. Dread added to the roiling in her stomach. Every part of her wanted to deny it, but she knew the truth: this was her fault.

  * * *

  ENTAR SAID NOTHING as Master Hawk and Ilanna strode into Master Gold’s office. The Guild Master motioned for her to close the door. Heart thundering, she obeyed and took the seat opposite Master Gold. Her stomach clenched as the two men stared at her.

  Master Hawk spoke first. “It’s Prynn.”

  It felt as if someone had driven a mailed fist into her gut. Ilanna struggled to breath but no air filled her lungs. Her mind reeled, fighting to make sense of Master Hawk’s words.

  After what seemed an eternity, she found her voice. “Are…you sure?”

  Master Hawk nodded. “So was the hand they sent a few weeks back.”

  The words drove a dagger home in Ilanna’s chest. An immense weight settled on her shoulders. Prynn had disappeared almost two years earlier. Had he been in the Bloody Hand’s clutches all this time? She shuddered to think of the horrors inflicted upon him. The misshapen lump of flesh and bone hanging on the cross had ceased being human long before its final breath.

  Memories of Prynn flashed through her mind: the sandy-haired youth with freckled skin and shy smile welcoming her to House Hawk; the confident apprentice with quick fingers teaching her to wield a knife; the young man who’d laughed at her exhilaration running across the rooftops of Praamis; the Journeyman of House Hawk greeting her as an equal.

  Pain filled Master Hawk’s eyes as well. The loss of Werrin, Denber, and now Prynn weighed on him. He cared for his Journeymen. Perhaps too much. It was why he hadn’t selected another apprentice after choosing her, she believed. Ilanna reached out and squeezed his hand. He looked up, surprised, and returned the grip. For a long moment, they sat in silence, sharing each other’s sorrow.

  With a nod, Ilanna released the House Master’s hand and rubbed her face. No tears welled in her eyes, but the heat of rage—and regret—burned in her head.

  Damn the Bloody Hand. She’d fled Voramis the night after killing the thugs. The bastards move fast!

  She turned to Master Gold. “Are you sure it’s them?”

  For an answer, the Guild Master drew a bundle from his desk, unwrapped the bloodstained cloth, and placed what looked like a strip of untanned leather on the table. Ilanna’s sides heaved as she recognized the brand of the Bloody Hand—a hand with too-long fingers tipped with bestial claws—burned into a section of flesh. “By the Watcher!”

  Master Gold quickly covered it. “I thought the body would be message enough.”

  Ilanna swallowed a surge of acid. “It’s my fault this happened.”

  Master Gold raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  Ilanna drew in a breath. “The Bloody Hand tried to rob us—Errik and me—while we were in Voramis. We gave them our purses, but they wanted…more.” She balled her fists. “We killed them.”

  “What?” The Guild Master jerked upright.

  “We killed them. All but one.” She sat back, shoulders drooping. “He called for help before we could deal with him. We had no choice but to flee.”

  Master Gold muttered a curse. Master Hawk’s face grew grim.

  “It gets worse. That man recognized us as Night Guild.”

  Two pairs of eyebrows shot skyward. “Impossible!” Master Gold blurted. “You went in disguise, didn’t you?”

  “Of course!” Ilanna snorted. “But he recognized Errik’s fighting style and our Praamian accents.”

  Master Gold’s stream of curses went on for a full minute. Even Master Hawk’s jaw dropped at the color of the Guild Master’s profanities.

  Ilanna made no excuses. She had gone to Voramis knowing of the danger she’d face—the Bloody Hand as well as the Secret Keepers. She and Errik had done everything they could to avoid trouble. But she wouldn’t apologize for defending herself. Sabat had taught her
what happened to weak women.

  When Master Gold’s invectives trailed off, Master Hawk spoke. “This is worse than we thought.” His fingers toyed with the scar running across his face. “It’s not just a message to the Night Guild—it’s revenge for the deaths of their men. It’s personal now.”

  “But doesn’t this work in our favor?” Ilanna leaned forward. “Once the other Houses see what the Bloody Hand is capable of, they’ll have to realize that their only choice is to turn them down. No way any sane person would want that in Praamis.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Master Gold shook his head. “If I know Bernard, he’ll use this to his advantage. He’ll insist that the only way to prevent something like this from happening again is to give in to their demands.”

