The Burning City (The Guildmaster Thief Book 2)

by Jake Kerr

  From that point on, Maela experimented with different angles and grips. The grip was easy--it wasn't much different than the grip she used when she hurled the knife overhanded. But the angle turned out to be interesting. She could toss the knife with the most force directly from the side, but she could throw it with the most accuracy from a true underhanded angle.

  She had no illusions--she was not very good at tossing knives, but she had learned the lesson. She was able to effectively toss a knife. The only angle closed to her was overhanded. "Keep going," Darla said with a smile.

  After hitting the tree three times in a row, Maela turned and looked at Darla. "I could kiss you."

  Darla smiled. "Then you should."

  After a long kiss, Maela handed the knives to Darla. "Your turn."

  With frightening force and deadly accuracy, Darla hit the center of the target three times, the knives touching each other while embedded in the tree. "It's my thing," Darla said with a smirk.

  Several weeks later, Maela looked at Darla as she was rolling dough on a wooden board covered in flour. They had both silently been training without admitting why. Maela had no sword but practiced with an axe that was left behind to chop wood. Darla would awaken and wander out and watch as Maela swung the axe around, practicing attacks of various angles and parries with the handle.

  Darla had also spent hours every day building her strength. She was a true warrior, and Maela realized that after their ordeal in the mountain and Darla's desire to recover with Maela afterward, that Maela had badly underestimated Darla's willpower and abilities. It embarrassed her. She had told Darla in the cell when they met that Darla had to have been better than the men to be a female guard, and it was clearly true, but Maela had forgotten or dismissed it. Yet it was clear--Darla was formidable.

  And there she was, day after day, muscles rippling as she lifted heavy logs and tossed them across the lawn. In between she would toss countless knives at the tree. Maela couldn't remember seeing a single knife miss the tree, and nearly all clicked against each other as they embedded in the center. The entire time she did it without any words to Maela of her intent. She just trained.

  Maela did the same, but it was clear what her goal was--the destroy the guardian that stood down the lane. Their freedom was Maela's only immediate goal. As to Darla, Maela felt that she was training to help or to become strong enough to save Maela if things went poorly. So she was surprised as she walked over to help Darla cook, and her partner put the rolling pin down and said, "So I am confident we can defeat any foe together, but I fear I know not how to battle an invisible opponent."

  The comment surprised Maela and filled her with emotion. Darla wants to escape with me. "I think I love you," Maela said, looking Darla in the eyes.

  "Sure, we share a bed and clean the dishes together. We prepare food and take walks together, but it isn't until I discuss battling an invisible guardian that you love me!" Darla said the words in a teasing manner and with a smile. They had never said that they loved each other, but they had recently come to say "I think I love you" whenever the one did something kind to the other.

  "I didn't say I love you," Maela replied with a wicked smile.

  "Oh yes. I guess I have to kill the invisible guardian to earn that."

  "It wouldn't hurt," Maela said with a laugh.

  In reply Darla picked up some flour and tossed it at Maela. Maela instinctively lifted her hand and as it flew through the air, it left a trail through the dusty flour that revealed Maela's face. Darla's hand through to her mouth, and she said, "By the gods!"

  Maela, looking concerned, said, "What is it? Are you okay?"

  Darla lowered her hand, uncovering a huge smile. "I just realized how you defeat an invisible creature."

  34

  Executioners Hollow

  Rogers had been through a lot of sewers as a Thief Captain. They were never used by other guild members beyond the maintenance sub-guilds, and those were all Thief members, as well. The underground pathways linked many destinations that were important to Thieves. There was even a famous tunnel from years gone by that had been called the Throughway, as it ran along the North Fork, was wide and easily traveled, and was used by the Thieves to transport stolen goods from the Warehouse District to the Old Quarter, much like how the Throughway was used to do the same thing for the Merchants and Craftsmen above ground. That tunnel, unfortunately, had collapsed many years before, but it was indicative of the use the Thieves made of the sewers.

