The Burning City (The Guildmaster Thief Book 2)

by Jake Kerr

Keres had just described Larsen's final moments, which Orion found enormously amusing. Orion shared Pattis' death, and then added, "With Larsen's Blade gone, as well, that only leaves Karch. It would be foolish to kill Karch, but you can certainly hide him in the dungeon and make some excuse that he is on a mission somewhere. We could then take care of him when you are more secure."

  "Um." Keres hesitated, and Orion frowned.

  "You haven't given Karch an important responsibility did you? I told you to wait on him, not do anything with him."

  "Well--"

  "Spit it out, you idiot."

  "Karch is missing. He is not in the guild, and no one seems to know where he has gone. He met with Pattis and then secured a guild carriage to head to the Knight Tower. He was dropped off there, leaving his guild colors behind."

  "What is this? Why did no one tell me?" Orion tried to think what this could mean.

  "We didn't know until I went to look for him. There is one other thing."

  Orion was not in the mood for any more surprises, but prepared himself for the worst. "What is it?"

  "He left his cloak behind. He exited the carriage with no guild colors." Interesting, thought Orion.

  "Is it possible he was dropped there, but left via the Great Gate?" Orion had an idea.

  "It is possible. We are still investigating."

  "Find out for certain. If he went to Saxe, that could complicate things. But if he saw the writing on the wall and abandoned Larsen to flee the city, that would be a boon for us." Orion nodded as he thought. "Yes. Karch is clever. He would know Larsen was building both of their gallows, and he would want out." Looking at Keres, he continued, "Was Larsen alive when he left?"

  "I believe so."

  "Then that is it. He knew he had no hope of living abandoning Larsen with Larsen still alive. Larsen would hunt him down and have him killed immediately, no matter where he went. So Karch did all he could do--he abandoned the city." Waving a hand, he concluded, "Don't bother asking Saxe. The imbecile will tell us if something so strange as Karch showing up on his doorstep happened, and I find it unlikely regardless. Karch has fled." Orion lifted his cup. "This is wonderful news."

  "I will need a Deputy and a Blade, then." Keres was respectful, and Orion appreciated that. Keres was a sinister little bastard, but he knew that his future was still in Orion's hands. "Let me find a Deputy for you. I have some ideas but want to make sure they will work with what I have planned. Talk to Vesper about a new Blade. He will not guide you wrong."

  "Yes, Uncle."

  "Okay, you know your immediate goals, then?"

  "To issue a statement that I will atone for Larsen's sins by inviting back all the Harvest Guild members. I will not only guarantee their safety, but the Merchant Guild will rebuild all the burned down homes and businesses."

  "I have another idea," Orion said, excitement sneaking into his voice. "You will furthermore give some of the Upper Triangle to the Harvest Guild as a gesture of goodwill." Orion paused, and then added, "The Miller family estate."

  Keres grinned. "So the ancestral home of the Guildmaster Thief and the disgraced Guildmaster Merchant will be given to the Harvest Guild? I like that, but Ralan's parents will not."

  "Larsen is dead, and Ralan's parents disowned him a few years ago. You will do it."

  "Of course. Is there anything else I need to know?" Keres took a long drink of wine. He appeared relaxed, which made Orion feel good. He needed Keres to be confident and able to handle potentially complex plans while remaining calm.

  Orion scratched his head and stretched his legs. "There are many complications. The Thieves are currently hosting the Harvest Guild, and who knows what lies they may have shared with them. If the Thieves turn the Harvest Guild members against us, it will embolden Polo."

  "I have an idea," Keres said. He looked nervous for the first time, and his words were spoken tentatively.

  "Go on."

  "You travel to the Wretched Quarter to deliver the message."

  "Me? Have you lost your senses? We are at war with the Thieves and you would send me into their midst?" For the first time, Orion questioned his nephew's wisdom. Did he not understand the danger?

  "I apologize, Uncle. I was simply thinking that the most beloved and trusted man in Ness is you. We need the Harvest Guild members to trust those that kicked them out to welcome them back. They may not trust me. I'm too new. But they see you as harmless, perhaps even a pushover. Your appearance will make them understand that you are committing to them."

