Brotherhood of Thieves 1

by Stuart Daly

  Caspan swallowed. He’d never drawn a dagger on anybody. He had prided himself on his ability to steal purses without his victims ever knowing. ‘You don’t know me at all.’

  Kilt poked a finger at his chest. ‘You’ve got that right! Now get away from me. I don’t trust you, and I certainly don’t want to be your friend.’

  Caspan felt like walking away and abandoning the activity, but he would never give Kilt that satisfaction. He also didn’t want to give Scott the impression that he had surrendered on the task because it was too difficult. He wondered if the Master had paired them up in an attempt to force them to work together and resolve the tension that was brewing between them.

  Kilt hastily finished securing her grappling hook, swung it around her head several times in an ever-widening arc – deliberately forcing Caspan to take several cautious steps back – and sent it sailing up to the roof. Without properly testing her weight against the rope, she started to climb.

  She was almost at the top when disaster struck.

  The rope slipped free of the grappling hook. Kilt screamed and reached out desperately for the overhanging eave, but missed. Caspan and his friends froze, staring helplessly as she plummeted down the side of the building – only for her cloak to get snagged onto the edge of an open window. She came to a jarring halt, then hung there, dangling forty feet above the sandstone paving.

  Fortunately, Kilt’s cloak was tangled under her left armpit, saving her from being strangled. But she could not reach the window ledge. And her cloak was slowly tearing apart from where it was suspended.

  Master Scott barked orders at Kilt not to move. He whipped off his cloak and, holding one end, commanded Roland to pull tightly at the other to create a makeshift net, which they positioned beneath her. Gasping, Sara covered her mouth and buried her head in Lachlan’s chest.

  Caspan acted instinctively. He reached for his soul key, believing he could fly up to Kilt. But then he remembered that all the figurines had been handed over to Gramidge so that new, stronger chains could be secured to them after Roland had momentarily lost his soul key when his necklace snapped during an archery lesson.

  Fearing that Kilt might only have seconds, Caspan raced over to the second group’s rope. They had just secured it to the roof, and he used it to scurry up the side of the building. Within a few heartbeats he drew level with Kilt, but she was beyond his reach.

  Panicking, she reached out for him. Her cloak ripped again and she dropped a few more inches. She screamed and reached out further, clawing the air as she tried to grab hold of Caspan.

  ‘Don’t move!’ Caspan ordered. ‘I’ll get to you. But you’ve got to stop moving.’

  He pushed himself off the wall in Kilt’s direction, swinging out to the left, then used his momentum to swing back to the right. He kicked off the wall again and drew desperately close to Kilt. Just as he was about to grab her, Kilt’s cloak tore free from the window. For a terrible moment their eyes locked. Then she fell.

  Caspan made a frantic, last-ditch effort to grab her hand. He missed. Instead, he caught hold of the tail-end of her cloak. The weight of her falling body almost ripped Caspan from the wall, but he managed to swing Kilt over towards his rope. She caught hold and clung for dear life, terrified.

  It took Kilt a while to recover from her near-death experi­ence. Then slowly, carefully they climbed back down.

  Sara ran over and hugged them both. When she moved back from Caspan, the collar of his tunic was damp with her tears. ‘You were amazing!’ she said.

  Lachlan clapped him on the back. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’

  Roland appeared beside the muscular recruit. ‘I was just about to do the same thing. Only I planned on doing it hanging upside-down and with my eyes closed. Now that would have been impressive.’ He ducked a back-handed clip over the head from Lachlan, looked at Caspan and grinned. ‘Seriously, a great job, Cas.’

  Scott pushed past them to check on Kilt. He clasped Caspan’s hand and shook it, then turned to the green-eyed girl. ‘You’re lucky to be alive, Kilt. Let that be a lesson to you. Always check your equipment thoroughly.’ He jerked his chin at Caspan. ‘You owe him your life.’

  Kilt wiped her sleeve across her nose and sniffed as she glanced at Caspan, but she refused to look him in the eye. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, then started to walk away.

  Roland stared incredulously at her. ‘That’s it? You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Kilt stopped to regard him. ‘Caspan risked his life to save you. If it weren’t for him you’d be as flat as a pancake right now – and a very dead one at that! How about you show a little gratitude?’

