Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  Rhys shouted, “Come on out! There’s about to be a mage battle in your foyer. I know you are listening!”

  Suddenly, a man appeared in front of them from an open doorway. He held a short, blackened crossbow in his hands and had dozens of knives strapped to his body. He nodded in acknowledgement of the rogue. “Rhys.”

  “Cogdill,” responded the rogue. “It’s been a long time. I hope you knew we were coming.”

  “We received your note, but I am a cautious man. I figured I would keep it from Casper and let him talk to you, to see how serious you were. Tell me, did you mean what you said in the note?”

  “Sorry if it didn’t make sense. He wrote it,” apologized the rogue, hooking a thumb toward Ben. “We need to get into the building next door and then vanish with a person we’ll extract from there.”

  “You plan to assault the Veil’s residence, steal a person, escape with them, and the first thing you did was walk by her front door? Tell me you have a plan, Rhys.”

  “We hoped you would help with the plan,” suggested Ben. “We did say we would be coming by.”

  Cogdill blinked at him.

  “Time is a factor,” reminded Rhys. “I’m guessing you’ve got at least two-dozen highly skilled thieves in this building. Where are they?”

  “Why would we help you?” asked the man.

  “The Veil has an artifact on her called a repository,” said Ben. “This one is the most powerful of its kind. Its value is limitless to the right person.”

  “Only a mage can use a repository,” said Cogdill, his eyes looking over Ben’s shoulders at the front door. “Besides, I don’t care what you say. We’re not going to steal an object off the Veil’s person. I’m a thief, not a fool.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “There are mages on the Coalition Council,” said Ben, speaking quickly. “I can give you their names. This device has no peer. Its value to them would be unfathomable.”

  “Plus, whatever else the leader of the Sanctuary travels with,” added Rhys. “Imagine what kind of documents her secretary has in her satchel. Highly portable secrets only the Veil and her closest associates know. Imagine what you could learn, who you could sell it to, who you could blackmail.”

  The knocker banged on the door, and a voice shouted from outside.

  “Let’s go,” said Cogdill, spinning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he asked, “You know how to harden your will?”

  “Why does everyone keep—” exclaimed O’ecca.

  “We do,” interjected Ben.

  “They’ll know the moment we violate their wards,” said Cogdill, darting through a doorway to a set of broad, stone stairs. Shouts and more bangs came from the front door. “If you have sufficient will, you might survive the death wards.”

  “What did you say?” asked O’ecca, her voice an octave higher than Ben recalled.

  “Stay close to me,” instructed Prem.

  “They’ll be through that front door in moments,” warned Rhys.

  “They’ll get inside the foyer, and the soldiers will be stopped there,” replied Cogdill. “We prepared for this just in case you were serious.”

  “What about the mages?” asked Amelie.

  “We will deal with them as well. Our preparations against magical attack are entirely defensive, but it will give us time,” replied the thief, taking them down two levels and then into an unadorned stone hallway that felt uncomfortably familiar to Ben. “We began formulating a plan the moment we got your note. When we saw you crossing to this island, we began our evacuation protocol. Most of the truly valuable artifacts in this building are already gone. The only remaining personnel are tasked with defense. They will hold until the charges are lit. After that, the building will be destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?” asked Ben.

  Cogdill didn’t answer.

  “But you are helping us,” said Rhys. “Why do that instead of, say, carrying out an armful of that silver I saw in the hallway?”

  “You had me at ‘the Veil’s private documents’,” admitted the thief. “The repository she carries would fetch an incredible price from a rogue mage or the Coalition, but the documents… The potential bidding for that information on the black market would be unprecedented.”

  “I’m sorry I hit Casper earlier,” apologized Rhys.

  Cogdill snorted. “No you aren’t. If he doesn’t regain consciousness soon, he’ll get what he deserves when those soldiers stomp over him to get inside.”

  “I thought he was your enforcer,” remarked Ben.

