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

by Andy Peloquin

  * * *

  Elmar cast another glance over his shoulder. In the two days since she’d lifted her first purse, his nervousness had worsened.

  “Elmar, what are you looking for?”

  The Fox’s eyes darted around. “Nothing.” A dog barked, and he half-jumped, muttering a sullen curse.

  “Come on, Elmar. You’ve been doing that all morning.”

  Elmar shaded his eyes in the bright noonday sun. “Leave it alone, Hawkling.”

  Ilanna had never seen the boy so nervous. Not even when he ran into a patrol of the Praamian Guard with a half-dozen filched purses in his hands.

  She rested a hand on his arm. “Tell me what it is, Elmar. Maybe I can help.”

  “You want to help?” Elmar whirled on her, eyes blazing. “Maybe next time you’ll actually do what I tell you instead of wasting my time.”

  Ilanna recoiled. “I-I don’t…”

  “I didn’t have enough to pay them, Hawkling. Don’t you get it? Thanks to you, I owe the Fifth Claw. If they catch me without what I owe them—and a little something extra for the late payment—they’re going to take it any way they can. You know what that means, don’t you? They’ll take it out on you, too. You owe them as well.”

  Ilanna nodded, eyes widening. “I-I’m sorry, Elmar. I—”

  “There’s no sorry in the Night Guild, Hawkling!” He clenched his fists, and Ilanna took a step backward. “You’ve barely lifted enough in the last two days to pay your way back into the Guild for a hot meal and a warm bed, much less cover your debt to the Bloodbears. All of the others had just enough, but no coins to spare. Not me, oh no! Not Elmar, the poor dumb idiot saddled with the useless girl.”

  Ilanna’s face burned. She stared up into Elmar’s red face and fiery eyes, her fear mixed with anger and shame.

  He thrust a finger into her chest. “I’ve had enough of you! I’m done holding your hand and treating you like a princess. You’ll make your way just like every other Fox or I’ll send you to the Grubbers. D’you hear?”

  Ilanna nodded, her jaw clenched. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good! Now go get me a purse or I’ll beat you myself. Spare the damned Bloodbears the work!”

  Heart thundering, Ilanna turned and dashed away before Elmar followed through on the threat.

  Elmar called after her. “Don’t you come back without it!”

  Ilanna ran through one twisted alleyway after another. She couldn’t fail, not now, not when so much hung in the balance. She had to steer clear of the Fifth Claw, at least long enough to lift a few purses and gather enough coin to pay her debt.

  She didn’t slow until she neared Fortune Teller’s Way and slipped into the press of people. At high noon, the market bustled with pedestrians, laden carts, and the horse-drawn carriages of wealthier Praamians. Perhaps she could find a mark with a heavy purse. With enough coin, Elmar could pay off the Bloodbears and they would leave her alone.

  I have to try!

  Climbing atop a pile of crates, she studied the crowd. A coterie of rich-robed men and women strolled through the market, but the black-clad guards surrounding them would make it impossible to get close enough. Perhaps the merchant with the heavy paunch and bristling beard would do. No, his eyes never stopped moving. He was far too wary to be an easy target.

  There! The man wore fine robes, but not so elaborate that they screamed wealth. Simple, sturdy boots made for walking, a wide sash, and a stylish hat completed his outfit. Rich enough to afford fashion, dumb enough to parade it before the light-fingered denizens of the marketplace. The perfect mark.

  Ilanna slithered through the crowd. Her small frame fit through the gaps between passing carts, ambling pedestrians, and market stalls. Her dull Fox clothing blended with the dust and dirt of the marketplace.

  She remembered everything Master Velvet, Elmar, and Idan had taught her about lifting purses. Approach the target from an angle, out of their line of sight. Head down, eyes on the mark. She forced herself to remain calm. Every heartbeat brought her closer. A slow, steady pace would get her within easy reach of the mark—and his purse—undetected.

  The slight bulge in the man’s robe revealed the location of the fitchet, but it would be difficult to get at. She would have to reach half her arm into his cloak to grasp the purse. Her heart sank, but she didn’t turn away. She had committed to the mark and would follow through. Her fingerknife slipped onto her hand with practiced ease.