  Kilt shrugged. ‘I said thanks. What else do you want me to do? Kiss his feet?’

  ‘Yes! And you can also serve him breakfast for the next sixty years. He just saved your life!’

  Caspan placed a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Let it go, Roland. It’s not worth the effort.’

  Roland looked at him dismissively. ‘No, I’m sorry, Cas. She has treated you like dirt since we first came here, and you’ve been so undeserving.’ He glared at Kilt. ‘It’s no great secret you don’t like pickpockets. Perhaps one wronged you before joining the Brotherhood. Maybe you just don’t like them because they’re forced to live off the streets and skulk in sewers. But I don’t care. That’s no reason to hold a grudge against Caspan. He risked his life for you, and you just turn your back and walk away as if nothing happened, you ungrateful puddenhead!’

  Kilt stared defiantly at Roland and drew breath to say something but thought better of it, exhaled deeply and lowered her eyes. She stared at the ground, and chewed her top lip in thought before glancing up at Caspan. Kilt regarded him for a moment, then crossed slowly towards him and extended her hand.

  ‘In spite of everything Roland said, I am grateful.’

  Caspan hesitated slightly before shaking her hand. ‘Think nothing of it. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.’

  But the doubtful look Kilt gave him as she withdrew her hand suggested that she wouldn’t have. The hostility and hatred were gone from her eyes, but Caspan could clearly detect mistrust there. Still, she’d taken the first step in overcoming her prejudice against him. There was hope that perhaps, one day, they’d be friends.

  ‘How about we finish up early this afternoon?’ Master Scott suggested to the recruits. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re keen for a rest. Put away the equipment, then go and clean up. But I need you back here in two hours.’

  Sara frowned. ‘Why?’

  The left side of the Master’s mouth curled mischiev­ously and he toyed at the paving with the toe of his boot. ‘Oh, I just thought you might like to have dinner at the Thirsty Wayfarer this evening.’ He smiled openly when the recruits hooted joyously. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  The Thirsty Wayfarer was the sole tavern in Uckfield Heath, the closest township, and was about a quarter of an hour away by horse. The recruits had accompanied Gramidge there several times to collect supplies for the kitchen, but they’d never entered the tavern before. They were keen to sample its honey cider, which the steward had told them was without par.

  Roland feigned indifference and yawned. ‘If you twist our arms, we might be interested.’ He winced as Lachlan clapped him over the head. Roland raised his hands protectively and took a step away from the larger boy. ‘Hey, what was that for?’

  ‘For being a goose.’ Lachlan looked to Scott. ‘What’s the special occasion, sir?’

  The Master considered each of the recruits in turn. ‘Some of you still have a few differences to sort out, but today marks the first day you’ve all come together as a team. I think you’ve every reason to celebrate.’ He winked at Caspan. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he added, addressing the recruits as a whole, ‘I’m trying to convince Master Morgan to let you join him on a special outing.’

  ‘To where?’ Roland asked warily. ‘I imagine the only place he’d want to take me to would be the city gaol, for
a one-way trip.’

  The Master chuckled quietly. ‘My lips are sealed. All will be revealed tomorrow.’ Whistling to himself, he walked off and left the group to wonder what awaited them.

  Roland raised his tankard of honey cider. ‘Here’s to us.’

  Caspan joined his fellow recruits in toasting to their coming together as a team. He lounged back in his seat, folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Lulled by the sound of crackling logs in the nearby hearth, his thoughts drifted back to the streets of Floran. His visits to taverns in the past usually meant scavenging through the scraps they tossed out onto the street after closing. All too often this resulted in a fight with a stray dog. Caspan couldn’t even remember the last time he’d sat down and ordered a proper meal.

  Roland nudged him. ‘Hey, don’t tell me you’re going to doze off, sleepy-bum. The night’s only just started.’

  Caspan smiled as he opened his eyes. ‘I was thinking about how much my life has changed since joining the Brotherhood. Only two months ago I didn’t know where my next meal was going to come from, and now look at me.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re stuck beside a sausage fanatic.’ Lachlan leaned across the table and regarded Roland’s plate. ‘You’ve been eating for over an hour and you’ve barely made a dint in that meal.’