  “He’s our head-basher,” rejoined Cogdill, “a public decoy in case anyone thinks to strike at our guild. He’s not even an elder.” The thief stopped at a simple wooden doorway, studying the party. “Rhys the assassin, a lady from the South Continent who must be the emissary everyone is speculating about, another highborn but from Alcott… Lady Amelie perhaps? A farm boy we once hosted in a makeshift cell in this very building, and… What are you, miss? I am very good at this, but I’m afraid I cannot place you. You aren’t of the Sanctuary, but I sense magical potential.”

  Prem smiled back at the thief and didn’t respond.

  “Glad to know we can keep at least one secret,” muttered Rhys.

  “Miss,” said Cogdill to Prem, “with what we’re about to walk into, I need to know everyone is capable.”

  “She can handle herself,” assured Ben.

  “The farm boy is the leader now,” remarked the thief, rolling his shoulder and opening his quiver. “I suppose it’s not my concern if you die in the next few moments, but I hope you’re prepared.”

  Shouts drifted down from the upstairs hallway.

  “We should go,” murmured Ben.

  Cogdill shook his head. “Give it a moment. We want maximum chaos. As much distraction as we can achieve before we go in. Right now, they’re watching this place, wondering why you came in. They might know who we are, they might not. If we assault their palace right now, they’ll be ready. We won’t last more than two dozen heartbeats, so we wait.”

  Ben frowned and let his hand settle on the hilt of his longsword. Rhys and Prem drew their long knives. O’ecca held her naginata cross-wise in front of her, but Ben knew it’d be next to useless in the narrow confines of the hallways. Amelie closed her eyes and began to whisper to herself, one hand tucked into her belt pouch.

  The thief Cogdill watched Amelie as he fished a quarrel out of his quiver. Ben frowned. It looked like a normal crossbow bolt, but on the tip was a clay bulb. The man winked at Ben and replaced the steel-headed bolt that had been locked on his weapon. He tucked that one in a second quiver and cocked the new missile.

  “It will make a big boom,” he explained with a wink.

  Upstairs, Ben heard the crash of shattering wood and then a scream of pain.

  “They have no idea what they just walked into,” said Cogdill, a manic grin splitting his face. “We always knew there’d come a day when it was time to disappear from this building. Traps we’ve had in place since before I became a thief and now finally a chance to see what they can do.”

  Another nervous moment passed as the sounds of combat bounced down the stairwell and stone hallway. With each clash of steel and injured scream, Ben felt the tension grow in his body. Suddenly, there was a sharp crackle of released energy.

  “That was a mage,” murmured Amelie, her eyes still closed. “There’s at least one of them in the hallway upstairs.”

  “Time to go,” announced Cogdill.

  He flung open the door and grabbed an unlit torch from the wall inside. He ducked out and lit it from a lantern in the hallway and then led them into the darkness. They entered a narrow stairwell that had steep steps and a strange odor. It hovered between old fish, human waste, and dust.

  “Are we going to the sewers?” fretted Amelie.

  “Not quite,” said the thief.

  The door behind them hung open, and Ben heard footsteps coming down the hall.

  “Don’t
worry,” said the thief. “They’re with us.”

  Half a dozen steps past the doorway, Ben noticed a faint shimmer on the walls.

  “Wards,” hissed Amelie. “They’re… destructive.”

  “They are ours,” acknowledged the thief Cogdill from ahead of them. “When the building blows, I hope those wards will seal this passageway and hopefully any sign it ever existed. We’ve never been able to try it out, of course.”

  Ben thought the man sounded surprisingly gleeful at the prospect of his headquarters self-destructing. Then, he thought about what an enterprising gang of thieves could do with personal items stolen off the Veil. A couple of silver candlesticks were nothing compared to the wealth they could achieve in the next half-bell if everything went according to plan. A big if, thought Ben.

  The sounds of fighting faded as they went deeper and deeper underneath the palace. Soon, the walls gained a wet sheen in the torchlight, and Ben realized they were passing below sea level.

