01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  The fence took a seat behind the table and picked up a large diamond. He held it up and examined it critically. Returning it to the pile, he grasped another. He nodded to himself as he returned it. Then Arcus glanced into the open pack.

  “Is that Lord Saris's signet?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You know I don't move anything unique,” Arcus said. The edge to his voice brought a burly man into the room. Tattooed and scarred, the guard palmed the hilt of a sword. Arcus waved him aside.

  “The signet is not for you,” Jack said. When he didn't elaborate, Arcus shrugged.

  “I'm surprised you didn't take more from him.”

  “Too much to carry in one load,” Jack admitted. “I stashed some in his house that I'll pick up later.”

  Arcus chuckled. “You are the most forthcoming thief I work with, Jack. You should be in the guild.”

  “How much for the lot?” he asked, avoiding the topic.

  Arcus folded his spindly arms. “Fifty gold.”

  Jack’s expression became annoyed and he let the silence hang. After a moment Arcus growled and shook his head.

  “It will be difficult to move quickly, Jack, you know that. Steal from a lord and I can't give you full rate. They keep track of their jewels too closely—even magically tag them.”

  Jack continued to stare until the old man grumbled under his breath and stabbed a finger at the pile.

  “Sixty-five.”

  “Seventy.”

  They locked eyes for a moment until Arcus relented. “Fifty now, twenty more when they are sold.”

  “Done.”

  Arcus whisked the gold off the table and into one of the many strongboxes that lined the wall. “I'll deposit the coin into your account as usual.”

  Jack heard the smugness in the fence's voice and realized he'd given in too early, but found that he didn’t care. He'd spent months preparing to steal from Saris but this time the reward was not in the coin.

  “Until next time, Arcus,” he said, and stepped to the door.

  The man gestured to him. “Watch yourself, Jack. Stealing from a lord may garner more attention than you desire.”

  Or exactly the attention I want.

  Jack smirked. “I can take care of myself.”

  He slipped outside and ascended the stairs. When he reached the street he heard another echo of footfalls. He smiled to himself but did not look back. Whoever followed him had been trained well but couldn’t know he had enhanced hearing.

  He turned south and moved through the quiet streets of Terros. It was the dead of night, but groups of guards occasionally appeared and ambled past him. Giving them a wide berth, he stayed in Blue District until he reached the gate for Gold District. As the central place of commerce in the city, the district contained many people working late or enjoying the various entertainments.

  Light cascaded from windows as shopkeepers tallied their earnings from the day. Laughter and music filtered from the interior of raucous taverns. Avoiding the crowds and the inevitable guards tasked with watching them, he dodged to a quiet street. Once there, Jack undid the clasp of his cloak and allowed it to flow behind him, revealing clothing more suited to a merchant than a thief.

  His tunic was of fine cloth and deep blue, pairing well with the black slacks. A strap of leather across his shoulder went to his waist and held a brace of knives hidden behind an artistic strip of green. Another blade lay hidden in a sheath that ran along his spine. The hilt pointed down, allowing for a subtle draw.

  He could have passed for a merchant except for his youth. At twenty-three he looked much younger. His lips betrayed a touch of arrogance, but his striking features drew the gaze of the women he passed. Aware of their scrutiny Jack glanced their way, enjoying the flush that crept into their skin when he smiled.

  Several times he heard the faint echoes of his pursuer but did not deviate from his course, even when he heard a second hunter. He reached the edge of Gold District and passed into the largest district in Terros. Although its official name was South District, everyone called it the Sticks.

  Dilapidated structures leaned at unsettling angles, covered in grime from their proximity to the Factory District. The streets contained runoff from the upper districts, the soiled water trickling down the gutters that bordered the road. The liquid added a perpetual reek that lingered on buildings and clothes alike.

