Thief of the Night Guild

by Andy Peloquin

  The horrible moaning of steel echoed through the staircase. A storm of steel shards whirled out the open door with concussive force, piercing stone like a blade into flesh. Ilanna steadied herself against the wall as the ground itself seemed to rumble and shake. A cloud of noxious smoke boiled from the vault.

  Ilanna didn’t wait for it to clear. She rushed from behind the protection of the thick vault door and stopped, mouth agape.

  The floor had buckled and twisted, the steel plates ripped up by the force of the explosion. Pieces of metal were embedded in the walls, the inside of the vault door, and the stone stairs outside. Allon winced as he stumbled into the vault, tugging at a sliver of steel that had pierced his shoulder.

  Glass littered the floor. Bits of metal protruded from the jewel-encrusted sarcophagus. The concussion had ripped free a handful of gemstones, which Allon quickly collected.

  Ilanna stepped closer to the twisted section of floor. The sound of clattering rocks echoed from the hole that disappeared into the darkness below. A heartbeat later, light pierced the swirling clouds of dust and a dirty, sweaty face appeared.

  “’Lanna?”

  Triumphant laughter bubbled from her chest. “Jarl, you beautiful man!”

  Her elation died as shouts of alarm rang out, punctuated by the clatter of hobnailed military boots.

  The Arbitors had broken through the door. She’d run out of time.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “JARL, GET SOMEONE up here now! We’re out of time.”

  Jarl disappeared, and the head and shoulders of a Grubber popped through the hole in the floor. Two more followed. A fourth brought up a length of rope, which he and his companions ran around and beneath the sarcophagus. Every sinew straining, they heaved the golden head free of the pedestal and shoved it toward the hole in the steel floor.

  “Look out below!” one Grubber called out and released his grip on the ropes.

  The enormous sarcophagus plunged through the hole to crash to the ground. Gold twinkled on the edges of the buckled steel plates, and more than a few gemstones were torn free. Ilanna scooped them up as the Grubbers slithered back down the hole.

  She turned to Allon, who stood on the staircase. “Allon, time to go.”

  The Hound rushed into the vault. “You first. I’ll follow.”

  Ilanna didn’t argue. She lowered her legs into the hole and dropped to the floor of the sewer tunnel below. Jarl gave her a nod and continued shouting orders.

  Ilanna had to give the big Hawk credit. He’d trained his crew well. Two Grubbers hauled a hand cart toward them, while another eight worked to insert ropes under and around the sarcophagus. The fall had damaged the golden casket. It lay in halves, both base and lid twisted and scuffed. A pair of filthy apprentices in ragged, grey-trimmed robes shone beamer lamps around the tunnel in search of gemstones that had broken free. They stepped over the mummified body of Lady Auslan as if she was little more than the crumbled granite and mounds of dirt lying around the tunnel.

  Allon dropped into the tunnel a moment later. Ilanna dragged him out of the way of the bustling Grubbers.

  “How much time do we have?”

  Allon shook his head. “A minute. Maybe two. They weren’t far behind me.”

  Ilanna nodded. She’d prepared for this eventuality. She raised her voice. “Jarl!”

  The huge Hawk turned with a questioning glance.

  “Arbitors a minute away.”

  He pointed to the hole, and she nodded. Wincing, he turned his attention to the Grubbers. His shouted orders grew louder and rang with a note of urgency.

  A pair of Grubbers rushed past and set to work shoveling the crumbled rock into a pile directly beneath the hole. It would do little more than twist ankles, but Ilanna welcomed anything that slowed the Arbitors down.

  “Heave!”

  Eight Grubbers strained to lift the golden sarcophagus halves onto the handcart, while two more held the cart steady. The dust-covered men passed ropes over and under the cart to secure the casket in place. At Jarl’s terse command, the Grubbers raced off down the tunnel, dragging the cart behind them. Jarl put his fingers to his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. The apprentices ceased their search for gemstones and rushed after the cart. The two Grubbers who remained reached for sledgehammers.

  The big Hawk motioned for them to follow. “Time to go.”

