Dead Man's Hand_The Knights of the Golden Dragon_Book 2

by Troy Reaves

  “It would pain me to lose it, but this is why we play, I think. Not so much for the potential of the winnings but for the risk of the loss. Flip your card and let us be done here.” When the dealer flipped the King, Boremac appeared to be in trouble. The only way to win was to draw with a Queen, forcing a one card tie breaker, or flip Death for the win. He was beginning to think he should have checked his hidden card, still face down on the table. Boremac leaned forward enough to flip the card in front of him neatly up across the other. The careless turn of the card as he laid it down revealed no apprehension to the young man across from him. Boremac let the stranger’s reaction tell him his fate. He liked surprises, especially when he was watching the shock dawn on other’s faces. “Interesting.” He said. “Death turns up in the oddest places and when you least expect it. This should keep me flush for a bit.”

  Boremac took his time filling his coin pouches. He wanted to make sure the prince of thieves understood that he could be undone away from home as easily as any other mark. Not to mention, the young man really needed an attitude adjustment. Rinoba, despite his efforts which were minimal at best, could not hide who he was. Arrogance was a terrible curse.

  The words that sprang forth from the loser made almost as much an impression as the dagger he slammed into the table. “You cheated!” It was enough to clear the remaining other players from the table as well as the area nearby, because this scene had played out often enough in the tavern. It never ended well. Boremac had spent enough time here in the past while that the locals had assumed two things about him: he played straight in his game of choice, often losing more than he won, and calling him out never ended well for the accusers. Although he had not killed anyone, he had come close enough to make it known that implicating him was a bad idea.

  Boremac’s response was so quick and fluid, in word and action that the tavern patrons as a whole stared. The barkeep stopped wiping down the counter and became very still. “You want to accept the loss. If you touch that blade, I will cut your throat neatly enough that you will bleed out into the pitcher. No need to upset the owner with a mess. I am going to assume you understand and will get out of here quickly. Let me help you out of your chair.” His words were just a whisper. Everyone saw the prince hit the floor as his chair flew backward, seemingly of its own volition. Some even noted the trickle of blood when the young man got up and made for the door. Only Boremac knew for certain why he was bleeding from the pinpoint stick his dagger had left. Boremac went back to gathering his winnings before proceeding to the bar. “Sorry for the mess, Olaf. This should cover any damages.” Boremac dropped one of the coin bags on the bar at the mountain man’s feet. “Fill the house’s drinks on me as well. The ruby should cover that in addition to a new boar head. Please get one befitting your fine establishment. That flea ridden thing has to go. Come to think of it, so should I before my luck runs dry.”

  Boremac found his quarry close by as expected. The prince of thieves thought he was well hidden among a small copse of trees near the inn. He was wrong, but Boremac did not mind playing along a bit more. “Might as well teach the fool another lesson as long as he keeps insisting on walking into walls. Almost feel bad for him... almost. This time it’s going to hurt.” Boremac let a slight smile touch his lips as he walked past the spot the prince had chosen to hide. He was impressed by the enthusiasm with which the ‘ambush’ was launched even as he drove his fist into his attacker’s forehead using the prince’s own dagger’s pommel. That was going to leave a mark. Boremac had been planning on returning the dagger to the prince anyway and one way was as good as another. Boremac casually dropped the dagger on the prince’s feet as he lay on the ground. “Well done. No really. Had I been a blind man, you would have maybe knocked me over, assuming I was leaning heavily on a walking stick on the opposite side of your attack.” Boremac prodded the downed prince with his foot for a few moments then, noting the shallow rise of his chest, stepped on him. The weight of his boot brought a groan as the prince’s eyes popped open. “Good. You are conscious. Just listen. Not much good for much else at present anyway. You should probably get some rest, perhaps some raw meat for that eye, and follow me in a while. I am going to be back at Alchendia’s Path for two days. If luck is with you, prince, you will find me there before I leave. The trials start soon and you do not want to appear as inept as you do now when they come. I hope you fail because from what I have seen you will not survive traveling with me, much less learning from me.” Boremac bent his knee to bring his eyes more in line with the pinned prince’s before continuing. “You should give me the King up your sleeve now. If there is a mark on the card from your careless sleight of hand, any hope of gaining your fortune with me ends now.” He punctuated his point by drawing his personal dagger and thumping the spot where the prince had been struck with its pommel. The prince earned a small amount of Boremac’s respect when he drew the card from his sleeve. The card showed no hint of abuse.

  17

  Shadowy Paths

  .

  Boremac had entered Alchendia’s Path to become an initiate not long after his last encounter with Rinoba. He had decided that, rather than risk another morning surprise visit, it would be best to meet the Prince of Thieves face to face on equal ground. Boremac preferred potential threats in front of him when he had his eyes open to the impromptu visit Sgaina had performed. That visit had exposed his vulnerability trusting in the sanctity of even a better class inn’s security, namely there was none. His own adventures, securing trinkets and coin of the merchants passing through Travelflor, had taught him as much but he had gotten lazy.

