Brotherhood of Thieves 1

by Stuart Daly

  But this enthusiasm vanished the instant he saw the weapons racks. Caspan shivered in nervous anticipation and glanced at the other recruits, who were chatting excitedly and indicating which swords they wanted to pick. Roland and Lachlan in particular seemed keen to demonstrate their fencing skills. But Caspan didn’t share their passion. He’d never wielded a sword before. The only weapon he was acquainted with was a stiletto, which he only ever used when picking locks or sliding open window catches. Some of the Black Hand members carried slim-bladed rapiers, but Caspan had never seen the practicality of such a sword. It wasn’t as if he’d ever use one in anger against anybody.

  He was drawn from his thoughts by Roland, who was shaking his head and laughing at Lachlan. ‘What’s so funny?’ Caspan asked.

  ‘That!’ Roland pointed at the bright red knitted bed-cap Lachlan was wearing, and which Caspan – and everybody else, it appeared – had failed to notice until now. Its pompom dangled comically down the side of the large boy’s face. ‘I can’t believe you sleep in that! Next thing you know you’ll be getting around with a walking stick.’

  Lachlan felt atop his head and blushed. He snatched off his night-cap and shoved it hastily into the pocket of his cloak. ‘Oops. I meant to take that off before I left my room.’

  ‘Well, your secret’s out now, you little old grandpa.’ Roland guffawed before breaking into song:

  ‘Timmity Timmity Timmity Tom,

  He jumped out of bed with his night-cap on.

  With slippers and gown, he looked such a muddle.

  He flew out the door and slipped in a puddle.’

  Lachlan gave him a playful shove, but anger crept into his voice. ‘Knock it off.’

  Roland raised an apologetic hand. ‘Whatever you say, Timmity Tom.’ He looked over to his left, started and pushed his friends into place. ‘Hurry up, you puddenheads! Master Scott’s coming.’ Slightly offended, the recruits responded quickly to Roland’s announcement and formed a straight line.

  The Master crossed the training yard and nodded with approval at how the recruits had arranged themselves. ‘I hope you had no problems in finding this area?’

  ‘None whatsoever, sir,’ Roland said proudly, assuming the role of the recruits’ spokesperson. Caspan suppressed a wry grin at how Roland had conveniently forgotten to tell the Master that Gramidge had escorted them to the training yard after an early breakfast.

  ‘That’s good. The House of Whispers is large and its grounds extensive. Should you ever find yourself lost, use that as a bearing.’ Scott pointed to the eastern section of the building, at the massive tower that soared over the manor house. ‘We call that the Eagle’s Eyrie. You can see it from practically anywhere.’ He parted back his black cloak and rubbed his gloved hands eagerly. ‘But enough of that for now. It’s time for your first training session.’ He gazed up at the grey sky and smiled appreciatively. ‘We’re fortunate to have been blessed with a perfect morning. I love the cold. It’s revitalising and keeps you on your toes.’ He cocked an eyebrow sceptically. ‘I can see that some of you think otherwise.’

  Sara fidgeted with the folds of her cloak in an attempt to draw them closer around her. ‘It was a little cold last night, sir.’

  Scott nodded. ‘It can get chilly here. You should ask Gramidge for extra blankets. In fact, I order all of you to do that sometime today. The last thing we want is for you to be catching colds and missing out on your training sessions. But you’ll warm up soon enough, I guarantee that.’ He smiled wryly and motioned with a wave of his hand for the recruits to follow him.

  It was only now that Caspan noticed the five chests arranged at the edge of the training yard. He walked alongside the Master and gave him a hopeful look. ‘So we’re not sword-training?’

  ‘No.’

  Caspan exhaled a relieved breath. ‘Then what are we doing?’

  ‘We’re walking across the training yard, that’s what we’re doing.’ Grinning wryly again, Scott led the group over to the chests and indicated for them to sit on the ground. Roland remained standing. ‘Is there a problem?’ the Master asked.

  Roland looked down at the dirt. ‘I’d prefer to stand, if it’s all the same to you, sir.’

  The Master planted his hands on his hips. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t want to get my new cloak dirty.’