  “Surely no one is that foolish!”

  “Fearful men do foolish things, Ilanna,” Master Hawk said in a quiet voice.

  “Indeed.” Master Gold fingered the falcon brooch. “A few of the wiser, older Journeymen will understand which way the wind is blowing and join our side. But I fear we will lose many allies in the days to come. Too many will fall prey to their terror of the Bloody Hand. Master Hound’s camp will grow stronger—perhaps strong enough for him to call for a new Master Gold.”

  Ilanna stood. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Master Gold raised an eyebrow. “Lord Auslan’s job?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  The Guild Master steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Then may the Mistress’ luck go with you, and the Watcher guide your path.”

  With a bow, Ilanna turned and strode from the room.

  * * *

  ILANNA’S HEART SANK as she rounded the corner and caught sight of Allon leaning on her door.

  “Please not now, Allon.”

  The Hound stood. “Come on, Ilanna. I haven’t seen you in almost a month. At least let me come in and—”

  “Allon!” Ilanna cut off his words with a slash of her hand. “I haven’t slept well since leaving Praamis. I’m tired, sore, and hungry. That body on the cross was once a friend of mine. And, to top it all off, I’ve got just three hours before I have to meet Darreth in the warehouse. Not. Now!”

  Allon backed off, his face tightening. “I understand.” His voice held a strain.

  “Thank you.” Ilanna squeezed his hand, resisting the urge to strike him. How dare he pester her now? “Let me rest and recover. Let me mourn my friend. When this is all over, I’ll make time. I promise.” Time to let you know I’m done with you, she left unsaid.

  “Fair enough.” He gave her a halfhearted grin. “I’ll see you at the warehouse tomorrow.”

  “Rest well.” Hurt filled Allon’s eyes, but Ilanna couldn’t bring herself to care. Too many thoughts whirled in her mind to make room for his feelings.

  She pressed the door shut and relief flooded her at the sound of the lock clicking. The problems of the world waited outside, but in here she was safe. She could hide from everything, even if only for a short while.

  She climbed into bed fully clothed and pulled the blankets over her head. The darkness brought a sense of peace. She drew in deep breaths, fighting the lump in her throat. Prynn’s face—a happy, smiling face, not the mangled lump of flesh hanging on a cross—refused to leave her. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to be free of the memory of her friend, and crushed Kodyn’s stuffed hawk to her chest, as if the reminder of her son would somehow banish the gruesome image.

  It didn’t. Exhaustion soon won the battle for her mind and body, and she slipped into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “GENTLEMEN, TODAY IS the day.” Ilanna smiled at the eager faces around the table. “Everything we’ve done over the last weeks has led to this.”

  Veslund’s face scrunched. “Uh, ain’t the Labethian Tournament tomorrow?” He shot a questioning glance at Joost.

  Ilanna rolled her eyes. “It is. But our work starts now.” She turned to Jarl. “All is in readiness?”

  The Hawk shook his head with a frustrated grunt.

  “Will it be ready by tomorrow?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Jarl gave a slow nod.

  Ilanna stifled her irritation. Off to an auspicious start.

  “The whole plan hinges on you, Jarl.”

  “I know.” He shrugged.

  She let it rest. He knew what he had to do; he’d come through. He had to!

  She shifted her attention to the Foxes. “Ves, Joost, I want the two of you stationed outside Lord Auslan’s mansion. The Labethian Tournament runs all day long, so we should have plenty of time to get in and out. But if Lord Auslan decides to return early…” She drew out two hunting horns. “I’m counting on you to give us warning.”

  Joost gave the horn a skeptical glance, but Veslund took his with gusto. He clapped it to his lips and would’ve blown had Jarl not closed a massive hand around his forearm. The Fox, a big man in his own right, stared up at the hulking Hawk and decided his health would be better served by not making noise.

  “Errik, I want you to come in with me.”

  The Serpent nodded, but Allon bristled. “Now wait a moment! If anyone should go in, it’s me.” He counted on his fingers. “First, I’ve spent close to a month studying that map you gave Jarl. If the map is accurate—”

  “It is.” Ilanna glared. “It comes from a very reliable source.”

  Allon inclined his head. “So be it. My point is that I’ve spent hours poring over that map. Has Errik even seen it?”

