01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  Chapter 7: The Amazon Assignment

  The Guildmaster led him up a turret and then through a door to exit the fortress. Jack blinked and shielded his eyes from the sun. Then he realized they stood on a balcony that connected the two highest turrets in the fortress.

  The vantage point stood above the mist, granting an unparalleled view of the swamp. The oval balcony was empty except for an alcove that sat adjacent to the tower. Inside Jack spotted an assortment of weapons of various types.

  Drawn to the battlements, Jack stepped to the edge and looked down at the mist shrouding the fortress below. The green fog curled around towers, seeping into courtyards, and obscuring ramparts.

  “It’s a stunning view,” the Guildmaster remarked.

  Jack turned to face him. “How did the world forget such a castle?”

  “The ancient Verinai built this as a refuge,” he replied. “At the time, it stood on the border of the swamp. With the Verinai’s demise, the swamp claimed the region, and the races assumed the castle had fallen. The Thieves Guild saw the opportunity and sought it out, reinforcing the supports so it would endure.”

  “And you?” Jack asked. “How did you become Guildmaster?”

  “I'm more interested in you,” he said, sidestepping the question. “How did you gain your skill? Beauty has informed me you are not a barbarian, so it is not body magic you possess.”

  Jack smirked. “You keep your secrets, I keep mine.”

  The Guildmaster burst into laughter. “You act like a guild thief already.” His dark eyes flicked to the weapons locker. “Perhaps it's time I see what my new third rank is capable of.”

  He strode to the alcove and picked up a curving short sword with a serrated edge and moved to the center balcony. Then Jack noticed the colored ring painted on the stones, the size matching that of practice rings used throughout Lumineia for soldiers to train.

  Instead of choosing from the alcove, Jack pulled the long dagger from his back. “I have little patience for swordcraft,” he said.

  “That is a fact we must remedy,” the Guildmaster replied, and used his sword to motion Jack into the ring.

  Jack stepped forward and the Guildmaster darted in. With a speed and deftness attained from decades of practice, the man decimated Jack's attempt at swordplay and struck him to the stones with the hilt. Jack's vision blurred, and when it cleared he found the Guildmaster standing over him.

  “You spoke the truth,” he said, a trace of surprise in his voice.

  Jack wiped a trickle of blood from his cheek and climbed to his feet. “I may be a thief, but I only lie on assignment.”

  For the second time the Guildmaster laughed. “You are an intriguing hopeful Jack, but you did not come here solely to steal.” He began to stalk forward, flicking his sword upward.

  Jack stood his ground and sheathed his dagger. “I've never cared for intrigue unless I cause it. Speak your mind and be done with it.”

  The irritation in his voice brought the Guildmaster to a halt. A trace of respect appeared in his eyes and he straightened out of his combat crouch. Flicking his hand, he sent the sword sinking into the wood of the weapons alcove.

  “You may have your secrets,” he said, “for now. As a class three you have unrestricted access to all trainers. I suggest you use them to shore up your skills with a blade. But unfortunately it will have to wait. Class three and four thieves are akin to captains within the guild, and use their skills to lead and guide the lower classes. Normally thieves have years to learn our ways before they lead others, but you won't have that luxury. As such I'm assigning you, with a pair of the more promising hopefuls, for training. For the purposes of this assignment you will report to Forlana.”

  “I don't need schooling,” Jack said.

  “That remains to be seen,” the Guildmaster said, his voice turning hard. “And it is not your talent I question, but your character and loyalty. You've earned your rank. Now you earn my trust.”

  Jack managed to keep his annoyance from his features, and reminded himself that the time might prove useful. At the very least he could learn from a veteran guild member. Reluctantly he inclined his head.

  “As you order.”

  The Guildmaster strode to the door and swung it open to find Slyver already standing there, apparently waiting for orders. He nodded to Jack before addressing the Guildmaster.

  “The hopefuls are finished with the Machine,” he said.