  Orion paused. He took a drink of wine to ponder Keres' idea. It was a good plan, but the risk was too great. Vesper's spying had paid huge dividends. "No." Orion held up his free hand. "But it is a good idea. We need to send someone with a position of authority to the Wretched Quarter to meet with the Harvest Guild members and win them over. You are too new. Karch has abandoned his post. I'm too risky." Orion smiled. "We should send Saxe!"

  "Saxe?" Keres looked confused.

  "Yes. He is a man of authority. He has the force to both intimidate and inspire. He loathes the Thieves as much as I do. He will see it as a challenge, and in his own stupid way, him sending the message will underscore its sincerity. Someone as transparently violent as Saxe wouldn't bother with subterfuge."

  "Will he do it?"

  "Leave that to me." Orion looked at Keres glass, which was half empty and his own, which had a few drop left. Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle and topped off Keres and re-filled his own glass. "The replacement window in your office will be extraordinarily difficult to craft and complicated to install. It will be expensive." Keres nodded, clearly not understanding Orion's point, which was fine. The accounts would now swell in money owed to the Craft Guild. At some point, it wouldn't matter what happened--Orion would own the Merchant Guild.

  36

  Ten Families

  Ralan considered how to present the news. It was possibly the most important message he would ever speak in his life. The ten men and women in the room were a subset of the families of those dislocated from the Lower Quarter, but they were all influential. As they went, the guild would go.

  He needed to somehow let the guild members know that Keres was apologizing for Larsen's folly and welcoming back the Harvest Guild, while making sure that they did not believe him or return.

  It was an unfortunate position to be in. On the one hand he was going to push for civil war when peace was at hand. He never wanted nor expected to be the one to push for that route. But on the other hand the Thieves Guild was exposed, and if the Harvest Guild embraced peace, the entire city would unite to eradicate the Thieves. Despite their kindness to the Harvest Guild, he was certain that Saxe and Orion, as well as Keres and possibly even Polo, would push for their removal as a newly discovered threat.

  The deciding factor for Ralan was the obvious reality: Orion was a real threat, and by establishing his nephew as the Guildmaster Merchant, he was creating some kind of maneuver to remove Ralan or Polo, opening a vote that would usher in Orion as the undisputed leader of Ness.

  He cleared his throat. "My new friends, the newly established Guildmaster Merchant has offered your homes back. He apologizes for what his predecessor has done, and promises to rebuild the Lower Quarter."

  Blunt. To the point. Start with the edifice and then remove its foundation.

  Murmurs that turned into smiles and happy discussion followed his announcement. Ralan waited, and then the moment came. A new voice from a small and older woman spoke up, "We can return home! Thank the gods for Orion and his nephew!"

  Before the chorus of agreement could come, Ralan broke in. "Are we so certain?" His voice was strong and the question came out as a challenge, more than an inquiry.

  "What do you mean?" the woman replied, her voice already shrinking.

  "Orion sat back when you were forcibly removed from your homes. Is that the behavior of someone trustworthy?" Ralan changed the tone of his voice to thoughtful. He had never considered himself a born leader.
He was the mischievous boy who was placed in a position of authority due to a wayward punishment. But at that moment, all his words, the tone of his voice, the way he guided the conversation, came naturally and with the precision of a stiletto.

  "Orion is simple-minded. Everyone knows that." Another voice. A new one. "He is jolly."

  "The same was said of Pietro. A harmless old man, universally beloved by everyone. Yet you sit in his stronghold, surrounded by knights in black. And, just so, do you see any of those wearing the yellow sitting next to you? If Orion stood out of the way due to his simple-mindedness, why did his guild members not help you? They were your neighbors. They stood idly by, and they were protected."

  There were murmurs around the room. "Indeed, it is clear that the command to not help their Harvest Guild brothers and sisters came from Orion himself."

