The Burning City (The Guildmaster Thief Book 2)

by Jake Kerr

  He proceeded to outline what Vesper considered the worst possible outcome: Larsen was dead. Karch was missing. And Orion's nephew Keres was now running the Merchant guild. If that weren't bad enough, Keres had spread the news that he was apologizing for Larsen's misdeeds and welcoming back the Harvest Guild. He had offered to rebuild the houses that had burned, and provide for those that were displaced.

  "Orion looks to isolate the Thieves," Vesper said, which elicited a solemn nod from Alard.

  "Wait. Orion knows of the existence of our guild?" Kalos looked dumbfounded.

  "It is the information Vesper has provided us," Alard replied. "It would have been impossible with so many streaming into the Old Quarter, but Orion found out sooner than we had hoped."

  "Of course, of course," Kalos replied, rubbing his chin. "Will the Harvest Guild members return to their homes and embrace Keres?"

  Vesper looked at Alard, but he remained silent. "I don't know," Vesper finally replied.

  "We need to know, and Guildmaster Polo needs to know. You have your new mission, Vesper," Alard suddenly said, his deep voice filling the room like the pounding of a drum. Kalos and Vesper looked at him. "I cannot approach Polo. He knows me. His guild knows me. They will imprison me on sight. You," Alard pointed at Vesper, "however, they do not know."

  "It is a lost cause," Vesper replied. "I attempted to reach Polo to assassinate him." Vesper said it casually, which he knew would shock Kalos and was a response that he liked to elicit, keeping others--friend and enemy--off guard. "It is impossible. Harvest House is small but insurmountable. The walls move under your feet. The vines work to toss you off while you climb them. There is only one path to Polo, and it is guarded by too many with no secret passages or shadows to reach him."

  "I did not say you were to assassinate him," Alard replied. "You are to reach him and inform him of what is happening. We have tried with our own Blade, and she is currently missing. We don't know how well-informed Polo is. We can assume he knows much, but this information is coming from the ground in the Lower Quarter. Polo may be missing the larger political machinations of Orion."

  "I can get you to the Harvest District," Kalos interjected. "We rarely go there as there is no reason to, but there is a path--not a pleasant path, but a path--under the North Fork."

  Vesper didn't like the mission because he considered it well outside his expertise. He could kill. He could spy. He could even torture and destroy. But having a diplomatic conversation with a guildmaster was not something he had ever done before.

  He once again considered the lay of the land. Orion had made a bold move, one that in one stroke had significantly threatened the Thieves--they were potentially isolated, with all of the guilds not only against them, but knowing of their existence and their base of operations. The wildcard was Polo. If Polo joined with Orion and his nephew and Saxe, there was no hope for the Thieves.

  But would Polo do that? Did he see the end game? If he helped his guild members in the Lower Quarter in the short run, would that destroy the guild in the long run? He knew precious little about the old Harvest Guildmaster, who mostly kept to himself and was only the target of Orion's attention after Ralan ruined his and Larsen's plans.

  In the end, Vesper realized he didn't have to make an immediate decision. He could abandon the Thieves at any time. If he did reach Polo, he could even make the decision then, delivering Polo to Orion or Ralan at his will. That final thought was very appealing, and Vesper finally replied, "I will contact Polo, but I need guidance on this mission."

  "Yes?" Alard replied.

  "The mission is unclear: Inform Polo of the wider danger to his guild from Orion and Keres is not specific enough. What is the goal of the mission?"

  Alard stared at Vesper for a long time until he shook his head and replied, "You are a formidable man, Vesper. The goal is to have Polo reject any offering from Orion or Keres. We need Polo to remain isolated so that our guild can find a plan forward without facing eradication. I do not expect Polo to embrace the Thieves. I do not expect you to convince him of the good of our mission." Alard crossed his arms. "I expect you to fan the flames of hatred that Polo has toward Orion. I don't care how you do it."

  Vesper stood up. "That I can do."

  39

  The Guildmaster Ranger

  Rogers had been a thief long enough to have a keen sense of perception. The sounds and movements in the open air of the plains were completely different than what he experienced in alleys, inns, and dark corners, but that didn't mean that he couldn't sense things.

