by A. C. Cobble
Though, now he had access to mages. He looked at Amelie out of the corner of his eye and decided he’d still buy the device and whatever else he saw that might come in handy.
“I hope they have food,” said Amelie, glancing wistfully at a small stove a woman was hovering over, cracking eggs into an iron pan.
“These places always have free food,” said Rhys over his shoulder. “A nice little buffet, usually.”
“Free food?” asked Prem, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, free is relative,” explained Rhys, either ignoring or not picking up on the girl’s displeasure. “They won’t charge you directly for it, but rest assured, they’ll find other ways to get their fingers into your coin purse.”
“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,” huffed Prem, stepping right behind the rogue. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get their fingers caught somewhere they shouldn’t be.”
The rogue’s eyes stared straight ahead.
Ben shook his head and tried to remain focused. They hoped O’ecca’s agent would be able to tell them where the Veil was staying and what kind of security she had around the place. They knew Towaal would be held close by. It was possible that the Veil had decided holding her was too much trouble and had hurried an execution. Ben refused to think about that, though, and hoped that they would find her in good health and somewhere they could extract her safely.
They ducked into a wide alley amongst the carts and kiosks of the Stranger’s Market and found themselves standing in front of a tall, crimson tent. A narrow flap marked the entrance, and it was flanked by half a dozen heavily armed men. Even in the pre-dawn gloom, they appeared alert and prepared to bar entry into the tent, or to toss troublemakers out of it.
Rhys strode up confidently. The guards peered curiously over his shoulder at the girls. One spared a glance at Rhys then held up a hand. “You can’t come in here armed.”
“I’m with her,” said Rhys, hooking a thumb toward O’ecca.
The guards turned in unison and slowly took in O’ecca’s naginata, her black hair loosely piled up and held in place by two wooden sticks, her silk dress cut for movement and South Continent fashion, and the growing frown on her face.
“I have no idea who that is,” said one of the guards finally. “She can’t come in armed either.”
Sighing, O’ecca instructed the guard, “Go tell Madam Crimson that she has a visitor.”
“Madam Crimson gets a lot of visitors,” replied another one of the guards. “You’ll need to give us more than that.”
“O’ecca. Tell her O’ecca is here to see her.”
One of the men nodded and ducked inside.
“Quickly,” O’ecca called after him. “We’d like to be done before daylight.”
Ben glanced at the buildings surrounding the Stranger’s Market and thought that might be a vanishing proposition. Already, he could see a growing glow behind some of the eaves and between the openings where street or canal led to the market.
“Madam Crimson,” said Amelie while they waited. “Doesn’t that sound a bit… too easy?”
“It sounds mysterious to me,” offered Rhys.
“It sounds like it’s from the trashiest kind of story to me,” complained Amelie. Pointing at the tent, she said, “Look at that. Did she name herself after her favorite color of fabric? That’s like you naming yourself Master Lager. No one would take your seriously with a name like that, would they? I mean, can you even imagine a client coming up to you and saying, ‘Hello, Master Lager, we’d like you to go assassinate this lord.’ It’s ridiculous!”
Rhys stared back at Amelie, at a loss for words. Shifting uncomfortably, the guards outside of the tent pretended they weren’t hearing what she said.
Turning to them, Amelie continued, “I’m sorry. It’s just silly. Madam Crimson! Do you know anyone else named Crimson? I certainly do not.”
The men coughed and looked everywhere but back at her. Ben placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed a finger against his lips.
Amelie opened her mouth, but was interrupted when the first guard poked his head out of the tent and gestured for them to follow. His fellows all moved out of the way, and no one spoke when the party entered, O’ecca’s naginata leading the way.
There was a short hall made of thick fabric. Then, the tent opened into a large space that took up a third of the area under the canopy. It was scattered with low couches, pillows, and scantily clad women. Many of them were lounging beside men, and were draped over them like another layer of clothing. Ironic, thought Ben, as clothing was something a few of the women seemed to be missing. Other women moved amongst the crowd with heavy pitchers of wine and ale, dodging artfully and pouring liberally any time they saw a half-empty tankard.