  "Why would Orion do such a thing?" Simpson said. Ralan looked at him, and he could see that Simpson was desperately latching on to Orion as his salvation. The idea of the Thieves providing assistance was too much.

  "Remember what occurred at the Guildmaster Banquet. Two people voted to stop the merger of the Harvest and Craft guilds--your guildmaster." Ralan paused. "And me." More murmurs. "Why would Guildmaster Orion and Guildmaster Polo be on opposite sides of something so momentous?"

  Simpson, still looking suspicious, replied, "But things may be different with this Keres fellow."

  "True." Ralan paused, as the various family matriarchs and patriarchs looked at each, a few sharing whispered comments. "Yet things may be the same. We cannot be certain." Ralan latched onto Simpson's uncertainty and brought his argument home. "You may be safe. You may not be. Perhaps it would be best if you waited for guidance from your Guildmaster?"

  It was Ralan's only hope. He was convinced that Polo would know what was going on and would object to anything offered by Orion or his nephew. Yet it would be impossible to get a word from Polo while he hid in Harvest House. That wasn't a problem, however. As Polo's own hesitation to move in the public would further raise suspicions among the Harvest Guild members as to Orion's and Keres' intentions. All Ralan had to do was have the families agree to wait for word from Polo, and he would have the time necessary to assess things, with reports from Alard, Vesper, Rogers, and possibly even Maela.

  "I will travel to Harvest House and inquire with Guildmaster Polo myself." Simpson, the old man who had proven to be the most inclined to doubt Ralan, was now calling his bluff.

  "I fear that would be impossible," Ralan replied. "You would be unsafe with the chaos in the streets and the Merchants guarding the Bridge and the Lower Quarter."

  "We have been invited back. I will go alone as a representative of our guild members. I will meet with Guildmaster Orion and Keres and tell them that we will do nothing without Polo's guidance."

  Three thoughts went through Ralan's head. The first was that he was positive that neither Orion nor Keres had anticipated such a scenario. The second was that there was no way they would allow one of the refugees to meet with Polo. The third was that Simpson had just volunteered for his own imprisonment or even death."

  "It is a wise decision if you believe that Orion and Keres are acting in good faith," Ralan replied. "But if you are wrong and they have no intention of goodwill for Guildmaster Polo, they will see you as threat, and your life will be jeopardy."

  "Why a threat" It was the woman who shared his surname, Carol.

  "There can only be one reason for letting you return to the Lower Quarter if Orion and Keres have false intentions--to draw out Guildmaster Polo. If Guildmaster Polo believes them, they will imprison or kill him. If he does not, they will use his disregard for your well-being as an excuse to replace him."

  "We would never question, Polo!" someone shouted, and a chorus of agreement followed.

  "But does Guildmaster Orion or the new Guildmaster Merchant know that?"

  There was no reply.

  "It matters not," Simpson replied. If I do not return, I am a message that Guildmaster Orion is not to be trusted. If I return, we will know it is safe." Simpson laid his hands flat on the table. "Either way, the message will be delivered."

  Ralan admired Simpson's courage. "You are not to be dissuaded?"

  "No."

  Turning to the room, Ralan spoke out. "Do you all agree that Simpson will be your guidepost, and until we hear word of his completed mission you shall remain our guests, safe with the Thieves?"

  There was still a hesitation in admitting to being guests of the Thieves, but everyone either stated agreement or murmured it.

  "Very well, I will leave you to your own counsel. If you need anything, you can send word to Captain Coode." Ralan stood up, followed quickly by Coode and Dirk. They exited the room, leaving behind loud discussion.

  As they walked down the steps of the building, Coode whispered to Ralan. "That was a master stroke, sir. They will remain calm and await a message that will undoubtedly never be delivered."

  Ralan frowned. "I would have preferred not sacrificing one of our guests to achieve the goal. Who do we have in the Lower Quarter?"

  "Rogers and Maas, sir."

  "Rogers is missing. Send word to Maas, and have him shadow Simpson. If we have ways to watch him in the Towers and, more importantly, rescue him, I want it done."