  Scott was about to comment, but he abandoned the sentence when Kilt reached up, grabbed a good handful of Roland’s cloak and pulled him forcibly to the ground. ‘Oh, sit down, you great big puddenhead!’ she said, much to the mirth of the other recruits, who raised their sleeves to their mouths to smother their laughter. She gave Scott an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, sir.’

  He waved it aside and turned to Roland. ‘Can I get you a pillow?’

  ‘No, I should be okay now, thanks, sir,’ Roland replied, missing the Master’s intended sarcasm.

  Scott drew a patient breath. ‘Good. Now that we’re all settled, let’s get started.’ He reached beneath his tunic and slipped over his head a small metal figurine on a silver chain. He held it up for the recruits to see. ‘Behold, one of the Wardens.’

  There was a collective gasp as, with the exception of Caspan, everyone craned their necks forward, fascinated. The footpad was surprised that none of them had noticed the metal figurines the Duke and Morgan had been wearing around their necks last night. But then again, Caspan mused, none of the recruits had spent seven years in the Black Hand, fine-tuning their senses to instinctively detect jewellery and money pouches.

  Kilt sat up on her knees, her gaze locked onto the figurine. ‘Can you summon it?’

  ‘What’s its name?’ Sara asked.

  Roland reached out eagerly. ‘Can it breathe fire?’

  Scott raised a hand, silencing any further questions. ‘All in good time. But first, I want to tell you a little about Wardens.’ He let the figurine dangle down the front of his tunic and knelt before the recruits. ‘As you were informed last night, we search Dray burials for magical items and weapons. If it’s a royal tomb, we often find a Warden hanging around the neck of the mummified king.’

  Sara turned up her nose. ‘Charming.’

  ‘All of the weapons and rings we find are handed to King Rhys, who in turn passes them on to the commanders of the northern legions,’ the Master continued. ‘We also pass on any Wardens we find.’ He paused and regarded the recruits with a secretive look. ‘But King Rhys allows each member of the Brotherhood to keep one magical companion as a reward for our work. The Wardens move much faster than horses and are extremely useful when travelling long distances. They’re also vicious fighters, and are helpful in protecting us against any hostile forces we might encounter.’

  Kilt could barely control her excitement. ‘So we each get to keep one?’

  The Master nodded, and had to wait some time for everyone to settle down. ‘Your Warden will become your closest companion. It will be totally loyal to you, follow your every command, and will gladly lay down its life to defend you. Master Morgan and I will teach you how to train your Wardens, but how skilled they become will ultimately depend on how much time you are prepared to spend with them.’ He raised a cautionary finger. ‘But I must warn you, these are not toys. Wardens are extremely powerful. Treat them with kindness and respect at all times.’

  Roland fussed over a spot of dirt on the hem of his cloak, then pointed at the Master’s Warden. ‘So how does it work, sir?’

  Scott took the figurine between his thumb and forefinger and held it close to the recruits. ‘This is a metal representation of the creature it summons from a magical plane. The figurines are soul keys, unlocking a portal to the plane, through which the Wardens can travel into our world. You must take great care of your soul key. Should it break, the link to your Warden will be lost forever. It will remain trapped in the magical plane, never to be summoned again. Should your Warden ever get injured, it must be dismissed back into the magical plane to heal.’ He rose. ‘But perhaps it’s best if I give you a qui
ck demonstration of how the figurines work.’

  He motioned for them to remain seated and walked back several yards. Raising his soul key to his lips, the Master whispered a faint command. There was a puff of blue smoke several yards to his left. It expanded and curled up, taking the form of a great beast. Out of this materialised the most amazing thing Caspan had ever seen. His jaw dropped in awe as he stared at it, ­dumbfounded.

  A drake had suddenly appeared!

  Caspan had never seen such a creature in true form before. For that matter, as far as he knew, nobody had, for well over a hundred years. Drakes were smaller relatives of the dragons that lived in the frozen wastes of Vorsklagov, the easternmost of the Four Kingdoms. The only other time he’d seen a drake was on a tapestry being sold in a market. It was laying waste to a village, setting houses ablaze with its fiery breath and sending warriors flying through the air with a swipe of its scaly tail.