  “Watch your step. It’s slick,” called the thief ahead of them. “And from now on, I recommend we stay as silent as possible.”

  No one voiced any objections, and they descended another three flights of stairs. The only sounds were their cautious footsteps on the wet stone steps and the shuffle of movement behind them. The smell of the canals permeated the space.

  Finally, several floors below where Ben thought the water level was, they entered a dark tunnel. It extended in both directions, and in the flickering light of the torch, Ben could see openings which he assumed led to more branches.

  “How is this possible?” wondered Amelie, looking back and forth in the darkness.

  “A millennia of careful construction and concealment,” remarked Cogdill. “This is one of the reasons no one but the elders are allowed into our headquarters. It holds one of the few obvious doors into this network, and it’s the chief reason that building above us is about to be destroyed.”

  “Do you have an entrance to the Veil’s palace from here?” wondered Ben.

  “No, unfortunately not,” responded the thief, “but we do have one into the building on the other side of it, which we also control. The Veil and her men will be watching our palace, knowing you entered. When we come in from a different angle, hopefully, we can surprise them.”

  “They’ll still sense our entrance,” warned Amelie.

  Cogdill nodded, the torch bobbing with his movement. “That is why within a few moments, our building will explode, and thieves will swarm the Veil’s palace. With any luck, we’ll be just one more pack of rats scurrying around in confusion.”

  “And you planned all of this since you received our note this morning?” wondered Ben.

  Cogdill didn’t respond.

  “You were planning this assault since before we arrived,” guessed Rhys.

  “We didn’t know if we’d get a chance to implement it,” admitted Cogdill, moving again, leading them down the tunnel. “We always make plans, though. It’s good practice, and you never know when an opportunity will present itself. On a target like the Veil, of course we made a plan. Do you have any idea how rare it is that the woman is outside of the Sanctuary? The artifacts she has with her... Well, let’s say there was already a hotly contested debate about whether it was worth sacrificing our headquarters. When we got your note, it was simply a matter of ensuring you were serious and incorporating you into existing plans.”

  “You needed us to deal with the magic,” guessed Amelie.

  Chuckling, Cogdill admitted, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m afraid it’s worse. We have some talented members who can distract the mages. They can’t stand against the power of the Sanctuary, but they can make enough noise before they vanish. What we do not have is a place far enough away to hide from the Veil. If we stole from her, wherever we ran, she would track us down. That’s where you’ll come in. If any of us survive this, I expect that woman and all of the might of the Sanctuary will be looking for you. Any petty thievery we manage will be blamed on you or forgotten. Think you can keep her distracted for us?”

  “We’ll do our best,” muttered Ben.

  “I’m sensing a theme here,” whispered Prem behind him.

  “Everyone just assumes other people will want to kill Ben,” replied Rhys, his voice pitched just loud enough Ben could hear it.

  He tried to ignore the rogue and kept following Cogdill down the tunnel. Two hundred paces further, they found another flight of stairs that led up.

  “A few more moments for everyone to get in position. Then, we’ll need to be very quiet when we get up there,” advised Cogdill.

  The man shifted his grip on his blackened crossbow and waited. He looked to be counting. When he was satisfied it had been long enough, he started climbing the stairs. Ben and his friends tagged along, carefully feeling the steps in the darkness. Behind them, as the torchlight disappeared up the stairwell, Ben caught a glimpse of half a dozen shapes following them. Faces masked, the men looked uncomfortably similar to the assassins they’d faced in Whitehall, but Ben knew these were the Elders of the Fabrizo Thieves’ Guild. The best in the world at their trade, and they were prepared to stage an assault on the Veil right next door to their own lair.

  Ben was curious to see what they could do.

  They made it up the stairs and paused behind Cogdill as he poked his head out the door. He motioned them forward, and they entered a sparsely used storage room which they passed through into a hallway similar to the one in the Thieves’ Guild. Instead of taking them upstairs, though, their guide led them down the hall to where a stout wooden door took up the entire end of the corridor. He slid a bolt and cautiously opened the door. In front of him, Ben saw the lapping waves of a canal and a small wooden pier which boats could tie to. It was the delivery entrance to the palace.

