Thief's Blade

by C. Greenwood

I broke into a run, dashing through the square. Sounds of pursuit told me the fruit seller wasn’t far behind. I didn’t dare go the same way as Ada. I didn’t want to draw the angry seller in her direction. Instead, I rounded a corner onto a main street.

  Even amid my fear of being caught, I felt an unexpected rush of excitement as I ran along. This was unquestionably one of the most daring things I had ever done. And for once, I was the offender, not the victim. It felt surprisingly good to be acting instead of reacting.

  There was little traffic at this early hour. I dodged a boy and his dog herding a flock of sheep toward the market, crossed the street, and started down an alley.

  But my excitement was short-lived. My pursuer was not easily shaken. I had thought I lost him after crossing the street. But now I heard the sounds of ringing footprints pounding down the alley behind me. At the end of the way, I clambered over a wobbly fence, cut through someone’s back garden, and escaped into another series of twisting lanes.

  But the sounds of pursuit still followed.

  Panic welled up in me. My legs were weary, and now my lungs began to burn. I didn’t know this city well enough to keep up a prolonged chase. Where would I run? I thought I could find my way back to the under-levels, but I didn’t dare go back there. I couldn’t lead them toward our hideout and Ferran.

  The questioned was soon settled. I heard my pursuer gaining ground, and then his fingers caught hold of my coat collar. I was jerked to a sudden, choking stop and dragged over backward, off my feet. As I slammed to the ground, pain exploded in the back of my head, where my skull met the cobblestones.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The world spun dizzily. For an instant I had a skewed view of the rooftops of the buildings around me, jutting up into the sky. I saw puffy clouds overhead, and then, strangely, Ada’s frightened face peering down at me from over the edge of a roof far above.

  What was she doing up there?

  Her face and everything else disappeared as something dark descended over my head, a canvas bag smelling faintly of onions. I tried to fight, but my arms felt too heavy to move. I was lifted at both ends and roughly carried between two people. Had someone joined the fruit seller in capturing me? I was too dazed to make sense of it.

  After being carried a short distance, I was placed in what felt like the back of a wagon or long cart. I heard the rustle of some sort of covering being pulled over the bed of the wagon, concealing me. Already blind with my head inside the bag, I found it darker still now. Breathing was difficult enough with the hood over my head. Under two layers, I began to suffocate. I opened my mouth to yell for help but could only make a muffled gagging noise.

  It dawned on me that whoever was doing this to me, they weren’t the fruit seller or local authorities. My captors were going to too much trouble to silence and conceal me. It could only be the scarred man and the red-bearded one. Fear flashed through me. At first it was dread of my enemies. Then it became a more basic fear, as I struggled to draw breath.

  I was vaguely aware the cart beneath me was beginning to rumble forward.

  * * *

  I must have lost consciousness for part of the journey, for I didn’t regain awareness again until the wagon came to a halt and the covering was yanked off me. I had no idea how long or short a distance we had traveled. Time had lost all meaning. Now with the thick covering gone and only the hood smothering me, I could get a little more air than before. A faint glow of daylight penetrated the gloom inside the hood, but I couldn’t make out any distinct shapes.

  I was lifted out of the cart and carried the same as before between two men. At least this time I knew who my captors were. They didn’t speak as they dragged me roughly along, and I was quiet too. No matter what happened from here on out, I resolved that I would keep silent. They would never get Ferran’s location out of me.

  I felt a shadow drop over us, and the air went still as we left the outdoors and entered some sort of building. I wondered where they were taking me. My carriers grunted under my weight, and wooden floorboards creaked under theirs. They didn’t carry me far, before dropping me suddenly on a hard floor. I gave a muffled yelp at the impact. As I lay on my back, they removed my hood.

  At last I had a view of my surroundings. The first thing I saw was a distorted blaze of firelight before my blurry eyes. Quickly the blaze receded into the distance as my vision cleared. It resolved itself into a large metal cage or chandelier holding a multitude of wax candles. Suspended from a wooden beam crisscrossing the ceiling, the chandelier’s glow bathed the room in orangey light, casting flickering shadows over floors and walls.

  The space around me was vast and open. I couldn’t guess at its original purpose. Whatever the place had once been, it must be long in disuse now. The plaster was cracked, and timbers were rotting. In many places there were gaps in the ceiling, giving glimpses into a darker level above. There were tall windows on either side of the long room, but these had been heavily boarded up, keeping out any hint of daylight. The only illumination in the cavernous room came from the hundreds of candles overhead that dripped little flecks of hot wax down onto the floor around me.

  Although I took all this in at a glance, my real focus was on the people in the room. Where I had expected only my two known captors, I was surrounded instead by a crowd of nearly a hundred strangers. Their voices buzzed in conversation around me, their faces a mixture of curiosity and amusement, as if my sudden entrance into the middle of them was some sort of entertainment. These were a rough-looking bunch of men and a few women, some of them wearing the rags of beggars, others looking better fed and clothed but still grimy. Many were scarred from frequent fighting or were missing teeth, an eye, or a limb. Some bore wooden cudgels or gleaming knives hanging from their belts. They were a mixture of young and old, big and small, fair and ugly. The only thing they had in common were hard faces and an air of menace.