  The drake in front of them was perhaps the length of two horses, but with a forked tail that was twice as long and lolled lazily across the ground. It stood as tall as Scott, and its leathery wings were folded by its side. The drake was covered in dark blue scales, which turned into a turquoise colour on its belly and the underside of its wings. It also had a silvery-white strip of scales that ran down the bridge of its snout.

  It nuzzled its head against the Master, who tickled it under the chin. ‘This is Shimmer,’ he said, glancing over at the apprentices. ‘She’s been my closest friend for the past three years. We’ve been on many adventures together, and I’m sure we’ll have many more yet.’

  Kilt was enchanted. ‘She’s absolutely beautiful.’

  Scott smiled proudly. ‘I think so too.’ He chuckled. ‘And so does Shimmer, for that matter. One of her favourite pastimes is staring at her own reflection in pools of water.’ The drake growled gently and nudged him on the shoulder. He gave her a playful scowl. ‘Don’t you dare deny it, my vain friend. If I could take back all the time I’ve waited for you as you admired your reflection, we could have already explored every tomb in Andalon.’

  The drake turned her head away from the apprentices, seemingly embarrassed. Caspan had heard that drakes were extremely intelligent, and wondered if she could understand what they were talking about.

  ‘Are all the Wardens drakes?’ Lachlan asked.

  Scott shook his head. ‘No. Master Morgan and Duke Connal have wolves. Another member of our order has a bear.’

  Roland arched his eyebrows. ‘A bear – now that would be impressive. Nobody would dare mess with you.’ He flicked away a leaf that clung to his pants. ‘For how long can you summon Shimmer?’

  ‘For as long as I want,’ Scott replied. ‘But most Wardens become homesick after a few days. I find it’s best to call on her for only a few hours at a time. We often go for an evening ride over the forest to the south of the House of Whispers.’

  Kilt clasped her hands together. ‘You can ride her?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She slapped her thigh. ‘Then it’s decided. I want a drake too!’

  Roland’s eyes lit up. ‘And so do I, sir. Although, I wouldn’t say no to a bear.’

  ‘Wardens only ever obey one master at a time. Fortunately, we have five spare magical guardians.’ Scott patted a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. ‘I have them in here.’

  Roland nudged Lachlan, who was sitting beside him. ‘That’s one for each of us.’

  Lachlan gave him a mock impressed look. ‘Thanks for telling me that.’

  ‘No problem,’ Roland said with a wink and a click of his tongue.

  Scott rolled his eyes and shook his head. He raised Shimmer’s soul key to his lips, whispered a command and the drake disappeared in a puff of blue smoke. ‘I’m sure you’re wondering how we’ll decide who gets to choose their Warden first?’ he said to the recruits. ‘Well, we’re going to have a test.’

  Kilt moaned and slumped her shoulders. ‘How did I know you were going to say that?’

  Roland flexed his hands and grinned at her. ‘Scared I’ll beat you again?’

  Kilt bristled. ‘Bring it on, puddenhead.’

  Roland brushed her challenge aside with a wave. ‘Please, I could give you a five-day headstart and I’d still win. And just for the record, you are a far greater ­puddenhead than me.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  Roland grinned. ‘Most definitely, oh, yeah!’

  His imitation of Kilt’s voice was first class, and Caspan smirked. It wasn’t missed by Kilt, who stared daggers his way. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she demanded before muttering something under her breath.

  Caspan drew breath to respond but thought better of it and turned away.

  Roland shot her an unimpressed look. ‘He was laughing at you, you big goose!’

  Scott raised a hand before Kilt could respond. ‘That’s enough.’ He waited for them to settle down before he pointed at the five chests. ‘Inside each of these is an item. The first recruit to open a chest and bring me one of the items will get the first pick of the Wardens. The second person to bring me an item will get the next pick, and so on.’

  Roland considered the chests and shrugged. ‘Is that all?’

  Caspan had come across one or two chests like this before, with three-digit combination padlocks, and knew that they would be extremely difficult to open. There was also a keyhole that could be used to override the combination. But that required a key, and Caspan very much doubted they’d simply be handed one. Nor could the chests be broken open, for they were reinforced with iron bands.

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as you think, Roland,’ he warned.

  Roland snorted. ‘Fiddlesticks! My grandmother could do this blindfolded.’

