Lawful Good Thief

by T L Ford

  "We've coins," Scott countered. "We're workin' men, after all. Our treat!" Her eyes widened and he quickly added, "Today only, though. Ain't gonna support you."

  She nodded and followed.

  They bought some bread and cheese, and even a few fruits, more than enough to go around. Angela and her mother didn't have that much between them for an entire week. She ate her fill and the boys didn't even seem to mind at all. "Where do you work?" she asked and was confused by their snickers.

  "Around town, here and there," Scott answered and then he leaned forward and whispered to her, "We're guildmembers. You could be one too, if you wanted, I'm sure. You run fast enough."

  "How much does it pay?" she asked. She'd already tried helping with fish hauls at one copper per week, which didn't pay enough to buy enough food to give her energy to unload more fish. She'd only found one fisher who'd been willing to hire a girl child anyway. It hadn't worked out and she'd smelled so badly of fish that her mother had commented. Were guildmembers some sort of delivery people? She knew that shops sometimes sent messages to each other, because her mother had sent messages to both of the town's fabric stores asking if she could post a notice about her dress-making.

  "More when ships from Rashesh are in town," Scott answered cryptically. "Anyway, it's time for us to go sleep for a bit. Come play with us tomorrow morning, if you like."

  She did, every morning that week. Each day, Scott paid for her lunch, saying it was for 'today only'. Once he even said that she 'helped', but that didn't make any sense at all. With the additional food, Angela found she had a lot more energy and was already starting to think more clearly. On the fourth day, she learned what Scott had meant. She saw him bump into a finely dressed man and take something from his pocket. They were thieves and were using the tag game to steal! She stopped playing with them immediately and went home. That night, though, her stomach noticed the missing lunch and it was the thought of food that brought her back into their company three days later. After lunch, Angela timidly asked Scott about the Guild.

  "You'd have enough coins for food and school if you wanted, although school is useless. Lord Merryweather will make sure you are taught everything you need to know. In fact, he'll probably pay me to teach you. You only have to do a little bit of pick-pocketing and only from non-local people who have extra anyway. You think it over. If you want, I'll take you to the hall."

  It only took another week of having enough food in her stomach to convince Angela to join the Guild. That week she ate less at home, leaving more for her mother, and saw that her mother even had a little more energy for sewing and seemed less sad than usual.

  * * * * *

  Angela and Scott planned the right night to take her to the Guild's lair for 'Court', which was when the Guildmaster listened to people. 'Court' was only at night, so she had to sneak out after her mother went to sleep. The street was really dark and the sliver of moonlight barely enough to see. Scott and Matty met her just outside her house and led her to an odd hatch a long way across town that went down into an even darker tunnel. They took her through a maze of passages and eventually arrived at a large room.

  Scott whispered, "Now just do what I told you. Call him Guildmaster. Only speak when spoken to and do not argue with him. Do whatever you're told immediately. He could have you sliced up and returned to your dear mama for dinner and she'd eat without ever once knowing better."

  Angela swallowed and nodded. Her eyes were still not quite used to the dimness. She waited for Matty to say Scott was exaggerating, but he never did.

  The open area wasn't a room exactly - the irregularly shaped man-made cave had many shadows that danced in the torchlight. Benches and tables were scattered about, some occupied by tough and evil-looking men with a few even tougher and meaner looking women.

  Across from the entrance, a large padded chair stood on a stone pedestal, and in that sat the toughest, meanest one of them all. The Guildmaster had a scar across his chin that dominated his face and distracted from the sharply intelligent eyes. Uneven, indeterminately-colored hair framed his stubbly chin. He wore a fitted dark leather outfit that showed signs of age and abuse. To her seamstress-trained eye, she noted it did not fit him quite right across the shoulders and inseam.

  "Here now, what's this?" the Guildmaster said, apparently to no one in particular. The room immediately went silent and all faces turned to stare at Angela.

  "She wan-s to join up, Guildmas-er." Matty said.

  One of the women cackled, "Hah! That one's too tame for us! I seen 'er round the market with her mum."

  "A lot of us stay around the market! Much to our profit!" someone else shouted and most roared with laughter.

  "She'll be a good thief, Guildmaster," Scott put in. "She's got a good eye."

  Several people spoke at once, each getting louder and snider and followed by even more laughter. "Too clean!" "Too ugly!" "Too little! She's a runt!" "Send her packing, Guildmaster!" "Better yet, cut her up and return her to her mum to sew back together!"

  The Guildmaster made a small gesture with his hand and everyone fell silent again. He stood, surprisingly graceful for his apparent size and strength and slowly prowled toward her.