  Her hands trembled with nervous excitement, but not as much as they had on her first day. She clenched her fists to steady her nerves. I can do it!

  She barely made contact with the man, but enough for her to dip for the purse. The knife sliced the strings with ease. She gripped the purse between two fingers and gave a smooth tug. The movement was perfect. The purse didn’t even jingle as she lifted it, hugged it to her chest, and slipped quietly away.

  Don’t run, she repeated in her mind. Slow and steady. Have to avoid—

  The shout echoing in the marketplace turned her blood to ice. “Thief!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ilanna’s heart stopped. She risked a glance over her shoulder and immediately knew it had been a mistake.

  The richly dressed man’s eyes locked onto her and he stabbed a finger toward her. “Thief!”

  Ilanna ducked her head and tried to move quickly without appearing to hurry. The cry of “Thief!” continued until the unmistakable clatter of armored guards sounded behind her.

  “Where’s the thief?”

  “She’s…she’s…”

  Ilanna fixed her eyes on the floor and increased her pace. Don’t look back. Don’t be out of place. Her clothes would blend in with the—

  A flour-stained hand clamped on her wrist. “I’ve got her, sir! I’ve got the thief! Over here!”

  Ilanna tugged, but the baker’s grip held fast. A punch to his soft midsection elicited nothing but a slap to her face. Ilanna sagged, her head ringing.

  A trio of guardsmen clad in drab olive green rushed toward them, burnished steel armor clanking. “Step aside, now! Praamian Guard, out of the way!”

  No! She couldn’t let the guard see her, much less arrest her. They’d take her hands as punishment for theft and she’d never climb the Aerie again.

  She kicked the baker’s leg as hard as she could. The man yelped and clutched his shin. His grip on her arm loosened. Ilanna ripped her hand free and took off, sprinting through the streets as fast as her short legs could carry her.

  The baker cried out behind her. “She went that way!”

  She cursed the baker and tried to run faster. I’m not going to make it! The sound of booted feet drew closer with every heartbeat. What hope had she—a small girl—of outrunning the Praamian Guard?

  The purse in her hand jingled merrily. There had to be enough to save herself and Elmar from the wrath of the Bloodbears. She could return to training in House Hawk for a few days before the coins ran out. The stolen purse meant escape from the streets.

  But not if the Praamian Guard captured her. She had only one way out. Without looking, she hurled the purse behind her.

  That should distract the guards! They have to want the purse more than me, right?

  Not daring to check, Ilanna ducked into a narrow alleyway. Her shoes splashed in muck and refuse soiled her clothing. She didn’t care. She only cared about escaping the Praamian Guard. Elmar and Idan had shown her the pathways through Red Fox turf, but panic drove them from her mind. She ran until her legs burned and she gasped for breath. And still she ran.

  She had one thought: don’t let them find you!

  Her foot struck something solid and she sprawled in the muck. Her mouth filled with the foul ooze and her head cracked against the floor. Shaking off the pain, she stumbled to her feet. Head spinning, Ilanna staggered toward a stack of crates and threw herself against the wall. Her pulse thundered, fire filling her lungs. For long moments, she sat in a crumpled heap, gasping for breath, terror twisting her stomach. />
  She strained to hear any sign of pursuit—clattering armor, pounding boots, the shouts of the Praamian Guard. Silence met her ears.

  I did it! Ragged, sobbing laughter burst from her chest. I escaped! I’m free.

  “Well, well. Looks like nameday has come early.”

  Ilanna whirled with a gasp of surprise and fear. Her momentary elation died. A trio of boys strode toward her, Sabat in the lead. His smug expression twisted her stomach in knots.

  “Just…leave…me…alone,” Ilanna panted. She stood on unsteady legs, holding out a hand to support herself on the wall.

  The two older Bloodbears folded their arms across their chests and leaned against the alley wall. Sabat leered. “Why would we do that, girlie? Seems to me like you owe us Fifth Claws a bit of scratch.”

  “I have your…” She trailed off, realizing her hands were empty. She’d discarded the purse in her flight. “I will have your coin in—”

  “This ain’t the first time I’ve heard that, girl. Everyone thinks they’re special, like they deserve a break.” Sabat spat to one side and cracked his knuckles. “Once we’re done with you, you’ll be much quicker to pay up on time.” He advanced on her with a smirk.