  Merchants, craftsmen, and soldiers entered the Sticks for business, but avoided it when possible. Thieves were common among the poor, and many of the visitors had seen their purse strings cut. Few of the thieves were guild trained. Those unfortunate enough to be caught were hanged on the hill at the center of the district, their bodies left as a reminder to the populace.

  Again wrapped in his cloak, Jack turned down a side street until he reached a two-story structure. The building contained a shop on the ground floor and a home above. The glass had been broken often, so the owner had installed makeshift bars across the openings. Jack passed by and entered the alley at the side.

  Crouching, he leapt ten feet up the side and caught a brick that bordered a window. Levering himself up, he climbed inside and glided toward the bed. A young woman huddled under a thin blanket. It was a far cry from her previous home, where she'd been a servant of Lord Saris until recent events brought about her dismissal. Four months ago Jack had overheard her speaking in a tavern and recognized the opportunity. The next day he'd begun seeking employment at Lord Saris's estate.

  He reached into his pack and withdrew the signet. He placed the ring with a letter of explanation on the nightstand and withdrew. Jack smiled as he thought of Saris's expression when this servant girl appeared with proof of his affection. The bulge of his eyes, the veins popping in his thick neck—the man would explode like a dwarven fire bomb. It would be worth attending the inquisition just to see his reaction.

  He slipped out the window and ascended to the roof. Reaching the top, he jumped to a neighboring building and continued southwest, leaping from structure to structure. He picked up the pace, measuring the response from his pursuers. They matched it, indicating they knew he'd sensed their presence. With difficulty, he reigned in his excitement.

  It might not be them.

  As he led his pursuers across the rooftops, Jack followed a circuitous route to his target. After twenty minutes he dropped to the street and entered one of the many parks that dotted the city. Unkempt and overgrown, this one had become a haven for criminals and the homeless. Prowlers lurked in the bushes, hoping against all reason that a catch would amble through. He ignored them and strode to the center of the park.

  A broken fountain depicted a knight bearing a shield and giant sword. In distant memory enchanted water had flowed about its feet, rising up to give the statue a more lifelike appearance. The magic had long since faded and the stone had worn down until the knight looked tired and old.

  Around the statue oak trees grew, their branches intertwining. Thick and gnarled, they blocked the moon except for a pool of light that fell upon the statue. The air reeked of the Sticks, and the rustle of rodents marred the still night.

  Jack came to a halt at the edge of shadow, his gaze searching the trees as he plotted multiple escape routes. It had taken six years to get here, and if he did not play the part well they would kill him.

  It was also possible they could be assassins sent by one of his past targets. If that was the case, he'd placed himself in a trap. He frowned, considering that possibility and how he could respond. As much as he'd sought to develop his thieving skills, he'd lacked the time to study swordcraft. Magic from his youth had permanently enhanced his body, but assassins would undoubtedly possess their own advantages.

  A rasp of cloth on bark indicated the approach of his pursuers. He tensed, waiting as he tracked their movements. One appeared in front of him while a second came from the east. Then he heard a third figure approaching from the west. They stepped into the pool of moonlight, blocking him on three sides.

&
nbsp; His gaze flicked between the men and the woman. All three were dressed in fine clothing and their cloaks rippled as if made of shadows. Each appeared unarmed, but Jack doubted that was the case. The man in the center folded his arms and smiled.

  “Jack Myst,” he drawled, “wanted in several cities across four kingdoms for bribery, theft, damage of property, inciting a riot, and dozens of other offenses.”

  “I don't care to be tracked.”

  The man peaked an eyebrow. “And stealing from Lord Saris?”

  “Another noble that needs humbling,” Jack said with a shrug. “What do you care?”

  “We've been observing you for some time,” the man said, a smirk playing across his features. “We know much of what you have done in the last year.”

  Jack retreated a step, deeper into the darkness. “If it's recompense you seek, I have sold what I have taken.”

  “And if we’re here to kill you?” the man asked, his head tilting forward in anticipation.

  Jack smirked in turn. “You would have to catch me first.”