  “Take our newest class three about the castle,” the Guildmaster replied. He cast a final look over his shoulder. “Welcome to the guild, Jack. I do look forward to watching your career.”

  He stepped past Slyver and disappeared. Once he was gone Slyver glowered at Jack. “He must like you. He rarely allows others to use his training circle.”

  Jack laughed wryly. “I suspect too much affection from him can be lethal.”

  Slyver snorted in agreement and motioned him down the stairs. “This way. You're a class three, so instead of Iron Hall you get a room adjacent to Ember Hall.”

  “So long as I can replace my cloak.”

  Slyver smirked. “You'll get equipment from Thalidon.”

  As Jack listened to Slyver talk, his mind remained on the sunlit balcony. He had no doubt the Guildmaster had wanted to test him. But the Guildmaster also wanted to ensure Jack understood his place, and how easily the Guildmaster could kill him if he desired to.

  “Who is the Guildmaster?” Jack asked, interrupting Slyver.

  The man paused and rotated back. “The Guildmaster likes his privacy,” he said, “and you would be wise to respect it.”

  “But he's barely in his forties,” Jack said. “Surely some of the older thieves know where he came from. If you don't know, perhaps I'll ask them.”

  “You could—but they will say the same thing.”

  Jack heard the warning in his voice and read the truth in his eyes. Asking such questions was dangerous, and likely invited punishment to inspire such hesitation in Slyver. Resigning himself to ignorance, Jack turned his attention to the castle. The base was larger than it appeared from outside and contained three great halls, one of which held the Machine. The second housed the first and second rank thieves, while the third was reserved for those third and above.

  He climbed the steps to Ember Hall and stepped into the vaulted chamber. Huge pillars supported the roof, their sides covered with handholds and traps. The challenging surfaces extended to the ceiling and the curving walls of the chamber. Unlike the Machine, the walls of Ember Hall were not lethal, and served as a training ground for the upper level thieves.

  He watched a gnome crossing the roof like a spider. Then he reached out to the top of a pillar, an inky thread of magic stretching from his gauntlet to attach to the surface. Releasing the ceiling, he began to slide down the pillar, accelerating as he descended. When the light from the hearth proved too great the black rope evaporated, and the gnome dropped to the ground. He rolled to absorb the impact, eliciting laughter from an azure thief nearby.

  “Not fast enough,” he said, and motioned upward.

  Jack followed his arm to spot Beauty climbing halfway up another pillar to reach the darkened section of stone. Reaching out, she activated a magic in her bracer, sending a thread of black ink streaking toward the ceiling. It stuck fast, allowing her to leap off. As she swung toward an upper balcony the tool retracted, yanking her upward. She tapped the ceiling and then released, dropping seventy feet in a blur of motion. Evidently with a strength spell active, she struck the ground hard, cracking a stone from the impact.

  The gnome snarled under his breath and reached into his coin pouch. Withdrawing a silver piece, he tossed it to Beauty. She smiled as she rolled the coin across her knuckles and then pocketed it.

  “Care for a second go?” she asked, a gold piece appearing in her hand. “I'll triple the wager.”

  The gnome growled and turned away, eliciting a round of laughter from the thieves watching. Then Beauty caught sight of Jack an
d her eyes narrowed. Tossing the coin into the air as if to entice him, she gestured to the pillar.

  “What about you, Jack? First to touch the ceiling and the floor?”

  Although the atmosphere of the hall was light, Jack sensed a current of tension. The Guildmaster may have been absent, but his presence lingered among the thieves as if he watched from above.

  “Another time,” he said with a smirk. “But I don't wager gold. A kiss, however . . .”

  Several sucked in their breath, their eyes flicking to Beauty, who went rigid. “I'd rather cut my lips off,” she snapped, and stalked from the hall.

  In her absence Slyver began to chuckle. “Good luck, Jack. Beauty may have the looks, but she's as lethal as a blade at your back.”

  “I know how to handle a blade at my back,” Jack said easily.