  The Harvest Guild members knew none of this, and thus the tunnel that led to Executioners Hollow elicited complaints from the injured on how uneven the path was and how difficult it was to travel. For Rogers, however, it was a delight--no shit or piss, and a small trickle of fresh water. It was a natural tunnel that seemed to be independent of the sewers.

  No wonder we never knew of this, Rogers thought, as they made another turn and yet again failed to pass a side tunnel or a man-made sewer access. It appeared to be a natural tunnel that had no purpose beyond its accidental use as a road between the Pit and Executioners Hollow.

  There was light ahead, and as it increased in intensity, so did the noxious stench of rotting flesh. A young Harvest Guild member asked, "You're from the Outer Fields and have never made this journey?" Rogers nodded, and the boy said, "Then you should gird your gourd, this is not a pleasant experience."

  "Thank you," Rogers replied, half alarmed at what he would find and half amused at the boy's use of the phrase "gird your gourd."

  It turned out to be much worse than Rogers expected. The cave opened at the narrow end of a small canyon, or crevice more than canyon. As it spread to more than shoulder length, the bones started to appear, and after a few more steps, the light dimmed. Looking up, Rogers could see why--bleached white leg bones and ribs had created a lattice above their heads.

  The bodies that were thrown into the cavern had stuck in the narrowing of the walls above them, and as they decayed, the bones created a kind of trap. As more bodies were thrown into the crevice, the bones became interlocked with those beneath, and the entire thing created a ceiling of bone. Beneath his feet, Rogers could see the remnants of crushed bone that those that had traveled before had ground into pieces.

  "It is worse ahead," the same boy said. "There is no ceiling to clear the floor, so we've created a path among the dead, but fresh bodies slide down and often block the path."

  And as the light once again shone down, Rogers could see what the boy meant. There was no natural ceiling of bone, no floor of crushed yet powdery bone, no way to try to imagine away the horror in front of you: There were skeletons and bodies piled to the left and a small path to the right that hugged the wall.

  The smell was overwhelming and it took all of Rogers willpower not to vomit. From the pools that he worked to avoid, Rogers could tell that several of those that came through before him were not so strong-willed.

  There were skeletons piled so high on the left that it was clear why the path was not discovered by the Knights--it was barely visible. Additionally, it was clear that this was the main point where the Knights tossed those executed from the Hollow, as there was no clear path. He had to step over bloated bodies and freshly dead, their faces recently alive but unrecognizable due to being picked over by carrion.

  The path was nothing more than gaps between and over skeletons and bodies, with the bodies shoved to the side when they blocked the path. Eventually they became skeletons and were more easily cleared. Rogers knew that he was surrounded by dozens of his guild mates, killed by the Knights after being caught stealing something from the Silo or Warehouse district or for some minor offense in another part of Ness. It didn't matter--Thieves were executed. It was the will of all the guildmasters.

  It didn't really hit him hard until he stepped over a body of a fat man that must have been dumped within the past few days. Rogers looked down as he tried to step around him or at least on him with a modicum of respect. It was Deely, one of Maela's key Thi
ef lieutenants in the Flats. He was deeply placed within the Harvest Guild, and Rogers immediately knew that Deely had done his duty as a Thief and was helping Harvest Guild members and in the process paid the ultimate price.

  Deely wore no guild colors, so Rogers was certain he was executed as a Thief and his colors ripped from his body, but Rogers couldn't imagine why Deely would steal things in the midst of the attack on the Harvest Guild. What was worth the risk of stealing in the Lower Quarter while so much other activity was going on? Rogers would never know, so he silently saluted his guild mate and moved on. Thankfully, the trail started to lead up, and the bodies were soon left behind.

  The trail at the top was narrow and treacherous for all but the children. They emerged to the North of Executioner's Hollow, behind a hill that was one of the group of hills that surrounded the hollow that contained the killing field of the Knights. There was a cart stained dark with dried and drying blood near the lip of the crevice.

