Child of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  Denber stood over her. “Just past dawn.” The light of a beamer filled the underground room. Snores echoed from the adjoining bunks.

  Why do I have to get up?

  “Time to get up and get out on the streets. Common room, five minutes.” Denber placed the beamer on the chair and left the room.

  Of course. Ilanna groaned. My training with the Foxes. Throwing on her clothes, she hurried to the common room.

  Denber met her in the Aerie with a loaf of bread and a cold sausage. “Eat along the way. The Foxes are expecting you.”

  Conn stumbled into the room. Exhaustion lined his face. He slumped on the bench and rested his head in his hands.

  Ilanna pitched her voice low. “What’s with him?”

  Denber shrugged. “He refuses to say anything, except that he’s planning his Undertaking.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t know. Since nameday, he’s spent most days and nights out on the street. Watcher knows what he’s doing.” He turned to Ilanna and thrust the food into her hands. “Off with you. Don’t let us down again.”

  Ilanna read disappointment in his face and she reddened. She took the food and hurried from House Hawk. Anticipation twisted her stomach in knots. She stuffed the food into a pocket of her “streets”. Better save it for when I’m really hungry!

  As she navigated the twisting maze of tunnels, she wondered about the change in Denber. She didn’t know what to make of the older boy. He’d been so kind to her in the beginning, taking care of her, teaching her, and making certain she understood each lesson. But on her third day training in the Perch, she’d slipped while climbing the rope ladder. She’d caught herself, though her finger ached for days after.

  Denber had changed that day. His friendly, open manner disappeared. He pushed her harder than even Conn. She preferred his approach to teaching—it had none of Conn’s haughty disdain—but she felt as if it annoyed him. One moment, he would greet her with a smile and a kind word, and cool and aloof the next. Never mean, just gruff or—and this hurt most—distantly polite.

  Elmar stood at the next intersection. The sight of the Fox drove all thoughts of Denber from her mind.

  “Ready, Hawkling?”

  Ilanna nodded.

  Elmar grinned. “Then let’s find you a pocket to pick!”

  * * *

  “Damn it, Hawkling! That’s the third time you’ve turned weasel today and it ain’t even noon yet.”

  “I’m sorry, Elmar. It’s just…” She swallowed. She couldn’t think of a reason why she couldn’t do it. Yet every time she approached her mark, her hands trembled, sweat soaked her palms, and she couldn’t think straight.

  “No excuses, apprentice. Just remember, if you want to eat today, you’d better succeed.”

  Ilanna nodded, swallowing to hold back tears. She hated her fear, her failure, but she just couldn’t force herself to follow through.

  “Come on, Hawkling. Let’s see if we can’t find you an easier mark over on Fortune Teller’s Way. A fat merchant with a heavy purse or a sailor with a bit too much wine in him.”

  Elmar led her through the streets at a slow pace. His instructions remained fixed in her mind. Don’t hurry, but don’t dawdle. Nothing to call attention.

  They cut through a back alley and Ilanna stopped. Four children in filthy grey rags combed through a pile of debris.

  “Oi, Grubbers,” Elmar called, “you seen Kester, Alun, or any of the other Reds?”

  The largest of the four shook his head, but said nothing.

  “Right. Fat lot of help you sods are.”

  Elmar made to leave the alley, but Ilanna gripped his arm.

  The boy with the eyepatch looked so familiar. It has to be!

  “E-Eleven? Is that you?”

  The boy flinched as if struck, but nodded dumbly.

  Ilanna studied his gaunt face. Beneath the tattered rags, his elbows, ribs, and hips protruded from his dirt-stained skin. Sores, cuts, and bruises covered his body. Life as a Grubber hadn’t been kind.

  “A-Are you…?” She trailed off. What is there to say? She hadn’t shared more than a dozen words with the boy during their time as a tyro.

  “Come on, Ilanna.” Elmar took her by the elbow and led her away. “Like I said, apprentice, you don’t want to live as a Grubber. I doubt that lot will survive the winter, the way things have been going for them.”

  She cast one last glance over her shoulder. Eleven stared at her with dull eyes and a listless expression. “What do they do? How do they earn their keep?”