“There,” whispered Rhys excitedly. “The buffet is at the back.”
“It is?” asked Ben, tearing his eyes away from the opposite end of the room where a woman danced on a stage. A veil covering her face, a flimsy scarf wrapped around her waist, and not another stitch of clothing was on her body. He glanced at Amelie to make sure he wasn’t caught staring, but her gaze was locked on a writhing couple on a nearby couch. Ben thought they should have long ago retired to a room.
The group passed through the open space quickly and entered the walled-off rear portion of the tent, which was separated into a number of different chambers. The sounds coming from behind closed flaps left little doubt about what was happening out of view.
Finally, the guard led them into a large room that was set up as an office. A simple table, a chair behind it, and two in front. A woman sat staring at them from behind steepled fingers. She was dressed in a thin crimson gown that was just as scandalous as the outfits the women up front were wearing. Ben felt his face flush as he tried to avert his eyes from the woman, while also ignoring the sounds coming from all around them.
“Please, take a seat,” murmured the woman, her voice like rich red wine pouring into a crystal glass.
O’ecca took one of the two open chairs, and the rest of the group looked at each other before Amelie rolled her eyes and took the second one. Ben stood behind her, shifting on his feet, pretending that he couldn’t hear half a dozen couples having vigorous sex just a few paces from him.
The woman, Madam Crimson, he supposed, rapped her knuckles loudly on her desk. Suddenly, the moans and cries of passion increased in volume.
“You may speak freely,” said the woman. “No one will hear you outside of this room.”
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” said O’ecca.
Madam Crimson smiled. “I know who you are, girl. You’re the one who helped thwart the Red Lord’s plot against the emperor. He put you at his right hand, and he sent you to Alcott as his emissary. King Saala, the Veil… it is getting very busy here in Fabrizo. As emissary, we were expecting you to arrive sooner or later.”
O’ecca nodded. “We came here after Whitehall.”
“I’m told there was a bit of a disruption in Whitehall,” said Madam Crimson. “Can you tell me about it, or was it after you left? That type of information is always valuable in my position. Knowing it first is also helpful in this position. With the right information, and knowing the other positions in the city—”
Ben guffawed, and everyone turned to look at him.
“She keeps saying the word position. I, ah…” He waved his hand at the walls around them. “It’s just… the word position.”
“The spying part of my position,” clarified Madam Crimson, rolling her eyes.
“Yes,” said O’ecca, ignoring Ben’s interruption. “I can give you details of what happened that no one outside of the Veil’s closest confidantes are aware of. There is more to it than is publicly known in Whitehall or amongst the leaders of the Alliance.”
Madam Crimson nodded, showing no surprise that O’ecca would be aware of more than Whitehall’s own highborn.
“But first,” continued O’ecca, “I need to find out where the Veil is staying
. I need to know the layout of the location, the number of men and mages she has around her, and everything you can tell me about the disposition of her forces and what they are doing in Fabrizo.”
The diminutive spear woman turned and winked at Ben.
“What?” he whispered.
“She said disposition,” remarked Amelie dryly.
“Ah,” said Ben with a grin. “Nicely done.”
A discreet cough drew their attention back to Madam Crimson. “That sounds like you are planning something dangerous. I warn you. Do not trifle with this woman, the Veil. We do not have mages in the Southern Continent, and I’m afraid not everyone knows of their—”
“I’m well aware of what the Veil is capable of,” interjected O’ecca.
Madam Crimson’s red lips pouted prettily. She challenged, “Does the emperor know of what you are intending? A move against the Veil is tantamount to declaring war against the most powerful organization on this continent. It should not be done lightly.”
“Nothing I do is done lightly,” assured O’ecca.
“Will you tell me of your plans, then?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot.”