  Ilanna’s heart drummed a panicked beat. Her eyes darted around, but she saw no way of escape. Sabat stood between her and freedom. With the wall at her side, the other Bloodbears ahead, and the stack of crates at her back, she was trapped.

  “You thought you’d get away from me once you left the Menagerie, girl.” Sabat’s voice dripped venom. “There’s no Master Velvet to stop me now.”

  Ilanna glanced at the two Bloodbears, her eyes pleading. They can’t let this happen!

  He barked a laugh. “They won’t save you. They don’t care what I do to you. The only thing they care about is what you owe us. How we get it from you don’t matter.”

  Ilanna shrank back, pressing her body flat against the wall. Sabat towered over her, his breath hot on her face, his reek of sweat and filth filling her nostrils.

  He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper. “I owe you this, girlie. You escaped once, but not this time.” He raised a fist to strike.

  Instinct took over and Ilanna’s hand darted to the hidden sheath at her back. Her fingers closed around the hilt of her knife. Before she realized, she’d drawn the blade and lashed out.

  Sabat fell back with a cry, clutching his face. Blood seeped between his fingers. He gaped at her in surprise and pain.

  Ilanna stared back, in shock. Crimson stained the bright edge of her little blade. She’d slashed him with the knife, and it had pushed him back. She’d practiced the strike on the straw dummies a thousand times, but never on a real person. Until now. She tightened her grip on the knife.

  Sabat’s expression changed from pain to twisted fury. “You little whore!” He lurched at her, arms spread wide.

  She ducked under his arms. Her knife darted toward his leg—just as Ten had showed her. The blade parted flesh and muscle with ease, and she pushed it to its hilt in his meaty thigh.

  Sabat howled again, a note of fear tinging his wail. Ilanna wrenched her knife free and darted off without a backward glance. She’d read murder in Sabat’s eyes. She had to escape the Bloodbears, and now.

  “Get her!” Sabat’s cry echoed in the alley. “What are you waiting for?”

  Boots splashed in mud as the Bloodbears gave chase. Ilanna sprinted toward the mouth of the alley, across the street, and down another side avenue. She couldn’t remember anything Elmar had taught her about escape routes. She only knew she had to outrun the Bloodbears.

  Agile from months of training in the Aerie, Ilanna pounded through the back streets and alleys. She didn’t dare look back. She darted into a crowded avenue. A barrow wheeled into the road ahead of her and she hurdled it, scattering produce. She spied a bustling marketplace. Perfect! It would be easy to get lost in the mass of people and slip out a side street.

  Something about the market felt familiar. Perhaps it was the bright colors of the shops and stalls, the sound of vendors crying their wares, or the mixture of smells that brought back faint memories. Had she come here? Never with Elmar. Perhaps before…

  Slipping between the stalls, Ilanna risked a backward glance. Her heart sank as she caught sight of the two Bloodbears entering the market. She ducked behind a stack of boxes, mind racing. Where can I go now?

  A side street beckoned to her. Had she come here before? She didn’t remember it, but somehow she knew where it led. Without hesitation, she raced down the street, feet flying over the cobblestones.

  “There she is!” The shout echoed over the din of the marketplace.

  Ilanna ran hard, letting her feet choose the route. They seemed to know their way, though she hardly recognized this place.

  A nearby wall caught her attention. She raced toward it and leapt as high as she could. With strength born of her training—and a generous helping of fear—she hauled herself over. She landed with a splash in a small rivulet of water. Ignoring the mud, she huddled as close to the wall as she could.

  They can’t find me here! I just need to stay quiet and out of sight.

  Minutes stretched into what seemed an eternity. She listened for sounds of pursuit, but none came. She huddled against the wall, not daring to move.

  A familiar fragrance drifted toward her. Her eyes lighted on a small patch of purple and yellow flowers. Something about them seemed so…

  Violas. They’re called Violas. But how did she know that? Memories washed over her. She remembered kneeling in the dirt, digging for weeds with—

  The memory washed over her like a flood.