  He took off down the tunnel, Ilanna and Allon a step behind. The ring of metal hammers on wood rang out behind them. The earth growled and rumbled, shaking underfoot. A cloud of dust sprayed toward them as the tunnels collapsed. A moment later, two grinning, dirt-covered Grubbers sprinted past.

  Ilanna risked a backward glance. A pinprick of light leaked from the hole in the vault, but a mountain of dirt, stone, and mud had swallowed the section of tunnel Jarl and his Grubbers had broadened. Though the collapse hadn’t fully blocked the way, it would take the Arbitors time to get through. If her luck held, it would be enough.

  The tunnel ended at a cliff, with a gap five paces across. Jarl had replaced the plank bridge with a proper construction of wood, steel, and cables. The Grubbers hauled the handcart over the arch and set about unloading the golden contents onto a hoist Jarl had built on the opposite side of the chasm.

  Ilanna glanced down as she crossed the bridge. Far below—at least five man-heights—the river rushed with a fury that reverberated from the stone walls of the tunnel. Jarl’s crew had anchored a floating platform to the cliff face. Four Grubbers stood on the wooden barge, working the wheel that lowered the hoist.

  “Bloody hell!” Allon breathed.

  Ilanna’s chest swelled with pride. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  From his place on the bridge, Jarl shouted orders to the Grubbers working the wheel. Two grey-clad Journeymen hung off the sides of the lowering hoist platform, using wooden poles to push off the cliff face whenever the weight of the sarcophagus swung them too close.

  When the hoist reached the floating platform, the six Grubbers worked to wrestle the heavy golden casket into place on the boat. Gorin, Jarl’s fellow Pathfinder, commanded the crew down below while Jarl rushed across the bridge toward the remaining Grubbers.

  “To your stations, lads.”

  The Grubbers took off down the tunnel leading away from the river.

  At that moment, the first shouts of the Arbitors echoed through the passageways behind them.

  Ilanna turned to Allon. “Go. Make your way home.”

  The Hound glanced at the river. “You still need me.”

  Ilanna shook her head. “Jarl and I’ve prepared for this.”

  Allon opened his mouth to protest, but Ilanna held up a hand. “Trust me, Allon.”

  Hesitation warred on his face, but he nodded. “So be it.” He gave her a halfhearted grin. “But don’t you go dying on me, eh?”

  Ilanna forced herself to smile. “Wouldn’t think of it.” Dying was the last thing on her mind. She had too much to live for now.

  With a final worried glance backward, Allon took off down the tunnel.

  Jarl gripped her arm. “You sure about this?”

  Ilanna groaned. “Not you, too!” Why were men always so protective?

  Jarl shrugged. “It’s dangerous.”

  “Ask the two dead Arbitors above what I think about that.” She gave his massive shoulder a push. “Go. You’ve the most important job here. Far more dangerous than running away.”

  Jarl, eloquent as ever, grunted. “Be safe.” He seized the hoist rope and leapt off the precipice.

  Ilanna glanced over the edge. The huge Hawk dropped onto the wooden platform, bounded into the boat, and gave a piercing whistle. As two Grubbers cast off the lines, the small craft shuddered into motion. Though the current ran downstream toward the Stannar River, Jarl’s boat began to work its way steadily upstream, towed by a sturdy steel cable.

  When the boat had finally cleared the wooden platform, Ilanna reached for the axe a Grubber had left leaning against the hoist
beam. A steel cable ran from the hoist to the wall, where it was anchored to a wooden beam and secured by a rope. Ilanna brought the axe down hard on the rope, severing it. The hoist toppled off the edge of the cliff. A series of crashes and splashes echoed from below. Ilanna peered over the edge. Jarl’s design had worked to perfection. The falling hoist beams had severed the anchors holding the wooden platform to the cliff face. The debris disappeared downstream within minutes.

  Ilanna’s gaze followed the curves of the river. Jarl had spent weeks designing and building what amounted to an enormous laundry line system attached to a massive waterwheel. The force of the rushing water operated the system of pulleys, dragging the boat upstream. Grubbers were stationed along the river route to hitch the boat to the next set of ropes. The boat would be towed through miles of underground tunnels and waterways until it ended at the hidden landing where Jarl would unload the precious cargo to be transported to the Night Guild tunnels.