  He whirled and leapt, catching a branch of an oak tree. He pulled himself above it and jumped to another limb before sprinting away. In his wake he heard the man speak to the woman.

  “Beauty, run him down.”

  Chapter 2: Invitation

  Jack bounded between trees, using the branches to swing over gaps. He was curious about his pursuers so he kept his pace slow. To his surprise Beauty kept pace with him—and even closed the gap. Although she stayed on the ground she had no trouble following his track. He reached the edge of the garden and leapt into the street.

  Beauty burst from the trees behind him and aimed a small crossbow at him. He leapt to the side as she fired. The bolt exploded into enchanted ropes and crashed into a wall. He looked back and smirked.

  “You missed.”

  His laugh echoed across the street, and he was rewarded by her curse. She reloaded but he had already darted down an alley. The darkness swallowed him, but his night vision kept him from stumbling.

  He spotted a tree between a pair of buildings and caught one of the branches. Levering himself, he leapt twenty feet and caught the roof of one of the buildings. As he ascended to the top he glanced back and saw Beauty following his route. She leapt the gap as he did, and even landed atop the roof, suggesting enhanced strength as well.

  “You are a fool if you think you can escape me,” she growled.

  “With a lady as strong as you, I'd be a fool not to try.”

  He looked back as he leapt to another building. Tall and slender, the woman had black hair and striking features. She appeared close to his age yet moved with experience and skill. Her sinuous form was distracting in such a setting. In the last few minutes she'd demonstrated strength, speed, agility, and increased vision. The combination of magics suggested one thing.

  Barbarian.

  He stepped off a roof and slid down the angle before leaping at the edge. The next building was a shop with the sign jutting out above the door. Snagging the wood, he scaled to the roof and kept running. He glanced back again, pleased and annoyed that Beauty kept pace.

  “I never realized barbarian women chase their men,” Jack called. She cursed his name, causing him to laugh.

  “Which tribe are you from?” she shot back.

  He slid to a halt and faced her. “Do you see body magic in me?”

  She also halted abruptly, her green eyes flicking over his body before narrowing in confusion. “No.”

  “I hope you enjoyed the look,” Jack said with a smirk, and then stepped off the roof.

  He fell ten feet and caught the top of a window, swinging himself into the interior of a house. Darting over a bed and the woman sleeping in it, he turned down the hall as Beauty catapulted into the room. He turned a corner and then entered a second bedroom, this one occupied by a man hunched over a desk.

  “By Ero's staff!” the man cried as Jack sped past him.

  “My apologies,” Jack said and dived through the window.

  Jack heard his squeak of surprise as Beauty streaked past him. Then Jack landed on the ground and sprinted north, weaving through alleys, streets, and gardens.

  She accelerated after him, gaining with every stride. Recognizing he could not outrun her while she used a speed spell, Jack leapt atop a wagon and returned to the rooftops. Just as he alighted he heard the twinge of a crossbow—and dived forward.

  A crossbow bolt streaked by him, grazing his shoulder. It struck the chimney in front of him and erupted into a cloud of smoke. Coughing, he stumbled through it and exited to find Beauty climbing into view. She drew a curved blade and stalked forward.

  On instinct he reached to his spine and drew his dagger, flicking it up to knock her blade aside. She rotated back, using the curve of her blade to sneak past his guard and nick his side. He grunted and struck, swinging his dagger toward her shoulder. She withdrew with ease.

  “You missed,” she said sweetly.

  He grunted in irritation and pulled a throwing dagger. With a flick of his wrist he sent it spinning toward her. She knocked it aside, and Jack used the distraction to dive back into the smoke. Holding his breath, he changed direction and darted north. Bursting from the smoke he leapt to a roof of a lower building.

  Bounding across the rooftops, he used his agility to dive and weave his way between chimneys and the occasional clothesline. The barriers prevented her from using her crossbow, but did little to slow her pursuit.