  Of the two captors I had expected, the scarred and red-bearded men, there was no sign. The pair who had apparently carried me in and were now standing over me were unfamiliar.

  Finished staring at the strangers who were staring back at me, I climbed uncertainly to my feet. My legs felt weak, and my head still throbbed.

  There was a stirring in the crowd, and they parted to let someone pass through them. I heard the voice of the approaching man before I saw him.

  “Welcome, young stranger, to the thieves’ court.”

  The speaker came into view, a tall fair-haired man with a short beard. His face was disconcerting, ordinary on one side but horribly marred on the other by scarring, as if from a terrible burn. The burned area surrounded his eye, which was concealed beneath a leather patch.

  He observed me looking at it.

  “You are admiring my eye, wondering how I came by such a decoration,” he said conversationally. “It was a gift from a former friend who thought to overthrow me. He shoved a torch into my face. But the souvenir I gave him was greater.”

  I didn’t much care how he had lost his eye. Seeing how the others grew hushed when he spoke, I guessed him to be the leader of this fierce-looking band. That made him the man to speak to.

  “Did you say I am in the thieves’ court?” I asked, still trying to understand my situation. “What does that mean?”

  The man’s face split into a grin that was neither amused nor friendly. “Sometimes the thieves’ court means that, as I have been called ‘the thief king,’ this is my hall. But today it means that this is your trial and I am to be your judge and, if necessary, executioner.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Who are all of you?” I gestured toward the spectators.

  The thief king lifted an eyebrow at my ignorance. “Can it be you have not heard of us? We are the thieves’ guild.”

  He circled me, as if sizing me up. He didn’t look impressed with what he saw.

  All the same, I was relieved. I didn’t know what these strangers wanted from me, but it was becoming clear they had no connection with m
y enemies or my past.

  The thief king paused before me. He must have noted me growing less apprehensive.

  “Would you like to tell us what it is that makes you look so pleased?” he asked. Although his teeth were bared in the semblance of a smile, his eyes were cold.

  I sensed I had best tread carefully.

  “It’s only that I’m relieved because I thought you were someone else,” I said.

  “Someone you fear more than us?” the thief king asked, raising his voice for the benefit of the onlookers. “Should we be insulted, my friends?”

  He looked around at his companions, who laughed and whispered to one another.

  The thief king returned his attention to me, and this time his smile disappeared.

  “I am sorry to tell you, youngling, that whoever you expected, you have fallen into much more serious hands now. You would do well to be afraid. They were.”

  He gestured toward the near wall. I followed his motion, and my blood froze in my veins.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  On first arriving in the room, I had failed to notice that wall. Even now, I wondered if what I saw was real or summoned from a nightmare. Nailed up on the walls like grizzly decorations were dozens of severed human limbs. The arms and legs made me think of hunting trophies, like the deer and boar heads that used to line the great hall in my father’s castle.

  The thief king gave me no time to absorb the disturbing sight, saying, “You see, each of these victims were snatched off the streets for the same crime as yours.”

  “Crime?” I was so stunned I could hardly make my lips move.

  “Several of our members saw you robbing a fruit seller in the market,” he answered. “Recognizing you were not one of ours, two set out after you. The others came to inform me so I could assemble this court.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  He tilted his head and fixed me with a look of mock pity.

  “This city is ours,” he explained. “And none who have failed to pay their dues to the guild may ply the trade here. That is our law, one we take very seriously.”

  As he spoke, he turned his back to me and crossed the room. When the crowd made way for him, I saw what I had not before, a high-backed wooden chair at the head of the hall. This was roughly made but arranged in a place of honor, like some sort of throne. Above it on the wall hung a strange weapon suspended on hooks. I had never seen such a sword as this, for it had an unusual black blade.

  The thief king didn’t sit on his throne but walked behind it to take down the black-bladed sword from its place on the wall.

  “The thieves’ guild is very old,” he said casually to me. “We have certain ancient customs. Among these is the tradition of the Thief’s Blade.”

  He ran a finger down the sharp length of the blade. “Those unlucky souls who don’t pay the proper respect to the guild have their limbs cut off with the Thief’s Blade, as a warning to other would-be thieves not to infringe on our territory.”

  A sinking feeling had been growing in my stomach ever since laying eyes on the severed arms and legs pinned to the wall. I could see what he was leading up to.

  He continued, “By ‘proper respect,’ of course, I mean seeking guild permission to work in this city, that and the paying of a small fee.”

  I swallowed, wondering if I could bluff my way out of this. “I, uh, already paid the fee,” I said. “In fact, I’m a member of your guild. Probably you just don’t remember me because I’m new.”

  At the glint in his one good eye, I immediately realized I had made a mistake in calling his memory into question.

  But all he said was, “Are you now? A member of my guild? If that’s the case, you won’t mind proving it.”

  He motioned to the two men who had brought me in. They rushed forward suddenly to take hold of my arms, holding me immobile. Their leader crossed over to me and shoved the sleeves of my tunic up, examining both my pale forearms.

