01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  Brolan grinned. “Five gold says he reaches level two on his first attempt.”

  “Ten,” Beauty snapped. “And another ten he comes out maimed.”

  The banter provided Jack a hint of the Machine he would face, and the caliber of the thieves. Ten gold was a fortune in the Sticks, and a week's wages for a merchant in the Gold District. To bet the amount so easily suggested they had coin to spare.

  “I'll consider it,” Jack said.

  “We will not extend an invitation a second time,” Slyver said, his voice gaining an edge. “And if you are not part of the guild, we might one day become foes. You can be certain that is a future you do not wish to experience.”

  “Join the guild,” Brolan said. “Trust me on that.”

  “Trust is not a currency I spend easily,” Jack said.

  Brolan shrugged and turned away. “Then I hope we don't meet on a rooftop someday. I'd hate to kill you.”

  The retort died on Jack's lips when Brolan evaporated into the night. The speed of his disappearance made Jack doubt his success in an engagement with the man. Beauty grinned at him.

  “I hope you do come,” she said. “But only so I can witness your death on the Machine.”

  Her voice had changed to inviting, with no trace of her previous animosity. Adept at deception, stealth, and magic, the woman was more dangerous than she appeared.

  “You already examined my body,” Jack replied easily. “But I suppose I can permit you a second look.”

  His words earned a scowl before she too disappeared. Alone on the dark street, Slyver inclined his head to him.

  “Fifteen days, Jack. Don't be late.”

  Slyver withdrew into the shadows, leaving Jack to his thoughts. He stared after them until a breeze cut across the street, chilling his wet clothing. Frowning, he removed his cloak and tossed it away. Then he strode north toward a stash he maintained in the Sticks.

  As he left the pool of light, a smile crossed his face before it tightened with anger. He'd spent six years cultivating a persona the thieves would want, and now that the invitation had come he struggled to contain the simmering rage. Once he’d joined the guild he had three men to find.

  And three men to kill.

  Chapter 3: Morissa

  After years of expectation, Jack could not bring himself to sit idle. He caught a ship south the next morning. As he boarded he overheard a pair of sailors talking about a girl that had showed up with a Lord’s signet ring. As they loaded crates on the vessel the men shared a laugh at Saris's expense. Jack grinned, and gave an approving nod to the girl's haste.

  It was always possible that Lord Saris would claim the signet had been stolen, but that would require him to admit his vaunted house had been breached. Doing so would be a veritable invitation to thieves throughout the city. His house would be stalked from every angle while the Lord's enemies laughed at his embarrassment. As much consternation as paying the girl would cause, it would still be a preferable outcome.

  The captain caught Jack’s eye and strode to him. “Count Telen,” he said, and inclined his head. “I have had a bunk prepared for you, as you requested.”

  “Excellent,” Jack said. “And as we discussed, I'm staying with a relative, Lord Saris, at the moment. Please ensure the charge for my passage is sent to him.”

  “As you order, your Grace.”

  “You have my gratitude, Captain,” Jack replied. “My belongings are on the dock.”

  “I'll have them taken to your quarters.”

  Jack nodded and strode to the steps, his thoughts on his persona. It was only the second time Jack had used the Count, but he found the man an appealing cloak to wear. Few bothered to look into a minor lord from a rural community, but they still gave deference as if he were a high duke of Terros.

  His youth counted against him when wearing a persona of rank, but Jack had long since learned that confidence was the best currency. Act and dress like a lord and few questions were asked. He just had to ensure he wasn’t too memorable.

  He stepped into his quarters to find them small and neat, but it was obvious the previous passenger had been seasick. An effort had been made to clean the vomit from the floor but the scent lingered. Ignoring it, he flopped onto the bunk and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts shifting to the thieves. A moment later a deckhand brought him his luggage.

  His features relaxed into those of Count Telen and he rose to greet the man. Accepting a copper of gratitude, the man retreated, and Jack returned to his brooding. It had been six years since the thieves had come to his home and killed everything he’d cared about. Three thieves had escaped the carnage that night, and now Jack would have the chance to find them.