  His path took him toward the district wall. As he neared the towering barrier he spotted a channel of water curving against its base. Beams extended out from the wall and held orbs of light that illuminated the canal and the neighboring road. In most districts the wall lights were well maintained, but here they were dim or dark.

  “Do you always corner your men?” he called over his shoulder. “Or just the ones you favor?”

  “Just the ones I want to kill,” she shot back.

  He slid to a stop and spun to face her. She came to a stop as well, her curved blade in one hand with the small hand crossbow in the other.

  “Is that your purpose?” he asked.

  “If it wasn't before, it is now.”

  “I'm sorry to disappoint, then,” he said.

  He grinned and whirled, leaping out to a flagpole that rose above the street. Touching one foot on the top, he threw himself over the canal to catch one of the beams extending from the wall. His body swung forward and he burned off his momentum by running up the stone. Then he flipped onto the beam and crouched. He turned to find that she had not moved.

  “What is the source of your magic, thief?” she called out.

  “You expect me to tell on the first engagement?” he asked. “I doubt you would be as forthcoming.”

  She released an annoyed sigh. “We are just here to talk.”

  He stood and leaned against the wall of his perch, the languid pose demonstrating his doubt. “Then talk.”

  Her gaze flicked to the side and a smile crossed her lips. “I hope you enjoy the fall.”

  The twang of a crossbow touched his ears, and before he could react a crossbow bolt hit his side. Rather than pierce his flesh, it exploded into enchanted ropes that bound him.

  He cursed as it pulled him free and he plummeted into the canal below. The cool water crashed over him, the current dragging him east. The air in his lungs drove him to the surface, where he managed to rip an arm free. By the time he'd disentangled himself and reached the road, the trio stood before him once more. This time Beauty and the second man held naked blades in their hands.

  “I'll have to burn these clothes, you know,” he said, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “I'm sure you know the reek never fades.”

  “Even trapped you are defiant,” the center man said, “I must say we picked well.”

  “I don't like him,” Beauty said, and sniffed. “He has no respect.”

  The second man issued a rumbling laugh. “I dare say he got under her skin,
Slyver. How many have managed to do that?”

  She threw him a scathing look. “Careful, Brolan,” she said, her tone like poisoned honey, “or you might wake to find a dagger in your ribs.”

  Brolan grinned. “Careful yourself, Beauty, or the others might think you have lost yourself over Jack.”

  Jack folded his arms. “Whatever your business, speak it and be done with it.”

  Slyver gestured to Jack's pack. “You stole Saris's signet and gave it to a peasant girl. Why?”

  Jack grinned, once again imagining Saris when the girl revealed it at the inquisition. “Watching a Lord squirm is its own reward.”

  “As you say,” Brolan said with a hearty laugh, and sheathed his sword. Reluctantly Beauty returned the curving dagger to her back.

  “We hail from the Thieves Guild,” Slyver said, “and come to invite you to join our ranks.”

  “And give your guild part of my earnings?” Jack issued a grunt of disapproval. “I have no need of you.”

  “Your skills are impressive,” Slyver said. “I'll give you that. But with the guild you could do so much more. A few baubles from a Lord cannot compare to the treasures we steal. Besides, every thief knows the inevitability of getting caught, and without aid from the guild their fate is the same.”

  He gestured to the hill where the bodies of thieves dangled. With the soft breeze, the corpses swayed in the moonlight. Jack frowned at the reminder.

  “I always escape before the hanging,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” Slyver said, “but it only has to happen once.”

  Jack could not refute that, so he folded his arms. “What do you want?”

  “In fifteen days you will meet us at the Dragon's Fire tavern in Herosian. From there you will be guided to the guild, where you can make the attempt to join us.”

  “Attempt?” Jack asked. “Is this not an invitation to join the guild?”

  Slyver jerked his head. “All hopefuls endure a trial,” he said. “It separates the ones with talent from those . . . less talented.”

  “I hope the Machine tears you apart,” Beauty muttered.