  “Any way they can, really. They beg, sweep streets, cart away horse droppings, even wade through piles of shite to find the odd treasure. They’re the cast-offs of the Night Guild, the ones with skill enough to prove useful, but not quite enough to serve in any of the other Houses.”

  A thought struck her. “But what about the other tyros, those not chosen by the Houses?”

  Elmar paled, his eyes shifting away. “Never mind that, Hawkling. You just keep your mind focused on the task at hand.”

  Ilanna didn’t press the question. The horror in Elmar’s eyes had been answer enough.

  “Well, well, what have we here?”

  Ilanna whirled. Three boys stood at the mouth of the alley, arms folded across their chests. All taller and broader than Elmar, they wore dun-colored Guild clothing, with the red bands of House Bloodbear around their right biceps.

  One—the leader, judging by the way the other two flanked him—swaggered toward them. “A couple of Foxes, out of their den.”

  Elmar’s jaw clenched. “Watt. Ayris. Pendle. What brings you here?”

  The leader smirked. “Just showing our new apprentice the ropes.” He looked over Ilanna’s head. “Isn’t that right, apprentice?”

  A hand seized Ilanna’s shoulder and spun her around. No!

  Twelve grinned down at her, far too close for comfort. “By the Watcher’s beard, if it isn’t little Seven, the girlie who should never have been accepted into the Night Guild.”

  Ilanna’s heart sank and cold dread filled her stomach. No! Not him. She balled her fists. “It’s Ilanna now.” I won’t let him terrify me. Despite her protests, her pulse raced and a trickle of sweat ran down her back.

  “Ooh, testy, isn’t she?” Watt chortled, and his cronies joined in.

  “She always was feisty. Though that didn’t stop me from plowing her face into the mud, did it?” Twelve bared his teeth in a mocking grin.

  Elmar stepped between them. “Back off, apprentice.”

  “Oi, Foxie,” Watt growled. “You telling my lad Sabat what to do?”

  “He’s messing with my apprentice, Watt. She’s got things to do, places to be.”

  Elmar stood a handspan taller than Twelve and broader in the shoulder. Twelve bristled, but backed down.

  Elmar turned to Watt. “We’ll be on our way, if you don’t mind.”

  Watt crossed his arms over his chest. “First, there’s a matter of payment.”

  “Payment?”

  A smug grin spread Watt’s face. “You’re in Fifth Claw territory, Elmar. You pay us protection, and we make sure the other Claws stay out of your turf.”

  Elmar rolled his eyes. “You’ve been paid this month, Watt. You’ll get nothing until next month.”

  “That’s just a few days away, Elmar. Just thought I’d take an advance, that’s all.”

  “Three days, Watt. You’ll get your coins then and not a day sooner.”

  Watt grinned and stepped aside. “Fair enough. Be seeing you around, Elmar.”

  Elmar gripped Ilanna’s elbow a bit too hard. “Come, Ilanna. We’ve got places to be.”

  A voice called after her, “Be seeing you real soon, Seven!”

  Twelve’s—no, Sabat’s—words sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She didn’t need Elmar’s grip on her elbow to convince her to hustle out of the alley. They sprinted through the maze of back streets, only stopping once a few streets separated them from t
he Bloodbears.

  With a glance over his shoulder, Elmar slowed and let out a long breath. “Damn those bastards!”

  Ilanna tried to sound calm, but panic tinged her voice. “What was that about? You owe them money?”

  “All the Houses pay the Bloodbears. They’re the strong-arms of the Night Guild, the protectors. Anyone messes with you, you call in the Bloodbears. But more often than not, you’re just paying for protection against them. You pay so they’ll leave you alone.”

  “How is that fair?”

  “Fair?” Elmar snorted. “Please, Hawkling. This is life on the streets. Fair don’t exist out here. Only those with the brains, brawns, and fingers survive. Anyone else ends up like those poor Grubber bastards, or worse…”

  “How much do you have to pay?”

  “Too much. Nearly a week’s haul per head. The House covers most of it, but Master Fox believes we need to come up with the rest ourselves. Gives us an incentive to be productive, he says.”