  “This is unlucky, young stranger,” he said ironically. “Somehow you seem to have lost the brand that marks you as a guild member.”

  He ripped back his own sleeve, revealing a silvery X branded into an inner forearm, just below the elbow.

  “Without a mark like this, we have no choice but to look upon you as a liar. And we don’t care much for liars, do we, fellows?”

  He directed that last to the onlookers. They made sounds of noisy agreement.

  One voice in the crowd even yelled, “I say we chop his arms off.”

  There were choruses of agreement throughout the room.

  The thief king held up a hand for silence. The other hand, I noticed, still gripped his black-bladed sword.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my friends,” he said loudly. “It’s only fair we give the boy a chance to redeem himself.” Then he dropped his voice and whispered sideways to me, “That means money, boy. If you have any, now’s the time to show it.”

  I wasn’t about to argue. I nodded quick agreement and, as soon as my arms were released, plunged my hands into my coat pockets. My searching fingers reached past the worthless apples I had stolen that morning but found no pouch of coins beneath. Too late I remembered I had given all my money to Ada. I had nothing left with which to buy my safety. I thought of my father’s ring, dangling from its cord around my neck and hidden beneath my tunic. But I was unwilling to part with that even if my life depended on it.

  Trying to sound less afraid than I was, I said, “Listen, I’m willing to pay whatever you want, but I don’t have the money on me right now. Let me go, and I’ll bring it back to you.”

  The thief king made a disappointed sound. “Alas, that’s a promise we’ve heard all too often. I fear this guild does not accept promises or extend credit. If you’re unable to pay now, we’ll have no choice but to take off your arms and throw you into the lake. The fish at least will get some value out of you.”

  The gathered crowd roared with apparent delight at the suggestion. I tried to appeal to the thief king but couldn’t make myself heard over the noise. I was pushed through the mob toward the head of the room. From somewhere, they produced a large wooden block stained with the blood of past victims.

  Panic welled up in me. As I was pushed down onto my knees and my right arm forcibly stretched over the block, my blood thundered in my ears. I saw in my mind’s eye another scene with another block. It wasn’t my arm about to be severed there but my father’s head.

  Then I returned to the moment. The thief king was approaching me. It wasn’t him I fixed my eyes on but the approach of that sharp black blade. It gleamed in the candlelight.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The thief king stood over me, sword upraised.

  I braced myself. But while I stared at that wicked black blade, waiting for it to descend, I saw something unexpected. A bright blue flash crackled across the sword, dancing over the steel.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. What was this?

  The thief king too paused to examine the sword, looking startled. When the strange flash didn’t reappear, he shook his head, as if tossing aside some odd thing he had imagined. He stood over me and hefted the blade again. Time seemed to slow down. As the blade descended, I couldn’t help flinching and squeezing my eyes closed.

  I waited for the steel to bite into my arm. But it didn’t.

  When I opened my eyes again to see what was causing the delay, I beheld the thief king staring down his own person in bewilderment. Sparks and flashes of blue light danced and crackled up and down him. He lowered his blade and swatted at the blue sparks, like they were annoying insects. Then the sparks left him and began to dart around the room. The attention of all the confused spectators followed those sparks of blue.

  But not my attention. I was too busy scanning the room, looking for the creator of the disturbance. And then I glimpsed her, a slight, silver-haired figure crouching in the shadow of a barrel near the wall. How had she gotten in here?

  As I watched, a bolt of
blue lightning shot out of her hands and forked across the room, striking the rope holding the chandelier suspended over our heads. The rope snapped, and the massive cage of steel and fire came crashing down. Floorboards shattered beneath its weight, sparks flew, and the room was plunged into darkness and confusion. The voice of the thief king rang out over the tumult, as he shouted that there must be an enemy mage in the room.

  No one held me down anymore. Finding myself forgotten amid the chaos, I took advantage of the disorder to stumble away from the crowd. It was impossible to see where I was going, but I made for what my ears told me was a quieter part of the room. If only I could get to the entrance I had first come through. But it was no use. There seemed to be a knot of people blocking my way.

  As I felt my way forward, blindly, a hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed my fingers. I started until I realized it wasn’t one of my captors preventing my escape. The small but strong hand belonged to Ada.

  “Come on, Rideon,” she whispered harshly, her fingers digging into mine. “I know a way out.”

  I certainly didn’t argue. Out was good. I let her lead me along through the noise and the blackness until she came to a halt. She knelt on the floor, and there was a harsh, scraping sound as if she were fumbling around, searching for something. I heard a shrill creak, and then came the touch of cool air, a moving current drifting up from below. It must be a trapdoor of some kind.

  “You first,” Ada whispered, shoving me toward the opening in the floor. My exploring hands told me she had pried up a wide floorboard, leaving a gap too small for a grown man but just big enough for scrawny younglings like us to squeeze through. I had no idea what was below, but I trusted Ada. I put my legs through the gap and then lowered my whole body, dropping clumsily from one dark place into another.

  The fall was a short one. I landed in a crouch on a hard floor. Before I could stand upright and get my bearings, a weight descended on top of me. It was Ada, falling like a bundle of rags and bones to knock me down.