  As Vilo led him along, the first thing Rogers noticed was that while there was no real path, Vilo followed a very specific pattern. He was moving in a specific direction, and the twists and turns they took kept them among shorter grass. Even if the path was more direct, Vilo would avoid it if it included brush that was higher than Roger's knees.

  Rogers first thought was that there was treacherous ground under the taller grass, but another thought changed his mind--they were in the middle of plains that led to the Outer Fields. Rangers should have been everywhere, but Rogers had seen none other than his escort.

  They are hiding in the tall grass, he thought.

  They had walked briskly for about two hours, with Vilo speaking very little. "How much further?" Rogers asked.

  "Not far. You'll see the encampment in the distance soon."

  "Why is the camp so far from the Wall?"

  Vilo gave Rogers an are you serious? look, and then replied, "We hold back the Outlanders. Keeping a lot of distance between them and the city is a good idea, no?"

  Rogers had not even considered the Outlanders once they began their march. Of course, he knew they were out there, and the Rangers were defending the city from them, but he never thought of them much while he managed the Lower Quarter, and out here while walking with Vilo, he was more interested in their immediate environs. "Of course," was Rogers rather embarrassed reply.

  The camp turned out to be a settlement that looked like a large village made up of tents of all sizes. On the edge to the north were what appeared to be a fenced field and mobile stable, with dozens of horses. Their path to the camp was no longer camouflaged, and it appeared to be well worn. While the camp was definitely designed to move, it looked like it had been in its current location for a long time.

  Rogers found the Rangers unsettling. He had spent his entire life where color defined the person. No one mixed green with blue or yellow with white. At formal events, accent patterns displaying sub-guilds were acceptable, but a solid color with a solid cover just seemed wrong. Yet here were men wearing brown and green together. Others wore undyed leather with pale yellow shirts.

  The clothing of the Rangers appeared to serve two functions: Practical lounging around the camp, where limiting your clothing to the Ranger Guild color of brown seemed entirely optional, and those who were leaving the camp on guild business, and their colors were used more to hide the Ranger in the brush or dirt than illustrate guild membership.

  Rogers was still wearing the green of his Harvest Guild disguise, and it elicited a number of comments from passing Rangers, all of them supportive and positive. Some of the comments referred to Outer Field raids that has slipped through, and Rogers realized that the Rangers assumed he was an emissary of the Harvest Guild Captain of the Outer Fields.

  They reached a large tent at the center of the camp, and it took a long time as Vilo answered question after question about his need to talk to Quinto. Most of the guards ignored Rogers as harmless.

  They eventually found themselves in a tent adjacent to the large tent, waiting on Quinto to call on them. The sun had already set after a wait of longer than an hour when they were called in. Their path illuminated with torches, Rogers followed a Ranger through the small tent and into the bigger one. There was no ceremony or preparation, they were walked directly into a smaller section of the tent. It looked like an office, with a desk, a few chairs facing it, and large flat pieces of wood held up
by wooden bases that had maps and other papers secured on them.

  "Vilo, is it?" Quinto stood up. He was tall, but not as tall as Alard. He had jet black hair that reached to his shoulders, and a thick, black mustache. That was another thing that Rogers noticed--mustaches without beards were very uncommon in Ness, yet they appeared plentiful out in the plains. Unlike his guild members, Quinto wore no other than his guild brown, with a brown cotton shirt tucked into brown pants made of a thin cloth. The pants were another rarity among the Rangers--most of them wore leather or thicker fabric.

  "Thank you for seeing me, Guildmaster." Vilo bowed his head. "This is Rogers. He is from the Outer Fields and has troubling news from within the Wall."

  Quinto peered at Rogers, and for the slightest of moments, Rogers had the sensation that Quinto knew he was a Thief and not a true Harvest Guild member. But he smiled, held out his hand, and said, "Welcome to our camp, friend. I hope Guildmaster Polo is well. I hear every other guildmaster in Ness wants to assassinate him."