  Ilanna pointed to herself. “And I—”

  Elmar nodded. “Need to pay, too. At least for as long as you’re out here on the streets. You Hawks are lucky. The Bloodbears can’t touch you on the roofs. Too slow and heavy to get up there. But if you’re caught down here, they’ll take their tariff however they can—in coin or in blood. And the Fifth Claw, those pricks back there, they’re the meanest of the lot.”

  He rounded on her, eyes flashing. “That’s why I can’t afford for you to cock it up, girlie! You need to pay your own way, so it’s time for you to sack up and lift a Watcher-damned purse already. If you don’t, those Fifth Claw bastards will have a field day with you.”

  Ilanna nodded. “S-So where do we go?”

  Elmar pointed to a large avenue a few hundred paces away. “See that? That’s the border of our territory with the Greys. You cross that line and you’re fair game. They can do with you whatever they want.” He grinned. “If you get caught, that is.”

  “But I thought…Master Velvet said no fighting among the apprentices.”

  Elmar nodded. “Aye, and that’s Guild policy. You have a problem, you settle it with your House Masters. All nice and civil like.” He drew a pair of scuffed and worn brass knuckles from his cloak and slipped them on. “But sometimes a score can’t be settled by the Masters. Sometimes, coin isn’t enough to square up a debt.” He boxed with an imaginary opponent. “That’s when you settle things your own way. Why else do you think you’ve trained with weapons?”

  Ilanna opened her mouth, but snapped it shut. She wanted to say “to protect ourselves”, but that was too naïve to be the truth.

  Elmar slipped the knuckledusters back into his coat. “You keep your head down and your eyes open until you find the right time, then you settle the score the old-fashioned way. But never where you can get caught. You get caught, well…”

  She didn’t need to ask what would happen.

  “But that’s neither here nor there, Hawkling. That’s the boundary and you don’t cross over it, not unless you want a beating. Do not piss in another man’s pot. Got it?”

  Ilanna nodded.

  “It’s us against the world. For the Guild to run, everything has to be kept separate. Everyone sticks to their own turf. Honor among the Houses.”

  The words rang hollow. Ilanna had seen no honor in the eyes of Sabat and his fellow Bloodbears. Honor wouldn’t allow for children like Eleven and the other Grubbers to be treated so poorly. Honor was sorely lacking in the Night Guild.

  “Well then, Hawkling, best we get a move on. No time for dawdling, not when you’ve got a purse to lift. Fortune Teller’s Way’s not far.”

  Ilanna followed in silence, mind racing. She’d thought life would improve once she joined the Hawks. But now she realized the Night Guild was a lot worse than she’d ever imagined. With each new experience came a fresh horror. Could she survive in the Night Guild, or would she break as Eleven and the Grubbers had?

  Try as she might, she couldn’t push the image of Eleven’s gaunt face and lifeless eyes from her mind.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Three days of this, Hawkling!” Elmar’s voice drifted toward her, as if from afar. “You’ve been at this for three Keeper-damned days and you haven’t managed to lift a single purse.”

  “I-I’m sorry, Elmar.” Her voice quavered. Her stomach growled and she sagged on weak knees. She’d had nothing but water for three days.

  “You should be! You’re making me look bad, too. You’ve taken up all my time, so I haven’t had a chance to lift a single copper bit. I have to pay the Bloodbears tomorrow and what do I have to show for it? Nothing! I ought to let you starve, Hawkling. Serves you right for being a coward.”

  “B-But…”

  “But nothing!” Elmar clenched his fists. “What excuse are you going to come up with this time?”

  Ilanna slumped against a wall and sagged to the ground, weak with hunger, too exhausted to cry. She had no excuse. She was a failure, plain and simple.

  He dismissed her with a wave. “Gah! Stay here. I’ve got enough to worry about without you slowing me down.”

  He’s right. I will slow him down. A lump rose in her throat. I’m not good enough to be a thief. Every time she came close to lifting a purse, fear overwhelmed her. How could she expect to thrive as a Hawk if she couldn’t survive on the streets? Third-story work took courage and daring, something she clearly lacked.

  A wave of weakness washed over her. She wanted to give in to the overwhelming urge to lie down and die. It would be so easy—easier than facing the hunger gnawing at her insides.