  Slyver snorted and turned into a side corridor. “Among other amenities reserved for upper-ranked thieves, you get a private room.”

  He came to a stop at a door and produced a key which he handed to Jack. Jack flashed an incredulous look as he took it.

  “This isn't going to stop anyone,” Jack said, and gestured to the lock.

  “True,” Slyver agreed with a grin. “But breaking into another room is grounds for ejection from the guild—and the Guildmaster views it as if you fled.”

  “Does he really cut off their limbs?”

  “Always,” Slyver said, his expression grim. “He kills their families and then drags them back here. Sometimes it's a finger, and other times it's a foot. Then he lets them go before starting the hunt anew.”

  “Isn’t that excessive?” Jack folded his arms. “This isn't the Cult of Skorn.”

  Slyver grinned at the reference to the fanatical worshipers rumored to maim traitors. “As you say,” he agreed, “but nevertheless, the Guildmaster takes obedience seriously.”

  Jack shrugged and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, he entered his personal quarters. A bed with fitted sheets and a drape sat to one side, while a small study was visible through a second door. Complete with an ensconced closet, weapons case, and fireplace, the sleeping room would have been at home in Lord Saris's estate.

  Slyver grinned at his expression. “Usually it takes a thief ten years to reach this rank.”

  “How many thieves are in the guild?”

  “The Guildmaster is the only one who knows the identity of everyone,” Slyver said, “but I'd say around five hundred now. Among them there are threescore class three, and two class four.”

  “If the Guildmaster is the first, who's the second?”

  “Kuraltus,” he said. “He's the master of the elven guildhall.”

  Jack went rigid when he heard the name. He'd known Kuraltus was at the western guildhall, but had been unable to find it on his own. Excitement warred with his surge of anger, and he worked to keep his voice casual.

  “I understand the elven guildhall is the most profitable?”

  Slyver flashed a sly grin. “Chasing the coin? I can respect that. But untested thieves are not permitted to work from the western guildhall, even if they are class three. The profits may be higher, but so is the risk. Elven magic is as formidable as what they guard is profitable.”

  Jack turned away to hide his smile. He could bide his time a little more. Now that he knew the location of Kuraltus, that only left Nemeth and Shelt.

  “The quarters are better than I could have expected,” Jack said, turning back to Slyver. “But I suspect it comes with a price.”

  Slyver began to chuckle. “The Guildmaster expects the upper-ranked thieves to earn their position. You can be certain the assignments will challenge your talents. There are a number of trainers available to you in a variety of skills. I suggest you take advantage of them. They will help augment your talent with skills befitting your new rank.”

  “Well said,” a female voice spoke.

  Jack turned to find an older woman standing in the doorway. Dressed in form fitting clothing, she stood with a carriage that implied formal training. Her features were angular and attractive in spite of her age, but Jack's eyes were drawn to her bald head.

  She frowned in annoyance. “Didn't your mother ever teach you not to stare?”

  “She would have called you an exception to that rule,” Jack said.

  His bluntness caused her to grin. “Your first assignment,” she said, and extended a scrap of parchment to him. “Don't be late.”

  He looked at the paper and his eyebrows shot up. “We're supposed to steal a war? How does one do that?”

  “Welcome to the guild,” she said, and departed with a laugh.

  Chapter 8: Thalidon

  “Who was that?” Jack asked after the woman had left.

  “Forlana,” he replied. “One of our most gifted class three thieves.”

  “Does the Guildmaster always give assignments so quickly?” Jack asked.

  “Always,” Slyver said, and stepped back into the hall. “Street thieves are known for stealing out of laziness, but we steal by contract. There is no room for indolence here.”

  “A pity,” Jack said, causing Slyver to smile.

  “Since you depart in the morning, you need to get outfitted.”

  “I already have what I need.”

  Slyver shook his head. “No. You don't.”

  They returned to Ember Hall and passed through it. In a turret situated between Ember and Iron Halls, they entered a plunging staircase. The air warmed as they descended until they reached a sprawling workroom. Littered with all manner of equipment, parts, and scraps, the space resembled a refuse pit. A quartet of roaring fires kept the space suffocatingly hot, and Jack wiped the sudden sweat from his brow.