  ‘So she’s a master thief?’ Caspan asked.

  ‘No. She’s as blind as a bat.’ Roland grinned. ‘But she makes great sausages.’

  Scott rolled his eyes again and directed the recruits’ attention back to the chests. ‘You may try to open them any way you like.’

  ‘So we can try breaking them, sir?’ Lachlan asked hopefully, flexing back his broad shoulders.

  Scott nodded. ‘I don’t care how you do it.’ He pulled out sealed pieces of parchment from the inside of his cloak and handed one each to the recruits. ‘You may use these to help you in your endeavour. They contain the same set of clues. If you can decrypt them, you’ll be rewarded with the numbers to open the combination locks. Alternatively, you will find keys to the chests over there.’ He turned and pointed south at a distant tower, its turret rising above the forest. ‘They are hanging on the front door.’

  Kilt stared at the tower. ‘That’s quite far.’

  Scott nodded. ‘And that’s where the challenge lies. Will you try breaking the code, or run all the way over to get a key?’

  Roland grinned at Kilt, yawned and tilted his head towards the tower. ‘Want a piggyback?’ he taunted.

  Kilt’s lips tightened into a narrow line. ‘That’ll be the day!’

  Roland smirked roguishly and was about to respond, when Master Scott interrupted. ‘Any further questions?’ The recruits glanced at one another before looking back at him and shaking their heads. ‘Good. Let’s get started.’

  Scott jogged over to the weapons racks, waited for the group to signal that they were ready, then gave the command to begin.

  The recruits tore open their letters, but Caspan didn’t bother, screwing his up and tossing it aside. It would be just his luck that the note was written in an ancient language. He wasn’t too worried, though. He had another plan in mind, and it didn’t involve decrypting messages or running all the way over to the tower. Caspan was going to employ his thieving skills to pick the lock.

  He’d picked dozens before. Most of the ones he’d broken into had simple locks, and he’d done this without even the assistance of a light, working under the cover of night’s black mantle. And, as difficult as the three-digit combination lock was, he reckoned he had a far better c
hance of picking it than sprinting after a key. This was going to be a race against time, and he chose the odds that offered him the best chance of winning.

  He spared a glance at his fellow recruits, curious as to what they were doing. Sara was pacing back and forth, scanning the clues on the parchment, whispering silently to herself. Kilt took off towards the tower almost as soon as she opened her letter. Roland chased after her only a few seconds later, laughing joyously, much to Kilt’s concern, who kept peering over her shoulder, alarmed by how quickly he was narrowing her lead. Lachlan, on the other hand, headed off in the opposite direction, sprinting back towards the House of Whispers.

  Caspan knelt before one of the chests and turned his attention to the lock.

  He could try placing his ear against it, hoping to hear the faint click of the internal pins when they slotted into place as he slowly rotated the three separate combination wheels. In the dead of the night, when the world was silent, he usually tried this technique first, often with great success. But that wasn’t going to work here; not out in the open, where all he could hear was Roland’s laughter and Sara’s footsteps. Instead, he’d need to use his thieves’ tools.

  He would unwind one of the small pieces of wire he kept wrapped around his belt, make some jagged kinks in it and fold it in half. Then he’d jiggle it, bent-end first, into the keyhole. He’d insert the thin blade of his stiletto between the two sections of wire, forcing them to interact with the internal lock mechanism. By gently lifting and lowering the upper and lower arms of wire, he’d try to manoeuvre them into position, slotting them into where the teeth of a key would catch. Then he’d simply push his stiletto in deeper and rotate the section of wire, opening the lock.

  In theory, it was simple. But the pressure was on.

  Drawing a deep breath to steady his nerves, Caspan began fiddling with the pieces of wire. After a few minutes Lachlan returned, armed with a hammer that he must have taken from the stable. He started to pound the lock. As strong as the chest was, Caspan doubted the padlock would last long against Lachlan’s powerful blows. To make matters worse, a minute or two later Roland burst free from the woods. He raced across the field, hollering triumphantly and holding above his head what Caspan could only imagine was a key. He was followed shortly by Kilt, who tore after him, silent and determined. A quick glance at Sara revealed that, by the excited look on her face, she had almost solved the code.