  “When we get in,” whispered Cogdill, “we’ll split up. Best of luck making your escape. Don’t come back near these tunnels, and don’t come looking for me. I hope you understand that if we see you again, we’ll have to put a knife into you.”

  “Thanks for your help,” grumbled Ben.

  Cogdill winked at him and then stepped out into the bright morning sun.

  Ben followed and immediately heard sounds of chaos coming from the opposite side of the building. It seemed there was quite a ruckus growing in the street, but on the canal, all was still quiet.

  Cogdill handed the torch back to Ben and slung his crossbow over his shoulder.

  The man jumped nimbly off of their pier to land a dozen paces away. He removed a small paper tube from his belt and set it against a door which led to the Veil’s palace. Unwinding a long cord from the tube, he jumped back and landed next to Ben.

  “We need to jump that?” asked Ben nervously.

  “Maybe,” responded Cogdill. He stood still, listening.

  Ben frowned, unsure what the man was waiting on. They were out in the open, in view if anyone from the palace looked down. A patio jutted out from the floor above them. Ben eyed it, swallowing nervously.

  “Should we—”

  An explosion tore through the air, followed by a quick succession of others. A shower of broken stone and mortar cascaded into the canal from where the Thieves’ Guild had once stood. A billowing cloud of dust swirled into the air, blocking the sun and throwing the day into shadow. Several more sharp concussions followed, and Ben stared dumfounded at the destruction. The building had simply imploded, barely damaging the structures beside it, but certainly killing whoever was inside.

  Cogdill winked at Ben. He stuck the cord he was holding into the flame of his torch, and Ben’s eyes widened when the strand caught, throwing off a sizzling shower of green sparks.

  “It’s treated with a special chemical,” explained the thief, dropping the cord into the canal. “You might want to step back into the hallway.”

  Ben stared in amazement as the cord continued to burn underwater.

  “Sorry,” said Cogdill, lightly pushing Ben through the doorway
back into the building. “I should have phrased that as, ‘you definitely want to step back into the hallway’.”

  Ben did as instructed, and a moment later, there was another explosion. The sturdy stone of the hallway didn’t move, but a cloud of dust rained down from the ceiling where the impact of the blast shook it free.

  “Street magic,” said the thief, wiggling his fingers at Amelie. “Stay here a moment while we clear the hallway.”

  He vanished back out into the sun, and a wave of masked figures squeezed around them. The elders of the thieves’ guild slipped outside and vanished, heading to the Veil’s palace.

  “Well,” whispered Rhys after a dozen heartbeats. “If we’re going to do it, I’d say now is the time.”

  Ben nodded and poked his head out the doorway.

  “Down there!” shouted a voice.

  Ben glanced up and saw an armored man standing on the patio, peering down at him and gesturing.

  “Damnit,” muttered Ben. He stepped out and saw the wooden pier which Cogdill had jumped onto earlier was missing. The exterior wall of the palace had been smashed, like from a giant fist. Loose chunks of stone and mortar hung from the wall, but it was now ragged where the explosion had torn away pieces of the building. It’d be an easy climb if the mortar didn’t give way underneath his hands and feet.

  Cursing to himself, Ben tossed the torch into the canal and set a foot against a blasted section of wall. He swung out, finding a handhold, and starting to scale sideways away from the pier, only the cloudy waters of the canal below him. He tried to ignore the growing shouts from the man above.

  “Towaal is going to be buying rounds for ages after this mess,” grumbled Rhys, climbing behind Ben.

  “You’re making a generous assumption that we actually pull this off,” responded Ben.

  “That bastard Cogdill knew the guards would come running at the sound of the explosion,” snarled Rhys, climbing carefully after Ben. “He knew they’d see us. We’ll be the ones they search for.”