  Roland smiled proudly. ‘I ordered the Farmer’s Platter For Four.’

  ‘For four!’ Lachlan poked a finger at one of the greasy sausages, a look of disgust on his face. ‘Look at the fat oozing out of that. I don’t know how you could eat one, let alone an entire plateful.’

  Roland picked up a sausage and threatened to hit Lachlan with it. ‘Never insult a sausage. They can be very sensitive. Now hurry up and apologise.’

  ‘To a sausage?’

  ‘This isn’t just any sausage. It’s Mr Tasty.’

  Lachlan laughed. ‘There’s no way I’m –’

  Roland whacked him on the arm, then raised Mr Tasty to deliver another attack. ‘Say the magic word or suffer the consequences!’

  Lachlan moved his tankard away from the heavy leatherbound volume Sara had brought along with her. She was always reading whenever she could, learning about the Dray and the history of the Four Kingdoms.

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’ Lachlan shook his head at Roland. ‘I can’t believe you’re bullying me with a sausage.’ There was a time when Lachlan would have clobbered the black-haired jester, Caspan knew, but now he just raised his hands in surrender.

  Roland rolled his eyes playfully at Caspan and took a bite out of Mr Tasty. ‘Honestly, the teenagers of today! No respect whatsoever.’

  Caspan laughed into his drink. ‘How do these sausages compare to your grandmother’s?’

  ‘Nothing compares to hers,’ Roland said wistfully.

  ‘You never think of home?’ Caspan lowered his voice so that Sara wouldn’t hear. She often spoke of her desire to visit her family, and spent most of her spare time in the library at the House of Whispers. Caspan was sure the smell of the parchments and texts reminded her of her archivist father.

  Roland’s look became distant as he rotated his tankard between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Sometimes.’ He gazed about the table, his eyes pausing briefly on each of his friends. ‘But I’ve got a new family now.’ He patted Caspan on the shoulder, and the former footpad smiled warmly in return. Roland’s eyes narrowed as he leaned over Kilt’s plate. ‘What on earth did you get?’ he asked.

  She prodded a piece of fish with her fork. ‘I’m not too sure. It sounded good when the waitress described it.’

  Roland screwed up his nose. ‘It smells like something crawled up and died in that meal.’

  Caspan had to agree. Whereas the other dishes they’d ordered had been of a high standard, Kilt’s looked about as appetising as slops in a dog’s bowl.

  She pushed her plate aside. ‘Thanks. That’s all I needed to hear.’

  Roland smirked. ‘I’m only trying to save you from a terrible night of indigestion.’

  Caspan pushed his half-eaten meal in front of Kilt. ‘Here. I’m done.’

  Kilt studied the plate suspiciously before looking up at him. ‘Why would you give me your food?’ She raised a hand in apology when she saw the disappointment on his face. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I couldn’t fit in another mouthful.’ Caspan rubbed his stomach.

  Kilt shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ She devoured the food, swabbing up the sauce with chunks of bread.

  Caspan turned to Roland. ‘You haven’t heard anything more about Morgan’s mysterious outing?’

  Scott had ridden with the recruits out to Uckfield Heath to collect food supplies, and Roland had pestered the Master for the entire trip, questioning him about the excursion. All he got for his efforts was to be sent to ride at the rear of the group to give Scott some peace and quiet.

  Roland was tracing his finger along a grain-line on the table. He glanced up and shook his head. ‘No. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. Still, I wish we were going with Scott. Morgan’s got it in for me.’

  Caspan grinned. ‘Only because you’re always getting into trouble.’

  ‘He hasn’t let up on me since that day I threw dirt in Kilt’s face.’ Roland sighed.

  Caspan pulled a mock sad face. ‘You poor thing. And, of course, you’ve done nothing to aggravate him.’

  ‘I’m as innocent as a newborn.’

  Caspan cocked an eyebrow. ‘Oh, really? So we should just turn a blind eye to the time you filled Kilt’s boots with mud, or the time you hid her clothes? Both occasions you were caught by Morgan.’

  ‘Or what about the time you greased the handle of her favourite training sword?’ Lachlan asked, joining in on their discussion.

  Roland grinned. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your hearing, is there, big ears?’