  A large dark-skinned man with a large beard stood waiting for them. "They are waiting to the Northwest. There is a valley that is nestled next to a small hill that hides us from the Wall.

  Rogers nodded. "What about the Rangers?"

  "They avoid Executioners Hollow, but we will undoubtedly meet them as we approach the Outer Fields."

  "Let us go then." Rogers helped the stragglers as best he could, but the injured had trouble moving, and the young were all too ready to run off and investigate hilltops and random paths.

  His group finally reached the valley, and he took stock. There were a few dozen healthy men and women, a large group of children, and a smaller group of badly injured. Two men approached.

  "Rogers, is it?" It was a young man, with flowing black hair. He looked grim but excited. Rogers nodded. "I'm Rao."

  Rogers face lit up. "The brave young man who brought the made our initial plan a success!"

  "You have an odd definition of success." Rogers was somewhat taken aback. Had he not saved them? "We should have fled immediately but that fool Graf wanted us to defend the neighborhood."

  "Respect, Rao. Graf died defending our homes." It was the bald old man that he had seen back in the Pit.

  "Aye, Valmer." Rao turned to Rogers. "So we are to flee around the Wall to the North and head to the Outer Fields?"

  The question reminded Rogers that despite their perseverance, the families from the Pit still needed leadership. "Yes, we will need to go very wide, as to avoid the White Guard."

  "It's a long journey on foot," the old man stated, "especially with injured."

  "There is no option. I don't believe separating us is wise. Our numbers are still enough to make a small group pause before harassing us," Rogers replied. "That will not be the case if we are fewer in number." Both Valmer and Rao nodded.

  "Perhaps the Rangers will assist us," Valmer said. Rogers found the comment both interesting and encouraging. It was well known that as the only two guilds that operated outside the Wall, that the Rangers and Harvest Guilds were close, but the Rangers were officially a sub-guild of the Knights, and their loyalties were to supposed to lie there.

  Of course, it was well-known that Quinto loathed Saxe, so perhaps those loyalties were considerably weakened.

  They made dreadful progress. Without wagons or horses, the injured had to be assisted or carried, and that slowed everyone done to practically a crawl. The good news is that they were out-of-sight of the Wall, and the Knights didn't seem to know or care of what became of the residents of the Pit.

  Rogers was constantly tempted to head back. He was doing important work, but he was the Captain of the Lower Quarter, and he was no longer there helping in any way. He knew things were in good hands with Maas, but he still felt the pull of his duties.

  There were armed men at the front and rear, and Rogers himself wandered along the line of travelers. He wasn't sure how long the trip would take. He had hoped a single day, but with the pace it could easily have gone more, which meant that they were going to be in jeopardy of hunger and thirst.

  There was a shout from the front of the group, and Rogers sprinted ahead. His fear that the Knights had found them was replaced by uncertainty when he saw the two men wearing Brown. They both had bows slung over their shoulder, and wore a mixture of deep brown and flat green. Rangers. The question as to whether the Rangers would help or not was soon to be answered.

  He approached as one of the Rangers was finishing talking. "The Knights attacked you?"

  "No," Rogers said emphatically as he stopped in front of the two. They both turned and peered at him. "The Merchant Guards were aiming to clear the Pit and move everyone to the Wretched Quarter."

  "I don't know of this Pit, but you say that the Merchant Guild is attacking the Harvest Guild?" He turned to someone Rogers didn't know. "Then why did you say Knights were attacking?"

  "Your brethren are in league with the Merchants. While the Merchants attacked first, we had word that Knights with cavalry were on the way to finish the job."

  The two Rangers looked at each other. The one who had been speaking turned to Rogers. "And you are leading this group? What is your name?"

  "I am leading purely by fate. I am Rogers, and I am from the Outer Fields. I found myself nearby when the Merchants attacked and am doing my duty in assisting. If I am leading it is only due to circumstance, not right."