  As he shook Quinto's hand, Rogers was taken a little aback by the nonchalance of Quinto's view of Ness politics, especially those involving an assassination. Still, it was the opening Rogers needed. "It is dire, sir." Rogers then outlined the situation in Ness, going into great detail in explaining the deadly assault on the Harvest Guild neighborhoods in the Flats.

  "Am I to understand that you are saying the Knight Protectors stood idly by as Merchant guild guards attacked a Harvest Guild neighborhood."

  "It is worst than that, Guildmaster. As we fled through the sewers like rats, we knew of Knight Protectors launching an even more deadly assault that included cavalry."

  "Has Saxe lost his mind?" Quinto exclaimed. "I'm guessing Larsen paid for his loyalty." Rogers was shocked at how casually Quinto could accept that Saxe had been bribed. "I told the idiot to get a better Deputy, someone who would challenge him and manage his men better, but he enjoys having the simple-minded mountain as his deputy because he had won every arms competition in the guild."

  As he spoke, Quinto scribbled on a piece of paper. There was a moment of silence when he finished speaking but still continued writing his note. Finally, he folded it, placed it in an envelope and melted wax on it, closing it with his guild seal.

  While Quinto worked, Rogers thought of what he had said. It was all information that Rogers filed away in his head. John, the Knight Deputy Guildmaster, was well-known to be stupid, but now Rogers knew why he got the job, he was untouchable in battle. That was something to share with Alard.

  Quinto stood up, barely five minutes after their meeting had started, and waved toward the door. "Thank you again, Rogers. This was extremely valuable to me." Rogers had much more to share about Larsen and Orion and various other political machinations that he felt Quinto should know, but didn't know how to do so without offending the Guildmaster. "Um, sir." Looking to buy time and perhaps have Quinto sit down again, Rogers said, "What can be done?"

  With a smile, Quinto replied, "Why we will depose my traitorous guildmaster."

  Rogers was so stunned he had to stop as Vilo started to usher him out. "Saxe?"

  "Of course. I've had issues with him for a long time, but this is too much. You will help me with this, Rogers."

  Things were moving fast, and Rogers did his best to stay aware of the various opportunities and pitfalls. "How so, sir?"

  "You will take a note to your guildmaster. I need to talk to him."

  "As I said, sir, he is unreachable in Harvest House."

  "He will meet with me." Quinto said it with such confidence, that Rogers knew it to be true. "But I want him to think over a few things before I arrive." Quinto held out the envelope and note he had just written. "You are to hand it to Polo or Esmer. No one else."

  "I understand."

  "Time is of the essence." Turning to Vilo, Quinto said, "Go to the stables and take our two fastest horses. Escort Rogers to Harvest House. You will return with Polo's reply."

  "Yes, sir."

  They were dismissed, and Vilo led Rogers toward the stables. He was far from his duties in the Lower Quarter, but he felt that this was an acceptable mission. If Quinto could join Polo in working against Orion and Larsen, the Thieves would potentially be the difference in returning order to Ness.

  40

  The Guildmaster Magic

  Philos objected constantly, but Ralan had a very specific reason for wandering through the streets and walking into the pubs and inns in the Old Quarter. Philos and everyone else thought it was to be welcoming to the Harvest Guild members, to explain to them one-on-one that the Thieves were not evil but were actually the ones who helped the most in Ness.

  But that was not the reason he was in the open, walking the streets, and being irresponsibly accessible. And it was irresponsible in many ways--Philos had to intervene a few times when an angry Harvest Guild member accosted Ralan for causing all the problems due to his interference at the Founders Day Banquet. But Ralan had to do it, and as he wandered through the square in the Old Quarter, feeling more and more like Pietro of old, his efforts bore fruit.

  As the pale man with blonde, almost white hair, approached, Ralan smiled and said, "I had expected you before now." Turning to Philos, Ralan said, "Let him close." Philos knew better than to object.

  The Outlander shrugged. "We have our own plans."

  "Of course. I hope that you have sent Lord Wilhelm my best."