  Alchendia’s Path made its headquarters at the heart of the Thieves quarter. Rogues and mercenaries that were not members of the guild paid for ‘passage’ while within the walls of Travelflor or found themselves rounded up quickly if they attempted to practice their trade in the city. It was said that Alchendia’s Path had eyes in every section of the city, every shadowy corner, and this was not so far from the truth. Stories of enchanted mice that reported unsanctioned thievery in the Merchants quarter were whispered but quickly discarded as highly unlikely. Boremac would have agreed if he did not know Rat. No city watchers, or even the groups of standing militia, ever came within blocks of the place. They came to the taverns for gambling and visiting the ladies of easy virtue but figured causing trouble for the other patrons in the area was not wise. It was well known that thieves of all class were generally either jailed or, depending on the victim they had affronted when caught, hung. One thing to be said for Travelflor, at least where thieves were concerned, was that they were not overly barbaric. It was rumored that the governor felt having such an influential guild in the city was a blessing. It probably made justifying the bloated city watch that much easier. Of course, there were also rumors that he was paid off.

  Boremac’s welcome when approaching the doors of Alchendia’s Path was unexpected. As a child of the streets in the Thieves quarter, he had learned to respect and fear the two wrought iron doors that served as the entry into the small mansion headquarters. The front of the building itself was well kept, especially noticeable compared to the other buildings varying degrees of disrepair in the vicinity, maintaining the former glory it once had with only weathered markings marring it. Glowing light, filtered through glazed panes, filtered through the many windows of the first and second floors of the front. The topmost floor, Boremac noted, had a large bay window. This particular one was clear, allowing the low light flickering behind it to reveal at least two shadows constantly in motion. He looked away quickly, not wanting to call attention to his inspection, certain that the shadowy figures were keen eyed guards.

  Boremac recognized the two brutes at either side of the entryway itself readily enough. They were both enforcers, no less giant now than when he was a youth who had been carried away from the area in the past, carrying the metal cudgels that were the tools of their position. When the one to the left of the doors spoke, Boremac’s heart clenched re
flexively. “So you made it. Fresh meat for the grinder after you were doing so well not to be snatched up off the streets.” The guard at the right laughed roughly at this before his partner continued. “Do not tremble like a frightened pup, Boremac. We have been expecting you. We do not have any need to drag you away over the cobblestones this time. Good on you for the favor Alchendia gives.” Boremac stepped back a bit before he could restrain himself. “Hold the favor, Boremac. We know you by the blades the Second has given you. Blessed you must be to still have them. You will be giving your token to the Master. Go on in.”

  The other guard chimed in now. “Down the hall to the second door on the right. Knock twice.” The two brutes grabbed the handles of their doors, pulling more lightly than Boremac would have thought necessary, to reveal a well-lit entryway. He proceeded as instructed, overwhelmed that the King of Thieves himself saw need to welcome him. Boremac found his self-important assumption dismissed once the door he had been sent to was opened. Before him stood a slight young woman, easily a head shorter than he, with cropped dark hair and eyes that seemed to draw in the flickering torch light from the hall. She took the briefest measure of him before turning away and walking back into the room without a word. Boremac noted a rather large wooden table with papers neatly stacked in it and a tattered feather quill sticking out of an inkwell. The woman sat at the side of the table nearest the wall and looked at him. Her thin lips drooped and her eyes narrowed. “Come in and close the door, Boremac. You disappoint me already. Sit at let me see just how much work has been laid at my feet. Stupid street urchin. Did you expect our Master to welcome you to the guild himself, or perhaps Alchendia would bless you with an avatar for your induction?” She shook her head briefly. “You street thieves have a bit of luck working outside the guild wearing on our patience and, more often than not outliving your usefulness, paying no more attention to the Unspoken Law than the babes picking pockets in the merchant quarter. Now you come here thinking you are special.”

  Boremac stalked into the room, grabbing the back of the chair across from his ‘Master’ and venomously calling her out. “Who are you?”

  Boremac never saw her slide from behind the desk. He registered the weight on his chest quickly enough, the pounding brought from striking his head first on the chair he had gripped and then on the stone floor also let him know he was still conscious, though his vision had blurred. Her words sounded like the voice the blades he felt against his neck might have if they could speak. “I am Shadow. You are my charge. You would do well do remember that. Now would you rather get into the chair or have your head cut off? Should not require much thought, even for you. Your vision will clear momentarily.”

  Boremac sat up, taking a moment to recover from the assault and bemoaning his aching skull, while his vision returned. He managed to take a seat without looking any more foolish than he had already. He brought his gaze even with her own, hardening his eyes but not quite challenging her. “What happens now?”

  “First I suggest you take this rag and wipe my special mixture off your face. You look like a raccoon.” Shadow handed him a wet rag. There was the first hint of a smile fighting its way onto her face before she continued. “Second I am going to review your life with you so you can fill in any blanks in the information Alchendia’s Path has gathered. We have much to protect here and cannot allow just anyone into the guild.” Boremac was curious at first but this turned to dismay rather quickly. The small stack of pages that the guild had accrued concerning him took only a few minutes to review. There were not even any holes to fill in. Boremac thought he was quite accomplished as a rogue, right until that moment.