The madam turned to study Ben and his friends, clearly understanding they were part of whatever plot O’ecca was hatching, but just as clearly having no idea what that plot might be. Ben thought it prudent not to mention that they were trying to rescue a former mage of the Sanctuary from the leader of the Sanctuary. When said like that, it seemed a high-risk, low-reward proposition. But he couldn’t leave Towaal behind, not after everything they’d been through. Not after the loyalty she’d shown him.
“The Veil is staying at one of the merchant’s palaces on the Street of Thorns,” offered the madam after a long pause. “I can get you some details on how many attendants she had when she arrived, but specifics about which ones are mages will be rather difficult. You understand that these women do not announce themselves or wear a uniform? They look just like you and me. My agents could speculate, but that is something we prefer not to do.”
“I understand,” responded O’ecca. She glanced at Amelie and then back at Madam Crimson. “I am sure you and your agents will give us the most detailed information you can, and will alert us where it is incomplete.”
“The Street of Thorns,” said Rhys suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
“I, ah, I do not know why it would sound familiar to you,” replied the Madam Crimson. “It is a famous street, though. It runs down the center of the most coveted island in the city. The only buildings on the street are very expensive palaces. No shopkeeper could afford space there, and hired guards keep away all of the vendor’s carts. Several of the most powerful merchants in the Guild reside there—”
“The Guild,” said Rhys, a grin growing on his face. He turned to Ben.
Frowning, Ben tried to guess at what his friend was… “Oh,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face. “I forgot about the Guild.”
“What guild?” asked Prem.
“The Merchant’s?” speculated O’ecca. “They rule Fabrizo.”
“Not the Merchant’s Guild,” said Rhys. He turned to Madam Crimson. “Am I right?”
“The location of the Thieves’ Guild headquarters is one of Fabrizo’s most closely guarded secrets,” answered Madam Crimson. “Only the elders in the guild and those close to achieving that status are allowed inside. Not even general guild members know the location. We are not certain, but we suspect there is a palace on the Street of Thorns which might be the place. Obviously, confirming that information would be incredibly dangerous. For generations, it seems, the thieves have hidden in plain sight.”
“Where is this potential guild headquarters located compared to the palace the Veil is staying in?” wondered Rhys.
“Next door,” answered Madam Crimson, an uncomfortable wince on her face.
Looking to Ben, Rhys claimed, “This couldn’t be more perfect.”
Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose to stem a sudden throbbing in his head, Ben responded, “I’m not sure what you are considering to be perfect about this.”
“You know the thieves, Ben. You can get us inside.”
“You are the one who knows the thieves!” exclaimed Ben, opening his eyes and scowling at his friend.
“Really?” said Rhys, crossing his arms. “I recall you were the one who guested with them.”
“Rhys!” protested Ben. “I would not say I was a guest there. Casper said that if we ever returned—"
“You spent the night in the secret headquarters of the thieves’ guild, which only the elders are allowed to know the location of, and you met their black knife Casper?” said Madam Crimson, her flat tone clearly showing her disbelief.
“Trust me,” responded O’ecca, glee bubbling in her voice. “If they say they stayed at the thieves’ guild, they did.”
“I can confirm the building the Veil is in, but the thieves…” said the madam, shaking her head.
“Ben knows which one it is,” drawled Rhys, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. “We can verify it ourselves.”
“So do you!” Ben snapped, glaring at the rogue. “You know exactly which building it is.”
“Look,” said Amelie, waving her hand to hush the two men. “Knowing the location of the Veil is the easy part of the battle. Getting Towaal out of there before the Veil realizes what is happening is going to be more difficult. Her location next door to a lair of thieves is interesting, but right now, we don’t know if it will help or hurt us. One thing we do know, between the Veil and the thieves, that street is likely to have more security than anywhere outside of the Citadel or the Sanctuary.”
“Is it a coincidence, do you think?” wondered Prem.