  The system had one insurmountable flaw: the boat would move very slowly. The waterwheel would only turn as fast as the river pushed it. The farther from the wheel, the more power lost. It would take the boat hours to reach its final destination. The subterranean network of creeks and rivers was accessible from multiple places around the city. If the Arbitors spotted the boat, they’d have more than enough time to intercept it.

  Ilanna stood at the bridge, in full view of the tunnel leading from Lord Auslan’s vault. She had to draw the Arbitors’ attention. As long as they were occupied chasing her, they wouldn’t think to look at the river below.

  As she waited, she ran over the escape route Jarl had laid out for her. They’d spent hours the previous day running over the plan, but it never hurt to rehearse it all beforehand. A combination of excitement and anticipation twisted in her stomach. Against all odds, she’d achieved more than anyone—even she—had believed possible. They had come to the final stretch in a long, grueling journey. All that remained was to outrun a dozen pissed off, sword-wielding Arbitors.

  She gave a sarcastic snort. Should be a breeze.

  The first silver breastplate appeared from the darkened tunnel a few moments later. Dust and dirt turned the Arbitor’s blue tunic and black trousers a dull brown, staining his hands and face. But the steel sword in his hand looked no less threatening for his disheveled state.

  His eyes widened at the sight of Ilanna. He shouted behind him. “I’ve got her!”

  “And it’s a good thing you have!” Ilanna called across the bridge. “Gods alone know what the Duke’ll do to you if you fail to bring in the audacious thief who breaks into the most secure place in the city. Oh wait, did I say if you fail?” She gave him a nasty smile. “I meant to say when.”

  Her plan to enrage them worked. The Arbitor’s boots pounded on the bridge. “You won’t escape us, bitch!” Four more guardsmen followed, all eyes locked on her. In their single-minded fury, they’d never think to question where in the bloody hell the sarcophagus had disappeared to.

  “We’ll see about that.” Blowing him a kiss, she turned and ran down the tunnel.

  Lanterns hung from the tunnel walls, painting her outline clearly to her pursuers. She ran at a steady pace—fast enough to stay out of reach of the Arbitors, but not so fast she lost them. She needed them to stay focused on her long enough for Jarl and the boat to get away unnoticed. It would be a simple matter to lose them in the twisting, turning sewer system.

  The clanking of armor and the pounding of hobnailed boots echoed through the stone passages. The enraged shouts grew less frequent as the weight of the Arbitors’ gear—long swords and sheaths, silver-plated steel breastplates, and heavy steel-toed military boots—took a toll on them. Before long, the curses gave way to wheezing and heavy breathing.

  The Arbitors were the best-trained private guards in Praamis. They spent hours each day engaged in military drills. Indeed, they could march in step, form a shield wall, or advance in a line as tight as any of the Legion of Heroes. But their training hadn’t prepared them for prolonged sprinting through a sewer tunnel in pursuit of a thief girl who’d spent her life running, leaping, and climbing.

  Ilanna glanced over her shoulder. More Arbitors—a full dozen now—pounded through the tunnels toward her. No doubt more would soon follow. She had to keep them occupied for a while longer to give Jarl a chance to flee.

  She slowed at the next intersection, her eyes searching for Jarl’s sign. A smile stretched her lips at the sight of the crude image of hawk scratched into the stone wall down one passageway. Beneath it sat a pair of quickfire globes and a compact beamer lamp. She pocketed the quickfire globes and depressed the button to switch on the beamer; she’d need light for the next stretch.

  “Oi, I’ve got a question for you lot,” she called down the tunnel. “What’s blue-and-silver and can’t find their own arses with a road map and a search party?”

  A string of curses answered her taunt. When the Arbitors appeared around the corner, she winked and made a rude gesture before dashing down the tunnel.

  The light of the beamer bobbed in time with her steps. The thrill of the chase set her heart thundering and adrenaline rushing through her veins.