  Elmar pointed to a pile of rubbish. “See if you can’t scrounge up something to eat. If you aren’t a good Fox, you’ll have to be a Grubber. I’ll be back later to collect you.”

  Elmar’s words stung. She didn’t want to end up like Eleven—mind dulled and body weakened by exhaustion and hunger.

  A faint voice whispered in her mind. “Stand tall, my flower, no matter what.”

  The words—forgotten, yet so familiar—sent determination surging through her. I…I have to…do something, anything. But what? How could she prove herself good enough to be a Fox? To be a Hawk?

  She struggled to her feet and stumbled forward. She took two steps before her legs gave out and she landed in the muck of the street with a wet splash. She was too weak to move, too weak to roll over. She drifted in a haze of fatigue and starvation, hovering on the edge of consciousness. The world blurred around her and darkness filled her vision.

  Let it be over. She couldn’t fight the urge any longer. Please, let it be over. At least she wouldn’t have to fail again, wouldn’t have to see the disappointed expression on Elmar’s face, or on Denber’s. It could all slip away in a numb haze. Death meant escape from the Night Guild. It meant peace.

  A soft voice reached her from afar. “Oh, Arnull, look at the poor thing!”

  Hands lifted her from the muck and turned her over. Ilanna pushed back the smothering hunger and forced her eyes open. A woman hovered over her, lines of concern written on her face.

  “Oh, you poor dear.”

  “Leave her, Daria,” a man snapped. “She’s just another street rat. She doesn’t deserve your—”

  The woman, Daria, ignored him. “Hush, Arnull. She’s just a girl. And so small.”

  “Please,” Ilanna croaked. “Food…”

  Daria motioned to her husband. “Arnull, pass me one of those apples.” She pressed a bright red apple into Ilanna’s hand.

  Ilanna sank her teeth into the fruit, ignoring the mud and filth on her fingers. She’d never tasted anything so delicious in her life. Sweet and sour melted in a symphony of flavor. The apple crunched in her teeth and juice dripped down her face. Swallowing proved difficult, but she took another huge bite.

  Daria extended a pastry to her. “There you are, girl. Eat up and have a bite of this.”

  Ilanna seized the offered treat. Soft, flaky dough melted in her mouth, giving way to the vibrant flav
ors of honey, cinnamon, and raisins, accented by a salty cream frosting. It was as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She devoured the pastry in a matter of seconds.

  “You’ve done quite enough for the waif, Daria.” The man’s lip curled and he glared down his nose. “Can’t we be on our way?”

  Daria shook her head. “You know what the priests say, Arnull. The Apprentice always rewards those who take pity on the weak.”

  Arnull rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear, and I’m certain the money I give those Coin Counters every month is more than enough to heap the Apprentice’s favor on our heads. Now, can we please leave before someone sees?”

  Daria huffed. “Very well, Arnull.” She reached down and took Ilanna by the shoulders. “Come dear, let me help you up.”

  Ilanna grasped the woman’s bodice and pulled herself to her feet. “Th-Thank you…” She wobbled and clung to the woman for a moment, but righted herself. Her eyes caught a slight bulge at the woman’s hip.

  Now is my chance! Instinct kicked in. Her hand slipped inside the woman’s clothing, reaching for the pocket sewn into her cloak. She pretended to sag to hide her movements. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, she tugged the purse free.

  Daria held her upright. “Run along home, dear. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

  “Y-Yes, my lady.” Ilanna bowed, hugging her hands—and the purse—close to her chest. “Th-Thank you.”

  A beatific smile dimpled the woman’s cheeks. “May the Apprentice smile on you.”

  Ilanna stumbled away. Coins clinked in the small purse—enough, she hoped, to earn a meal tonight. I…I did it! She’d proven herself skilled enough to be a Fox. Elmar would approve. She hoped Denber would, too.

  Her stomach still growled and her legs trembled, but she felt her strength returning. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she caught one last glimpse of the woman and her husband disappearing into the crowd.

  Guilt stabbed at her conscience. Why did I steal from her? She was kind to me. To me! The woman had given, expecting nothing in return.

  Ilanna pushed the feeling of remorse away and replaced it with another: determination. She would do what she had to, no matter what. It was the only way to survive in the Night Guild.