  The noonday sun shone bright, filling the garden with warmth and color. The smell of roses, lilies, and violas drifted on the cool breeze.

  “Imagine that there is a perfectly straight line drawn on the floor, Viola.” The angel—no, not an angel, Mama—stood behind her, hands on her shoulders for support. “Throughout this dance, your feet will never leave that line.”

  “So I just dance forward and backward?” Viola grinned. After so many days, it was wonderful to have time with Mama again.

  Mama held her tight, helping her balance. “We will start simple, my flower. First, place your feet like I taught you.”

  “Like this?” Viola craned her neck to look back. She always felt safe with Mama around. The memories of the angry men faded beneath Mama’s smile.

  “Very good, Viola. But keep your face forward! Bend your knees a little, lift your head, shoulders back, and hold your arms out. See how it helps you to keep your balance?”

  Viola wobbled and would have fallen, but for Mama’s firm grip on her arms. “This is hard, Mama.”

  “I know, my flower. I said the same thing when my mother taught it to me. But you know what she would say? She’d tell me, ‘Anything that is truly great does not come easily’.” Mama turned Viola’s head to face forward. “Now, find an object in the near distance, something for you to focus on.”

  “Like my flowers, Mama?”

  “Perfect! Ignore everything else in the garden and look only there. Keep your eyes fixed on the yellow and purple, lift your foot high, and step. And step. And step.”

  Viola laughed. “I’m doing it!” The movement felt unnatural, but Mama’s hands on her shoulders kept her moving. She bit her lip in concentration.

  “You are, my flower. You’re doing wonderfully! Keep your arms out, Viola. Don’t let them—”

  Viola’s foot struck a stone and twisted beneath her. She cried out, landing hard on her knees.

  “There, there, Viola.” Mama helped her up. “Now you know why we’re practicing here in the garden and not in the front room.”

  Viola’s lip quivered, but she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I thought you just liked the smell of the flowers, Mama.”

  “I do, my sweet. It does me good to come out here, get some fresh air after too many hours darning and mending.”

  “I could help you, Mama.
”

  Mama gave her a sad smile. “I know you wish you could, but your little fingers aren’t yet strong enough to push the needle. Your time will come soon enough.”

  “Liora!” Papa’s voice came from inside the house. He sounded angry.

  “We’re in the garden, Girard!” Mama turned to Viola. “I need to prepare something for your father to eat, but I’ll be back in a few moments. Keep practicing. Do you remember how to stand?”

  “Knees bent, head up, shoulders back, arms out like this, and focus on the violas.”

  “Stand tall, my flower, no matter what. Always keep your head up. One day, you will be the greatest dancer Praamis has ever seen.”

  The scene changed.

  The bright sun hid its face behind gloomy clouds and the breeze held a biting chill. Mama’s garden stood in shambles, dying.

  She fingered a shriveled leaf. The roses and lilies should have flourished. They always bloomed for Mama in the summer time. Yet the bushes had withered and shrunk, the leaves turned brown, the flowers shriveled, and thorns sprang up. She filled her cupped hands from their creek and poured water over the flower. She had a few minutes between mending tunics; the little patch of purple and yellow flowers needed her attention. She pulled weeds, cleared away dead leaves, and piled the soil high around the shrub.

  Wiping dirt from her hands, Viola sat beside Mama’s dying lily bush. “Hi, Mama, it’s me again. Your Viola.”

  She felt silly talking to Mama, but it made her feel a little less sad and afraid.

  “I miss you a lot, you know. You’ve only been gone for a few weeks, but I wish I could see you again.”

  Careful not to get soil in her eyes, she scrubbed her cheeks with her forearm.

  “I miss baby Rose, too. I had so much fun holding her. It made me feel like I finally had a doll. Not one made out of straw and yarn, but a real one with cloth and porcelain. Like Master Umlai has in his shop, down in the market.”

  She turned her attention to the weeds around the lilies.

  “I know you didn’t want me going to the Old Town Market, but I have to. I wish we could go together again. You and me and baby Rose.” Tears flowed anew and she sniffed. “Papa isn’t here right now. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I’m glad, though. It’s easier this way. At least I know he won’t be angry at me for what I did to you.”