  Nemeth, Kuraltus, Shelt.

  The names were branded onto his mind. He'd been homeless and angry for the first two years, and food had been the first thing he'd taken. His talents made thieving easy, and he'd absorbed everything the street had to teach. He'd learned to pick locks, wear a persona like a cowl, and embrace darkness like an old friend. Then he’d set about garnering the guild's attention.

  With a sigh he rose. As much as he would have liked to sit and ponder the past, he had appearances to keep up. Changing into clothing more suitable for travel on a ship, he exited his cabin and ascended to the deck to watch them set sail. As it was a passenger ship, it carried an abundance of guests. Most were at least moderately wealthy, and he identified a pair of women with superfluous coin.

  Donning a disarming smile, he approached and engaged them in conversation. By the end of the day he knew every piece of gold in their possession, but waited until the final night of the voyage to steal a handful of coins. As much as he would have enjoyed taking everything, he liked Count Telen too much to burn him so easily.

  A week after departing Terros the ship slid into port at Doranith, a small port city of Talinor. Jack descended the gangplank and strode toward the stables. He could have taken a coach but had no desire for the slow place.

  Neat and orderly, the village demonstrated all the trademarks of a Talinor settlement. Where Griffin's buildings had been flecked with grime, the buildings of Doranith were painted white, blue, and a shimmering green. Tile roofs contained a red that reflected the midday sun, making them appear even brighter. Even the poorer homes contained new thatch, the straw cut less than a year ago.

  Jack entered to find the stables clean, the steeds well groomed. The scent of new straw filled his nostrils, mingling with the distinct smell of horses. He spotted the stablemaster and strode to the man's desk.

  “I need a horse to Herosian.”

  “It's a four-day ride,” the man replied without looking up from his work. “Five gold buys you a horse, eight gets you a fast one. Return it to the stables in the capital and we'll buy it back from you.”

  Jack retrieved eight coins he'd taken from the ladies and placed them on the counter. His gaze still on his papers, the stablemaster gestured toward the youth standing at the side of the room. The boy sprinted into the stables and returned with a roan stallion bearing a patch of white across the flank. Jack nodded in approval and flipped the boy a copper piece. Then he tied his pack behind the saddle and mounted.

  “Watch yourself on the road,” the boy said. “A few caravans have been attacked by thieves.”

  Jack grinned at the warning. “I'll manage.”

  Pulling on the reins, he angled onto the road and accelerated once he reached the edge of town. The horse seemed eager, so Jack let him set the pace and relaxed into the saddle. After a week trapped on a ship with nobles, it was a relief to be free.

  The sun brightened as he rode through the hills that marked the northern bank of Talinor. Patches of poplar and cedar dotted the slopes but had been trimmed back from the road to prevent brigands from ambushing travelers.

  The gravel road formed the shortest route for passengers to reach Herosian from the port, and Jack passed a number of merchants and coaches throughout the afternoon. As night fell he reached an inn an
d paid for a room. Usually he preferred to sleep late, but dawn found him wending his way out of the foothills and into the plains.

  A patrol of the legendary Talinor cavalry approached from behind and slowed to question him. Jack responded to their queries with a wide-eyed smile. His persona of a youth from Griffin traveling to work in Talinor worked wonders. The captain even gave him a few coins. Jack accepted them with a smile, amused at the man’s ignorance that he was a wanted fugitive in Talinor.

  Jack reached Herosian earlier than expected, so he left his horse with the stablemaster near the north entrance to the city. Then he made his way south through the packed streets of the capital and pushed into the merchant district.

  Formed like a misshaped circle, Herosian contained streams and canals that crisscrossed the city. Small boats provided quick transportation for goods and passengers while keeping the main roads free of wagons.