  She rounded the corner and skidded to a sudden halt. Not twenty paces away, the tunnel ended at the river. There, in plain view, floated the boat carrying Jarl, Gorin, the Grubbers, and the jewel-encrusted golden sarcophagus of Lady Auslan.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  DAMN IT! ILANNA cursed. Jarl was supposed to have passed this section already. Either the current was stronger than he anticipated, or the pulley system had suffered a malfunction.

  Whatever the problem, Ilanna had an instant to react. At any moment, the Arbitors would round the corner and see the boat. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Gritting her teeth, she dropped the beamer lamp, turned, and sprinted back the way she’d come. Straight into the arms of the blue-clad guards.

  She drew her sword as she rounded the corner. The two foremost Arbitors stopped, shocked, less than five paces away. Ilanna shouted at the top of her lungs and rushed the one on the left. She struck out, a graceless slash meant to give the Arbitor pause rather than inflict injury. The man leapt out of her way and she pounded past without pause.

  Three more Arbitors rushed her with drawn swords and fury etched into their faces. They slowed and spread out, forming a wall of metal and muscle she couldn’t hope to cut her way through.

  Ilanna’s left hand darted into her pouch. Drawing out one of Darreth’s pipettes, she sent the glass tube hurtling toward the Arbitor on the far right. It shattered on the guard’s breastplate, and the man flinched and raised his hands to protect himself. In that moment of inattention, Ilanna slid around him.

  Grasping hands reached for her, and she was glad she’d abandoned her cloak and leather vest. She sprinted toward the intersection at the end of the tunnel. If she could reach it before any more Arbitors arrived, she’d have a chance of—

  A single blue-clad guard appeared around the corner. His eyes widened and his hand went to the sword on his belt. Holding it like a club, he held his position at the intersection.

  Ilanna had only one choice: she rushed straight at him. The Arbitor swung for her head. Ilanna didn’t bother ducking. She raised her slim sword and blocked the blow. The impact jarred her arm to the shoulder, snapped the fencing blade. But the guard had committed his full strength to the blow. As his body twisted with the follow-through, Ilanna dropped her sword and dived to the left. She rolled to her feet and dashed through the intersection.

  Darkness enveloped her as she rushed down the tunnel beyond. She drew out the quickfire globes and held them high. Jarl had plotted an escape route against this precise eventuality, but she’d abandoned it to prevent the Arbitors from discovering the boat. Now she had to find her own way out. Judging by the shouts behind her, the Duke’s guards hadn’t abandoned their pursuit.

  Instinct shrieked in the back of Ilanna’s mind. She slid to a halt, her eyes
going wide. Not two steps ahead, the tunnel floor ended in a void that swallowed the faint light of the quickfire globes.

  She muttered a string of curses. She had seconds before the Arbitors would reach her. So how in the frozen hell am I going to get out of here?

  Whirling, she raised the quickfire globes high. She stood on a ledge three paces wide and four across. The tunnel ended three paces behind her, and the stone ceiling rose high overhead.

  She caught a glimpse of another tunnel mouth near the ceiling. Perhaps she could escape that way. She discarded the idea. No way could she climb out of the Arbitors’ reach before they caught up.

  Damn it!

  Her ears pricked up at the rush of falling water. It came from her left. She sprinted to the edge of the shelf and pointed the pitiful light of the quickfire globes toward the sound. If she could get to the water, the current would carry her downstream to the Stannar River. She’d take the icy, fast-rushing river over capture by the Duke’s Arbitors any day.

  Stuffing the quickfire globes into her pouch, she felt for hand and footholds on the wall. Moisture turned the stones slick but age had worn cracks into the masonry. She climbed out to the left instead of up. If she could get far enough away, the Arbitors might think she’d jumped.

  Her heart thundered in nervous terror. A thick, oppressive blackness surrounded her. She had no idea how far she’d fall and no desire to find out. After a few moments of desperate slithering along the wall, she slowed to a steady pace. She had no need to sacrifice safety for speed. Even if the Arbitors saw her, they couldn’t catch her. Not in those heavy boots and breastplates.

  Light glimmered to her right, growing brighter and accompanied by the sound of tramping feet and shouted curses.

  “She’s gone.” An Arbitor’s voice echoed from the cavernous ceiling.

  Another voice answered. “She can’t have just disappeared!”