  "Coode nodded. "I will send word to Maas. Simpson's safety will be of paramount importance."

  Ralan was still too new to know the extent of the Thieves network and how far into the Merchant and Craft Tower that they had infiltrated, but he hoped that Coode was right.

  He didn't want to see Simpson hurt or killed, but he also knew a very simple truth: A rescued Simpson was the most important Simpson of all.

  37

  Down the Path

  Maela gave Darla a huge hug, and the two danced around after Darla explained the plan. They went outside to test it. Maela held up her bare arm. "So if we pretend this is invisible, what happens if you throw flour at it?"

  Darla did so, and the thin film of white on Maela's arm was a convincing demonstration. "See! If your arm was invisible, and all we could see was the flour, it would outline your arm, showing its shape."

  Maela nodded while she slapped her arm, removing the powder. "But what if everything that touches the guardian becomes invisible.

  "It is a risk," Darla conceded, "But think of the blood on your knife. That was inside the guardian, and yet it was visible. I am guessing that there is some kind of spell or element to this thing that makes it invisible, and things that aren't it visible. So the flour will work!"

  "Well, we don't have any other option," replied Maela.

  "That's not true. We could stay," Darla replied, which elicited a glare from Maela. Flashing a smile in return, Darla added. "You know I'm kidding. I love it here with you, but we are warriors and thieves. We have responsibilities, and there is so much of your world that I want to see!"

  Darla's sincere enthusiasm was infectious, and the two of them went on a tangential discussion of their favorite parts of Ness that they missed the most. As night fell, Darla blurted out, "We should try to escape tomorrow."

  It wasn't that Maela wasn't prepared or didn't want to try, but the suddenness of Darla's pronouncement threw her off balance. "Yes. I think that's a good idea," Maela replied. But her words came out awkward, and she felt like she wasn't showing enough excitement. Reaching over, she took Darla's hands in hers. "Not try to escape. Escape."

  The next morning they prepared for the difficult combination of being encumbered for a long journey and nimble for a sudden fight. They also had to prepare for launching a large amount of flour at an opponent that they couldn't see and make come upon them at any moment.

  As they started along the lane, Maela noted, "You know we are going to get attacked before we have a chance of tossing the flour?"

  Darla shook her head. "No, when we get close to where you feel the guardian is, we'll go step-by-step. Didn't you say that you could see the depression of its
steps?"

  "Yes, but that was when I had already been struck, and it was attacking me."

  "This is a new sensation," Darla replied after a short silence.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm the one pushing us forward with a vision of success, and you're the one questioning whether we have a chance." The comment was sharp and perhaps a little hurtful, but Maela realized it was accurate. She stopped, and Darla turned to look at her.

  "You're right. I guess I'm still a little nervous about it. I'm very used to managing all the various things that could go wrong. That's my specialty--knowing all the possibilities and assessing a solution. But an invisible guardian? How can I assess that? I don't even know what it looks like."

  Darla touched Maela's arm. "Well, you're thinking of one big possibility. You escaped the guardian. How did you do that? What did you see? What did you feel or smell? There has to be something."

  Maela took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "You're right. I haven't thought of the pieces." After a long moment of silence, Maela opened her eyes.

  "Have something?"

  Nodding, Maela began, "It is large and heavy. I could tell when it struck me. Now, look at the path." The both looked down. "This hasn't been traveled since we were dropped off. The grass looks like it doesn't grow high, which makes it look well-manicured, but look there and there--" Maela pointed at strips of dirt and a small bush that was growing at the edge of the lane but amongst the grass. "This is not a maintained lane. It is a wild path that was created with a grass that makes it remain clear and even."

  "Yes, I can see that," Darla replied.

  "So, the guardian is large and heavy, and is patrolling a lane of wild grass. That is the key. If we keep an eye out for grass that is depressed or a line of worn grass where someone or something may have walked in a regular pattern it will indicate the presence of the guardian."

  "Of course, we should be able to identify a change in the nature of the path when we reach the guardian!"