  Time passed quickly after that meeting with his Master. Shadow was a brutal trainer, allowing him no idle rest except to sleep which he did much like the dead. Boremac noted he seemed to command a certain amount of respect from both the fellow initiates and the old hands, most who were now primarily guards of the guild house itself. Boremac was at a loss to discern the favor he was shown but was glad for the attention, despite Shadow’s constant abuses. Her lessons were learned well, and quickly, as much due to Boremac’s desire to please her as his wish to avoid her wrath. He was sadly utterly incapable of wielding anything longer than a short dagger, his preferred weapon which he dual wielded with the grace of a dancer, and even Shadow gave up on his sword training.

  His true skill shown even more concerning all manner of the short blades with his throwing dagger practice. Boremac took great pleasure from eventually being able to bury two at a time into the specially padded suit Shadow herself wore finally to test him. He had wearied the other moving targets she challenged him with to the point of exhaustion so much so that the group of initiates united under one leader to protest. That they were moved to challenge Shadow sent nods and whispers of knowing respect through the guild halls for both the leader of the group and Boremac himself.

  Rinoba was already well known for possessing cunning and guile beyond his meager age that was held in check by his lack of patience. It went without saying, and no one said it when Shadow was around, that the courage of the challenger to her authority was either very brave or extraordinarily stupid. Shadow knew that both were true of the individual in question. She also knew that giving this bit of glory to the Prince of thieves would not take anything from her rank, or the respect she inspired, and the Prince of the guild needed all the help he could get. Rinoba was her charge due to the request of her King and she treated him even more harshly than Boremac. Anything less would have been completely unacceptable and she trained only the best, at least they were the best when they graduated from her brutal tutelage. She rarely taught young men, preferring the natural aptitude of the few young ladies that the guild accepted. Flora and Fauna had been perfect examples. Each had complimentary specializations. Each had understood the need to not only enhance these specializations but master one another’s preferred areas of expertise. Words in private with Flora had swayed her decision not to pass over Boremac. Flora had felt he was a gem in the rough, only in need of the proper cuts to rival Shadow’s own prowess.

  Shadow had laughed openly at this at the time but Boremac’s progress, although stunted in some areas, was quite amazing when working with his honed areas. His dexterity was remarkable to say the least, commanding the respect of all those who dueled with him or were foolish enough to face him in Dead Man. He had earned a small fortune conning fellow cons in the card games with his sleight of hand and fearlessness in the face of overwhelming betting. She had played him a few times, winning soundly every time while noting his patterns, but even this did not lessen her respect for his cunning and quick hands. He had tried to hold cards in their games, testing her, but a look was all it had taken for him to bring the card just as carefully into play. He always took significant losses after these attempts, as if he were apologizing to her.

  18

  Thieves’ Honor

  The time of the guild’s Choosing came and Shadow felt her students were well ready for the test. The Choosing was when initiates were allowed to show their skills and demonstrate a right to be leaders among the gangs within the guild itself. Shadow was pleased, although not surprised, when Rinoba demanded to have Boremac as his partner. The Charter allowed for teams to be created for the Choosing as long as there was a defined leader accepted by the whole team. The street press teams usually fought one another for the honor to lead a team as large as four for weeks before the Choosing, beating one another in outright brawls until one dominated the others. Sneakers were soloists, seeking to make their names with the information they could steal, or overhear, for selling influence or maintaining Alchendia’s Path’s hold over the politic proper of the city. Pickpockets and burglars were simply required to enrich the coffers of the Guild and had the lightest requirements for the Choosing. The Guild also offered the least amount of protection for these individuals but their tribute was markedly lower because of the risks of their trade. Many of these individuals sacrificed themselv
es to the prison for being careless but those that did not retired into safer occupations much younger than the rest. A merchant with strong ties to the Guild fared much better than one without, even when these men and women relocated to other cities. Alchendia’s Path issued business charters to these thieves that were presented to the local thieves’ guild, assuring that tribute would still be paid to Alchendia’s Path and they would not be troubled by the locals. The extensive network of spies the Guild maintained made certain of that.

  Boremac and Rinoba had their first official meeting over a game of Dead Man. Rinoba and Boremac had cleared the other rogues from the table quickly in the common room where the initiates mixed with veterans of the Guild to take meals, abuse the good names of their masters and lose coin to one another playing all manner of games from dice to ale drinking. The two young men fleeced the other players soundly until they were the last at the table, notably even in the size of the piles of winnings before them. Rinoba chose to announce his claiming of Boremac for his team at this time. Boremac was less than pleased. He doubted Rinoba intended to climb walls to prove himself. Boremac had intended to take the path of his father within the Guild so long ago, had even practiced with his father’s climbing tools to the point of exhaustion after working with Shadow, no small feat. He knew this was common knowledge within the Guild but he had no way of knowing that this was exactly why Rinoba wanted him.