  This was a predator. Angela knew this was the exact type person her mother protected her from. He moved right up next to her, studying her, invading her space, and then walked all the way around her. Angela thought briefly on running, but she didn't know how to get out of the tunnels.

  "So, you want to be a thief, do you?" he eventually said, stopping in front of her again.

  "Yes. I want coins for food and schooling, Sir." Angela whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. "They said I could get both here."

  Several people who were close enough to hear her snickered. The Guildmaster frowned at them and they immediately stopped. To her, he asked, "Do you even know what the Guild is? What we do?"

  "Yes, Sir. You're thieves. You steal from the people that come on the ships." Matty seemed to be trying to get her attention, but she couldn't tell what message he was trying to convey.

  "That's a naive definition," he commented, but continued before she could ask what 'naive' meant. "You think you could steal, then?"

  "I'll do whatever I need to, Sir." She tried to sound brave.

  "I doubt that. You think you would, but you wouldn't. Are you a good person?"

  Angela bit her lip. A 'thief' by every definition she knew was not a 'good person'. She had been told by many people that she was a good person, though, and she did try to be good and do her chores and be polite and kind. None of those things would likely help her here, though. She thought quickly, and decided to use a word she'd overheard that she didn't quite understand completely but thought might be right. "I am a desperate person, Sir."

  "Hmmm." He drew his finger across his scar. To no one in particular again, he commanded, "Bring the box." Matty was still trying to mouth something at her, but she couldn't read his lips.

  Back toward the throne, someone said, "Yes, Master." and exited. A platinum coin appeared in the Guildmaster's hand. He rolled it across his knuckles. Angela watched it, her attention riveted. That one coin would feed her and her mother for several years; it was worth a number of coppers so large she couldn't fathom it. She'd never seen one before.

  He reached into a pouch tied at his waist and held out a handful of coins and gems. "If you could have any one thing on my hand, which would you pick?" Angela leaned closer, squinting in the dim light. "Not that I'll give you any of it. I just want to know which item you'd choose. I want to know if you have a thief's eye as young Scott says. Which is worth the most?"

  She saw several coins, platinum, gold, silver, and copper. These paled near a large green gem, a neatly cut orange gem that captured the flickering torchlight and made a nearby red stone sparkle. These were nestled in the tangle of a golden chain about the length of a bracelet. She started to point to the orange gem. His eyes narrowed in knowing boredom. She hesitated. Had his tone implied th
e question had more to it than just picking the biggest or brightest object? Surely the gems were more valuable than the coins. But which was worth more? The bracelet or the gems? And then, suddenly, she knew. It was a riddle and she excelled at riddles. The answer was obvious.

  "Your ring, Sir. The one you are wearing." True, it was somewhat plain - just slightly dented, unpolished silver, but if he was wearing it, it had personal value, and that made it more valuable than all the other things he so casually tossed together in a pouch. Not that the other things weren't of value. She could live her entire life like a queen with the wealth in his hand and she could see the pouch still held more.

  "That'll do. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

  The man who had left arrived with a small, rectangular, black box. He handed it to Angela. The Guildmaster pointed at it. "Open it. Without breaking it," he added quickly.

  The box was locked. "May I have the key?" she asked. Someone laughed.

  "A thief doesn't need a key," the Guildmaster said. "Have it open by tomorrow evening and you can join the Guild." He turned to Matty. "Go on, get her out of here."

  "Yes, Guildmas-er." Matty grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly toward the door. Scott followed.

  "Angela Thomas!" the Guildmaster barked out.

  "Yes, Sir?" She glanced back.

  "Never call me 'Sir' again or I'll have you fed to the fish. I am to be called 'Guildmaster' when in my own den, 'Guildmaster de Merryweather' in another's den, and 'Lord Merryweather' when I'm not in the den. You will learn and obey Guild law or you will die."

  "Yes, S... Guildmaster." She started to follow her new friends, but stopped and turned back. "Guildmaster?" She was forced to speak up so he'd hear her over the people who had begun to speak again.

  "Yes?"

  "That man there. He called you 'Master' earlier."

  "Yes. He did." He flicked his hand toward the door and dismissed her from his attention.

  Matty yanked her arm, pulling her into the darkness of the tunnels leading out. "Shu- up!" he whispered fervently. "We're lucky he didn' kill us all! I dold you do call him Guildmas-er!"

  "He wouldn't."

  In the dark, she didn't see Scott grind his teeth in exasperation, but she heard it in his voice. "He would. It's a whole different world down here. Guild law is absolute in the den and everyone is subject to both it and the Guildmaster's whim. That was not a warning or a threat. It was a fact."

  Later that night, as she lay in bed, she wondered how the Guildmaster had known her name. She fell asleep, dreaming of platinum and gems, and enough food to still her aching stomach.