  The Serpent shrugged.

  “Second,” Allon drove on, “I’m the one who’s going to get you into the mansion.”

  “You mean you—?”

  “Found us a way in. Damned straight! It’s near the walls, but far enough that we won’t be spotted.”

  Elation surged in Ilanna’s chest. One more piece in place.

  “I’m the one who found it, so I should be the one going in with you. Besides, if we have to flee for any reason, who else knows their way around those sewers better than me?”

  Ilanna couldn’t argue that. His flawless memory made him the perfect guide through the labyrinthine tunnels.

  “I’m just as suited to the task as Errik is!” He darted a glance at the Serpent. “And I’m not exhausted from weeks of travel.”

  “And what if we find ourselves facing off against the Duke’s Arbitors? I’ve no doubt of your skill, but in a fight…”

  Allon’s face tightened. “I’m no Serpent, but I can hold my own.”

  Ilanna looked to Errik. The Serpent’s brow furrowed. “I’ve watched him train with Ullard. He’s easily the best among the Hounds.” He gave Allon a nod. “Almost as good as a Serpent.”

  The tension in Allon’s face relaxed and color rose to his cheeks. Errik counted among the best of House Serpent; coming from him, those words were dangerously close to high praise.

  Ilanna persisted. “But good enough to handle the Duke’s Arbitors?” She held up a hand to forestall Allon’s protest. “I’m not doubting your skill, Allon. But you can’t fault me for wanting to keep you from ending up dead.”

  Let him think I’m doing this because I care, not because I’d rather have Errik at my side in case of trouble.

  “But most of the Arbitors will be gone with Lord Auslan. And your plan is to avoid a fight.”

  Ilanna shook her head. “Always be prepared for the worst, Allon.” She turned to Errik. “What do you think?”

  Errik spoke after a moment of thought. “Take him. Your plan is solid. There should be few enough Arbitors that you’ll be able to handle them between you.”

  “Between us?” Allon’s eyes widened a fraction.

  The shock in the Hound’s expression made Ilanna’s lip curl. She’d kept her training with Errik as secret as anything could be in the Night Guild. But it seemed as if Allon dismissed even the possibility that she could match his skill with a sword.

  To hide her irritation, she turned to Darreth. “Ho
w go the experiments?”

  The Scorpion’s head rested on his chest, a quiet snore rising from his mouth.

  “Darreth!”

  “Wha—?” His head snapped up, and he blinked at the people around the table.

  Ilanna chuckled. “The experiments?”

  “Experiments?” Darreth seemed lost, struggling to break free of slumber. “The…experiments. Ah, yes.” He rubbed his face with one hand and produced a few sheets of parchment with the other.

  Ilanna glanced at the notes. The top of the page was covered with Darreth’s neat handwriting, but by the bottom, the precision had degenerated into barely legible scribbles.

  “Maybe you just show me, eh?”

  Darreth yawned in response.

  “But first, Errik, seeing as Allon’s coming with me, you’ll be taking his job.”

  Errik raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re going to the Labethian Tournament.”

  A rare smile broadened Errik’s face.

  Allon’s jaw dropped. For a moment, Ilanna thought he’d protest. The disappointment in his eyes seeped into his expression. The vicennial games were the most anticipated event in Praamis. Only a handful of the Night Guild had ever attended. And now Allon would miss out on his chance to see the spectacle because he’d insisted on going with her. She’d intended the assignment as a way to placate him for taking Errik to Voramis over him.

  She reached into the satchel she’d brought and drew out the clothes Allon had worn into the Coin Counters’ Temple. “You’ll be going as Lord Beritane’s private clerk.” She glanced at the Hound. “Alten Trestleworth, I think you called him?”

  Allon nodded, his face glum.

  Ilanna handed the clothes to Errik. “I need you to keep an eye on Lord Auslan. He should stay all day long, but if he leaves early, you send word to Veslund and Joost. See if Garrill wants the job. If not, Elmar or Alun.”

  “Got it.”

  She met the eyes of Jarl, Veslund, Joost, and Errik. “You all know your jobs. Do them well, and by this time next week, you’ll be the wealthiest Journeymen in your Houses. I’m counting on you.”

  Ilanna watched the four go. No turning back now.