  The muscular boy winked at Caspan, then turned to Roland. ‘At least I don’t have a voice that sounds like a bleating goat. I’m surprised none of the other patrons have asked to have you removed from the tavern and taken back to the barnyard.’

  Roland slapped his hands on the table and roared in mock laughter. ‘You’re so very funny, my large friend.’ He wiped a fake tear from his eye. ‘Oh, by the way, I suppose congratulations are in order.’

  Lachlan shook Roland’s proffered hand, his forehead creasing in confusion. ‘For what?’

  ‘Don’t act dumb with me, Timmity Tom.’ A roguish smirk formed on Roland’s lips. ‘Word on the street is that you’ve finally developed a personality.’

  Before Roland had time to react, Lachlan leaned across the table, grabbed him in a headlock and tousled his hair. ‘Consider yourself lucky I’m in a happy mood. Otherwise, I’d use your head for weapons practice.’

  ‘Hey, go easy.’ Roland broke free from Lachlan’s grasp and fixed his hair. ‘It’s hard looking this handsome all the time.’

  Kilt rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please.’

  ‘It’s not my fault I was born attractive.’ Roland sighed in exasperation.

  ‘And so modest, too. Don’t forget that,’ Sara added with undisguised sarcasm.

  ‘But of course.’ Roland gazed at the letter she’d been writing since they’d first arrived at the tavern. It now lay folded inside her book. ‘Is that another message to your father?’

  ‘I only write once a week,’ Sara said, a little offended. She patted the cover of the book and smiled. ‘There’s only a month of training left to go. Then I’ll be heading home for two weeks. I can’t wait to see my parents again.’

  Roland frowned. ‘What? So we’re not good enough for you?’

  Lachlan exhaled wearily. ‘A day – no, an hour – with you is enough to send anybody crazy!’

  ‘An hour? Try a minute!’ Kilt scoffed.

  ‘How’s that for appreciation?’ Roland said to Caspan. ‘I go out of my way to add some entertainment to their otherwise boring lives, and look at the thanks I get!’

  Caspan laughed and raised his hands. ‘Hey, don’t drag me
into this.’

  ‘What makes you so sure we’ll be getting a fortnight’s leave?’ Roland asked. ‘Don’t forget that we’ve still got to pass the Masters’ tests at the end of our training. ­Otherwise, we won’t be going anywhere. Scott told me that we’d have to do another month of training before we could try the tests again.’

  ‘We’ll make sure we don’t fail,’ Sara remarked ­determinedly.

  ‘Well, whenever we end up passing and getting our leave, I know I won’t be heading home,’ Kilt said sourly. ‘I’ll be staying at the House of Whispers.’

  ‘Then it looks as if it might be just us two left behind,’ Caspan replied.

  Kilt shrugged. ‘Please yourself.’

  Sara gave Caspan a curious look. ‘So you won’t see your family?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have no brothers or sisters, and I lost my parents some time ago. Life can be tough when you’re young and there’s no one to look after you. That’s why I ended up joining the Black Hand.’

  Sara clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘I don’t think any of us did,’ Kilt muttered.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Caspan said. ‘I didn’t know where I’d end up for a while there, but I guess it’s all turned out for the best.’

  Sara turned to Kilt. ‘You weren’t joking before, were you? You genuinely dislike your parents.’

  Kilt scowled. ‘Dislike isn’t a powerful enough word to describe what I think of them. I hope I never see them again.’

  ‘That’s terrible! Whatever did they do to you?’

  ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’ Kilt forced a smile. ‘Besides, I thought we came here to celebrate. So no more talk about parents or home or upcoming tests. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for one evening.’

  Lachlan rapped his knuckles on the table. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He waved towards the serving counter, catching the barmaid’s attention. ‘Another round of tankards, please.’ He nestled back in his seat and smiled at his friends. ‘Let’s make this a night to remember.’

  After finishing their meals, the companions stayed in the tavern, talking and laughing about the times they’d shared since beginning their training. About an hour later, a lute player and a female singer emerged from the bar. At first they played lively tunes, and Roland, much to the amusement of the other patrons, climbed on the table and danced, tapping his heels and swirling the hems of his imaginary dress.