  "It is your best that worries us. It does not appear to be good enough."

  Ralan was often considered arrogant, but he didn't feel that way. He simply enjoyed standing up to authority. This Outlander, however, he was arrogant. "Indeed. What if I were to admit my weakness, to admit that I have lost control of Ness. The future of the trade routes are not only in jeopardy but are an impossibility."

  For the first time, the Outlander looked unsure of himself. "The are required to be open. Our patience is at an end."

  "That is not a threat. Nor is it a plan. That is a plea," Ralan said, turning up the intensity of the discussion.

  "It is not a plea!" The Hand of Wilhelm appeared upset for the first time. Ralan shrugged. "We will take action."

  Ralan waved his hand toward the Wall. "Please. Quinto's forces continue to easily hold you back." Ralan knew that was a lie, as the Outlanders were getting closer and closer to the Outer Fields, but his lie served its purpose.

  "Are you mocking us? The heir of Pietro dares to mock Lord Wilhelm?" the Hand was visibly angry at that point.

  Raising his hands, Ralan said, "Hold, Hand. I simply point out that we should work together. As you happily have pointed out, I have lost control of Ness. In resolving this, I need Lord Wilhelm's help. Yet Lord Wilhelm has had his own difficulties. I propose that we work together."

  The Hand of Lord Wilhelm peered at Ralan. "What do you have in mind?"

  "It will require restraint."

  "Go on." The Hand was transfixed with Ralan's unspoken plan.

  "I propose that Lord Wilhelm launch a small but significant attack on the Foothills. It will draw Quinto's forces south. You would then launch a larger attack at the Outer Fields. This will draw Saxe's knights from the city. You should not aim for victory or raiding the stores of the Outer Fields. You are to keep Saxe occupied for as long as you can."

  The Hand replied, "And what if we decide that we want the Outer Fields?"

  "I will tell Quinto of our plan and he will reinforce Saxe."

  "You would not do that, as it would reveal you as a traitor." Ralan shrugged.

  "And then I would reveal your defenses and the truth of Gaotteland's dangerously low food stores, unleashing Saxe to attack you directly."

  "You would not do that," the Hand replied, his voice slightly strained. Ralan shrugged.

  "I need a distraction. Immediately. I need it for days, but weeks would be better. Achieve that, and the future of Gaotteland will be assured." Turning to Philos, Ralan said, "We are done."

  Philos grabbed the Outlander and s
hoved him away from Ralan, nearly causing the man to stumble to the ground.

  As he returned to the Tower later in the day, Philos finally got up the courage to confront Ralan. "That is treason if it doesn't work." Ralan wasn't offended. He knew that Philos was simply reminding Ralan of the consequences.

  "It will work."

  Philos was quiet for a few moments, and then added, "So what are the next steps?"

  "I need to visit Captain Jesser of the Rangers." Before Philos could say anything, Ralan added, "Alone."

  As Ralan made his way up to his quarters he didn't know what would happen. He was at least happy that he had two successful scenarios: One was Polo rejecting Orion and Keres' outreach and creating a continuation of the percolating civil war that had not quite arrived yet. The other was the Outlanders attacking Ness, splitting Saxe from Orion, and giving the Thieves some breathing room to find a way to talk to Polo and plan a path forward. Ralan didn't want to think of what would happen if neither happened.

  As he climbed the stairs, Ralan decided to stop in the library. Raef had been acting oddly since he had returned with Pietro's books. Ralan would wander in and say, "Have you discovered anything yet?" and Raef would wave Ralan off, not even replying.

  Raef was obsessing over something, and Ralan hoped it was something helpful and not a history of guildmaster jewelry. He walked in, and as he expected, Raef had his face buried in a book. It was large with hundreds of pages. Raef looked to be halfway through it.

  "Find out anything interesting?"

  Raef looked up, and for the first time Ralan truly grasped how obsessive Raef must have been. He was thin, and his eyes were red and bloodshot His hair was greasy and Ralan doubted that Raef had even bathed lately.

  "By the gods, Raef, you need to take a break. Look at yourself. These books will kill you!"