Ben frowned, scratching at his arm.
“Hold on,” said Madam Crimson, rubbing at her temples with long, elegant fingers. “You’re going to… steal someone from the Veil’s custody? She’s the most powerful mage in, well, in the world, I suppose. She’s surrounded by a dozen other mages, all of whom have been studying their craft for longer than I’ve been alive. That woman must have brought three hundred soldiers to Fabrizo, though why she needs them, I can’t imagine. She alone is more than enough to deter the boldest thief in this city. I may not know all of the thieves’ secrets, but I can tell you for certain, none of them are stupid enough to cross the Veil. And you’re telling me… This-This is madness!”
“I wonder,” said Rhys, rubbing two fingers on his chin. “The thieves may not be bold enough to attempt it on their own, but the opportunity to steal from the Veil…”
Madam Crimson stared at O’ecca then turned and eyed the entire party again. “It is probably best that I know as little bit about this as possible, but I cannot resist. Please, tell me what kind of plan you could possibly have to break into the Veil’s palace?”
“We’re not sure yet,” said Ben with a shrug. “We’ll think of something.”
“Think of something?” spluttered Madam Crimson.
“It’s not the first time we’ve snuck someone out from under the Veil’s nose,” added Ben. “Last time, I just kind of walked into the Sanctuary and did it. Really, it is getting away that is the hard part.”
“Getting away is always the hardest part,” agreed Rhys.
The madam’s jaw fell open, and Ben could tell they’d done enough damage to the woman’s psyche for one morning.
“I think we should go,” Ben suggested to his friends.
“I could use some rest. Then, we need a plan to reconnoiter the location,” said Amelie.
“There’s an inn I know about four islands away from the Street of Thorns,” mentioned Rhys. “Close enough we won’t have to go far, but far enough we shouldn’t accidentally bump into anyone. Unless we want to enjoy Madam Crimson’s hospitality for the rest of the day, that is.”
Amelie glanced between the rogue and the madam. “This pains me to say, but Rhys, lead u
s to this inn of yours.”
After getting a few more details, they left the madam shaking her head and staring at them incredulously. The sounds of frantic love-making died down as they passed into the main room, and the cacophony of the Stranger’s Market greeted them when they stepped into the bright, early morning sun.
“He was kidding about staying in there, wasn’t he?” Prem whispered to Amelie, glaring at the rogue’s back.
“Probably, but it’s hard to tell,” admitted Amelie.
“He was kidding,” said Ben, nudging Amelie. “With him, it’s just a lot of talk.”
Prem twisted her lips. Then, she hurried after Rhys, who was already weaving his way through the market. Amelie raised an eyebrow at Ben, and he nodded to Prem and Rhys, clapping his hands together. She stared at him, not understanding.
“Prem is interested in Rhys,” explained Ben. “You know, interested…”
“Obviously. What I’m confused about is why you’re trying to encourage that?” hissed Amelie.
“Well,” Ben replied, “he’s our friend.”
“So is Prem!”
O’ecca threw one arm around Amelie’s shoulder and one around Ben’s. “There’s never a dull moment with you, is there? I knew we were in for an adventure the moment I saw you in Whitehall. To think how stuffy I was when we first met. You really opened my eyes, you know? Showed me a side of the world and life that I had never experienced.”
“You’re welcome,” mumbled Ben.
“Everyone back at the emperor’s court is going to be jealous,” continued O’ecca. “All they ever do is read documents and mediate petty disputes between the lords. Getting drunk, fighting assassins, talking to whores, secret thieves’ lairs, stealing from the Veil…”
“You were the one who brought us to the whores,” complained Ben.
“We’d better go or we’ll lose them,” said Amelie, slipping out of O’ecca’s embrace and scurrying after Rhys and Prem.
“Be honest,” said O’ecca. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have found some way into a whorehouse. Or a whoretent, I guess. Is that what they call it? You know what I mean.”