  A sprawling castle stood at Herosian’s heart. Unlike the castle at Terros, this had been built with an eye for defense. High walls were interspersed with strategic towers and overlooks. Dwarven-made ballistae dotted the battlements, allowing the King's Guard to fire enormous bolts halfway across the city. Many considered it the strongest fortress in either of the human kingdoms.

  Jack had spent a year in the city and knew it well. Unfortunately, he'd been caught—twice—so his face was known by some of the guards. He'd grown since then and his attire had improved significantly. Still, Jack kept a wary eye out for anyone that might recognize him. He could have kept the horse, but it would have drawn too much attention. Instead he wound his way through the crowd, feigning a passing interest in the wares on either side.

  Shops lined the road, their windows filled with merchandise. Patrons bustled within, purchasing food or ordering goods for business. Cured meats were a primary export of Talinor, as were grains and other produce. With the largest tracts of arable land in any kingdom, Talinor grew half the food consumed by all the kingdoms.

  Jack stopped to purchase a meal and then continued on until he reached the Dancer's Square. Aptly named, the square was bordered on all sides by dance halls, taverns, and other forms of entertainment. With a score of Talinor soldiers patrolling the area, thieves and less savory characters were absent.

  A dancing statue occupied the focus of the broad square. The stone woman twisted and turned, swirling her skirt in a perpetual dance. Musicians and tradesmen occupied the space around the statue, filling the air with their melodies. Giant trees grew throughout the square, their canopies so thick they shaded the crowd.

  Jack skirted the revelers and entered The Regal Knight. One gold per night was expensive, but the inn provided something the others did not. He ascended to his room and entered. Then he strode to the window and slipped onto the roof.

  Steeped in shadow cast by one of the great trees, the space was invisible from below. Jack leapt to one of the branches and cautiously advanced to the heart of the tree. There he came to his stash.

  The trunk of the tree had been enchanted when it was a seed, leading it to grow beyond normal proportions. Doing so had left a hollow in the trunk as large as a small room. Shrouded behind thousands of branches, the hide was further obscured by a cloth Jack had purchased. Resembling the wood on which it hung, the barrier made the stash invisible even if someone managed to climb the tree.

  He glanced back, pleased that he could still catch a glimpse of the room he'd paid for. Most thieves kept their stashes in places devoid of traffic, making them easier to access. Jack preferred to hide his things where no one would look.

  Jack entered his hide and tossed his cloak aside. After days of travel it was a relief to remove the trappings of others and reclaim himself. He sighed and sank onto the small bed before picking up a memory orb ensconced in a section of wood. He touched a finger to it and it brightened, revealing a smiling woman.

  Short and petite, the woman wore her dark hair short and tied back. She appeared pretty yet unremarkable—except for the force to her gaze. At the same time arresting and full of humor, her eyes could not be forgotten.

  The memory orb had captured her as she’d turned toward Jack during a hunt. Light beamed through a break in the tees to fall upon her leaning against a tree, shining across the surprise and delight in her face. Her name was Morissa, but Jack had known her by another name.

  Mother.

  “They've invited me to join the guild,” he murmured.

  The orb did not respond, and he wished again that he'd had the extra coin to buy one imbued with sound as well as light. He'd been young then, and had thought he'd have plenty of time to make another. The thieves had killed her before he could. He reclined on the bed and listened to the sounds of music wafting into his hide. It reminded him of his mother singing as she toiled in the kitchen, and he lifted the orb to see her face reflected back at him. In the background of the image he could just make out the head of a panther lying on the porch.

  He sighed, his thoughts drifting to Shadero. Jack had inherited animal magic from his father, and at the summoning the great cat had come. As happened in many druid companionships, the joining caused a transference of talents. Shadero’s mind had been augmented, while Jack’s body had gained the physical attributes of the panther. Then the thieves had come for his mother, and his cat had given his life to save Jack.