  The Ranger nodded and looked to the distance. "You are taking them to the Outer Fields?"

  "Yes. We will find shelter with our guild."

  "And why did Guildmaster Polo not send help or join the defense of his guild members?"

  Rogers had often asked himself the same question over the past two days. He shared his best guess. "I know not. I believe it is due to the surprise nature of the attack. His guards are near Harvest House, and those that were caught in the Lower Quarter were ill-prepared to defend against the attack. Additionally, many of the homes were burned to the ground, so there was confusion, as well."

  "We don't care much for city concerns, but this is troubling. I will need you to come with me and report to Guildmaster Quinto." He turned to his colleague. "Gather food and water from camp. Send word to Captain Ouros and see if you can get some horses or carts to help with the injured. He should care for his own." Turning to Rogers, he added, "Tell your guild mates to wait here. We will bring assistance."

  Rogers went up and down along the group and told everyone that the Rangers were going to be sending help. The response elicited cries of thanks and many comments of the goodness of the Ranger Guild. When he returned to the Ranger who had done the speaking, he was standing by himself, his colleague presumably off getting help.

  "So what is your name?"

  "Ah, I apologize for not introducing myself. I am Vilo." He held out his hand, and Rogers shook it.

  "Thank you for your assistance, Vilo."

  The Ranger shrugged. "A burning city is not worth defending," he replied. He turned and added as he started a brisk march out of the hills, "Follow me, Rogers. It is a good distance to Guildmaster Quinto, and we will be on foot, but it is an easy journey."

  Rogers shook his head as he increased his pace. He had never seen a Ranger in his life, and now he was heading off to meet with their Guildmaster.

  35

  Family Matters

  It wasn't exactly how he wanted things to go, but the idiot Larsen had proven to be dumber than even Orion's low opinion. The good news was that everyone in Ness hated Larsen, so the investigation into his death would not go much further than Keres' story: When confronted with the widespread discontent over his plan to relocate the Harvest guild and his own guild mates unhappiness with it, Larsen hurled himself to his death.

  The implication was that he committed suicide rather than face execution, which was the most plausible part of the entire story.

  Orion wasn't stupid, however, he knew that this didn't really improve his position. Polo was still going to be a thorn in his side, and while the dumb oaf Saxe could be maneuv
ered into doing whatever Orion wanted, he was not to be trusted. Orion was just glad that Saxe's deputy was the even dumber John.

  So his nephew was now running the Merchant Guild. That was at least a significant benefit and calmed thing significantly, but it wasn't a big gain. For that he needed to have Polo or Ralan dead or replaced.

  Ralan. The Thieves. Orion was shocked to hear of the existence of a secret guild and army in the Wretched Quarter, but in hindsight it made sense. Orion had been fooled by old Pietro's acting as much as anyone, but it was now so clear: Pietro had used his force of personality to hide decades of development and building. The good news was that Pietro's personal guild had started with him and it would end with Ralan.

  Of that Orion was certain. With the appropriate pressure, he would easily squash the ill-prepared miscreant. Alard was a problem, but he was also an asset--as long as Alard was a Thief, Saxe would be in Orion's pocket. So all Orion had to do was stabilize the mess that Larsen had created and then focus the attention of Ness on the evil Thieves--building their secret army in the Wretched Quarter. They were worse than the Outlanders.

  Then, once Ralan was disposed of, the vote to consolidate the Harvest and Merchant Guilds would go on again, and this time there would be no Larsen disasters. Being the careful sort, Orion had a second plan, and to work toward both plans Orion had called his nephew to visit him at the Craft Tower. To the public it was a clear indication that Keres was the new rightful Guildmaster Merchant. To Orion, it was a first, small step to his being the ruler--no, the emperor--of Ness.

  Being in a particularly good mood, Orion met Keres in his private quarters, which covered the entire top floor of his tower. In a small living room that contained a small fireplace and two wingback chairs, Keres sat with Orion, an open bottle of wine between them.