  “Thalidon!”Slyver shouted, and a dwarf's head popped into view.

  “Slyver? How are those new adjustments working out?”

  “Perfectly,” he said, eliciting a smile from the dwarf.

  Jack couldn't tear his eyes from him. Although unmistakably a dwarf, he'd shaved his beard and cut his hair short. His dark eyes lit with excitement at their presence, and he scurried into view to reveal a trim frame covered with workman's attire.

  “This is Jack,” Slyver said, “a new class three. Get him outfitted, would you?” Then he nodded to Jack and left.

  “Come,” the dwarf said, and led Jack through the labyrinth of tables to a long workbench near a fire. Donning a pair of spectacles, he leaned close and picked up an assortment of parts. With deft fingers he assembled a small hand crossbow and handed it to Jack.

  “Try it.”

  Jack held it up and aimed, but before he'd even sighted the dwarf yanked it from his hands and muttered to himself, changing out several pieces for ones of different sizes. Then he handed it back to Jack—before again snatching it from his fingers.

  “At least let me look at it,” Jack protested.

  “Only when it's finished,” Thalidon chided.

  With difficulty Jack held his irritation in check while the dwarf gave the weapon and took it a dozen times. Then the dwarf ambled to a different workbench containing hundreds of tiny spheres in small glass containers. With great care he took a handful out and slotted them into holes in the shaft of the crossbow, muttering to himself all the while.

  “Water, fire, and sleep—of course—but this one is different from the others. Let's add shadow, piercing, detonation, light—and cold. Yes, that will do. It's heavier than the others, but he’s strong enough for it.”

  He smiled and removed his spectacles before handing the small crossbow to Jack. “An eight-runed crossbow with an automatic bolt loader and a two hundred–pound string ought to suit you.”

  Jack held it up, admiring the handiwork and the runes. He touched the water rune and the bolt flickered to blue.

  “For putting out torches,” the dwarf said.

  Jack aimed at the fire roaring in the hearth nearby and fired. The bolt struck the flames and burst into enchanted water, extinguishing the logs and leaving them steaming. The dwa
rf grunted in annoyance and flicked a hand toward it, lighting it again with flames from his hand.

  “Did you have to do that?”

  Jack shrugged. “Do you have to keep it so hot down here?”

  The dwarf released a rumbling laugh. “It reminds me of home.”

  Jack found a lever on the crossbow and pulled it. To his surprise the bow collapsed onto the shaft, turning the weapon into an innocuous block of black wood. He whistled in admiration and thumbed the barely visible switch, reactivating the crossbow.

  “Clever,” he said.

  “The tools make the thief,” Thalidon said.

  “Only if he has tools like this,” Jack said, examining the hand crossbow with renewed interest.

  The dwarf grinned and stepped to yet another table to pick up a harness. Eyeing it critically, he tossed it aside and picked up another. Then he dug into a pile before he found one he liked and handed it to Jack.

  “A thief's webbing,” he said. “It will hide your tools under a tunic or cloak.” He sniffed in annoyance. “Most adapt them for their own purposes, without even thinking about how much work I . . .”

  The dwarf's voice became indecipherable as he threaded his way to a table covered with oblong stones. Snatching one up, he stepped to the neighboring table and picked up another stone the color of straw. With a flick of his hand he tossed them to Jack.

  “Pebbles?”

  “Squeeze the yellow one.”

  Jack shrugged and did as suggested—and light exploded throughout the room. “By Ero,” he growled, clenching his eyes shut. “Do you ever give a warning, dwarf?”

  The light cut off as the dwarf burst into laughter. “Thieves that give warning get caught,” he said. “The lightstone serves as both guide in the dark and distraction in a battle. The speedstone will give you vastly enhanced speed for a short time. I would advise you learn their limits before attempting to use them.”