  Jack sensed his panther side stirring in the furthest corners of his mind. Animal and powerful, it rarely surfaced, but it granted a permanent augmentation to Jack’s faculties. It was the gift of a dying brother, the supreme sacrifice of an eternal companion. Jack flexed his fingers, feeling the might running through his veins. It brought a bitter smile to his face.

  “No gift is worth your absence,” he murmured.

  He felt a stab of guilt and thought of his mother’s final words. Do not be what I became, Jack. Swear to me you will never be a thief.

  “Once they’re dead I will leave the guild,” he said. “I promise.”

  His mother stared back at him, her expression somehow sad. Jack sighed and placed the memory orb back in its recess. She hadn’t wanted him to become a thief, but she’d said nothing about punishing those that had killed her. Thief or not, he was still a predator.

  And every predator had its prey.

  Chapter 4: The Dragon’s Fire

  Jack slept until light found a hole in the canopy and warmed his eyelids. With a groan he rose and extricated himself from his hide. With great caution he entered his room in the inn, scanning it for potential threats. It was possible the Thieves Guild had someone watching him, but he doubted they would watch his room. Gathering his gear, he exited the room and descended to the square.

  Much quieter than the previous night, the grounds lay empty except for those who'd succumbed to the revelry. Passing the unconscious forms, he wound his way south through the city. It was well into the morning, and soldiers and businessmen dominated the crowd. While the former patrolled the streets in search of wastrels and drunks, the latter prepared for the day.

  The scent of freshly baked bread wafted across the road as Jack passed a bakery. He swiped a roll from the cart when the man turned away. A moment later he snagged a wedge of cheese from a shop around the corner. Munching on his morning meal, he passed a tannery, and the sounds of shouting workmen mingled with those of the machines.

  A granary sat next to it, and the rumble of stone grinding wheat echoed from the interior. Jack soon left the merchant district behind and the savory scents with it. He turned a corner and shivered when a blast of frigid air passed across him. He glanced up to see a pair of elves through the window, using their magic to freeze water into ice. Water mages were highly prized for their ability to freeze foodstuffs. The guild in Azertorn maintained a presence in nearly every major city, its mages profiting off those who had the gold to pay. Passing through the chill, Jack turned down a side street and entered the Depths.

  Forming much of the southeastern corner of the city, the Depths were built within a large
depression in the earth. Most of the streams and canals that brightened the upper steppes flowed into the Depths, their waters now polluted and dark.

  Previous kings of Talinor had made an effort to repair the Depths and attract honorable business. For a few years it worked, but the area inevitably darkened like an apple left to rot in the sun.

  Inns and taverns were well-built, but the clientele had been hard on them. Many windows were boarded up, the buildings' owners too poor to replace them with fine glass. Although soldiers still patrolled the Depths, they tended to visit less frequently, and only during the day.

  Jack stepped into the shadows to let a group of men and women pass by. Rowdy and staggering, their appearance indicated they had been out all night. Most were offspring of lords and counts that had occupied themselves in the less savory entertainments of the Depths. Such festivities were not condoned by the nobles yet rarely stopped. As much as the upper class of Talinor prided itself on the appearance of propriety, nearly all had enjoyed the Depths in their youth.

  Jack exited the alley as the group passed and slid into a gap next to the stragglers. With nimble fingers he cut the purse strings of a youth. He vaguely recognized him as Lord Uribal's son. The boy had taken after his father in both looks and tastes, and his purse was light after a night of debauchery. Jack smiled as he pocketed the coin and then turned away. As the laughter from the group faded, he continued on his way until he reached the appointed meeting place.

  The Dragon's Fire boasted a stone foundation topped with vaulted beams, but time and weather had robbed it of any elegance. Layers of grime prevented light from penetrating the interior, while rot spotted the wood. The stones had lost their luster, and Jack doubted even magic could clean them.

  He'd heard of the tavern, of course, but had avoided it for its reputation. It was known as a favorite among Thieves Guild members. With so much at stake, Jack had wanted the guild to come to him, not the other way around. Otherwise his motivations might have been suspect.