  * * * * *

  Bright sun rays heralded the morning and Angela was eager to get out and play with the box now that there was light to see. Her mother refused to get out of bed. "Go on to school, Angela," she said wearily. "I'll go by the market this afternoon and see if I can find work."

  "It'll be all right, Mama. You'll see," she whispered, patting her mother's arm. She shut the door quietly behind her.

  Hiding in her new favorite spot beneath the pier, she studied the box. It was about the size of her shoe, weighed as much as a rock, and was colored a solid, matte black. It was carved from some material neither stone nor wood and she thought it might be shell. It had the texture of rough stone, and an obvious, if small, keyhole. The edge of the lid matched up exactly with the box sides, and whatever catch was locking the lid was inside.

  She tilted it and listened. There was no sound at all. She tilted it every angle, listening. Nothing moved. She couldn't quite see through the keyhole - as soon as her eye got close enough to make out any shape, her head blocked the light and made it impossible to see inside. Even her smallest finger was too big to fit in. She tried pulling on the lid, but it was secure and she didn't want to pull so hard it broke. No, it was another riddle.

  She tried twisting the lid and pressing on all sides. If there were food inside the box, I could open it, she thought. She got a small stick and carefully probed inside the keyhole. She tried closing her eyes and probing with the stick. The tip of the stick seemed to slide around inside the keyhole unhindered. She didn't know anything about locks, but that just seemed wrong. It had to be a trick solution, like the ring on his finger. Something in plain sight, but not part of the apparent problem. The keyhole had to be a decoy, a distraction, like a large, sparkling, green gem.

  If the keyhole were fake, reason suggested that the lid was also fake. Yet there were no other openings that she could see. She watched the water curl over the cool sand beneath the pier. She kicked her shoes off and hid those and the box up underneath the pier, and went for a walk, kicking at the water and digging up shells with her toes. She kept peering back to where her shoes and the box were hidden to make sure no one got close to them.

  Early morning fishers were returning and she paused under the next pier to watch them unload. If only she could bring back some fish for dinner, even a small one or an old one that had been cast off the day before. Something. A fisher heaved a barrel up on the pier and emptied its fish into a net. Water drained out and splashed between the boards, falling back to the sea.

  Everything leaked, she realized. Water through the boards, rain through the roof, even the bucket she brought back from the stream filled with drinking water. A black box would leak where it could be opened, too. She ran back and picked up the box, studying it carefully. Yes, if it could be opened, it would leak.

  To be a proper test, though, she couldn't just splash water on it. She would have to carefully drip water on it. She would start at the lid edge. Not enough water to ruin anything inside, but enough to seep through if there were an opening. She dipped her hand into the water and waited until most had run off. She let one drop land on the seam. It spread along the seam's indentation, but did not go in. She tried another, and another, to the same result. The box did not open at its lid.

  The keyhole was a fake, too, then. Did that mean the box didn't open at all? That the Guildmaster deliberately gave her a test that could not be done so she could be easily turned away? No, if he wouldn't hesitate to kill her over a name, he certainly wouldn't have hesitated to turn her away if he'd wanted. The box had to open. She just had to figure out how.

  * * * * *

  From farther down the shoreline, Kevin Bennett, Guildmaster de Merryweather, watched as the girl systematically explored the box. He'd been told she was incredibly bright and using water to try to find the opening was genius. The untrained never guessed his ring, either, not without some hint or some prior knowledge. Could she see its magic? He knew his ring of truth would glow to those with magic ability. The wizard he'd stolen it from had told him, just as young Matty and Scott had told him they hadn't said anything to her or given her any help at all.

  Lies caused the ring to tingle, a weird, non-painful vibration, invisible to the eye, a sensation that felt just like when his foot fell asleep, except in his finger, right where the ring was. He had questioned Matty and Scott extensively earlier. They hadn't broken the Guild law that said new members weren't to be aided on the initial test. The girl was, as she'd said, desperate. But could she become a guildmember? Guildmembers were more than thieves. They were assassins, thugs, town caretakers of a sort, responsible for economics and maintaining the balance between residents, tourists, and crime. He ruled the town more than Mark Chambers, the public town-lord; he decided which businesses could operate and where; he decided how things were done; he received a tithe from every transaction in the area. Including two coppers for every dress Amy Thomas stitched.

  Amy Thomas - now there was a woman he respected. He didn't like her and she certainly hated him. But she paid her dues and he knew she sometimes went hungry on account of it. Most women would have turned to prostitution within the first few years, and he certainly knew precisely how profitable that business was. But Amy Thomas remained loyal to her sailor-husband, gone many years now and likely dead. He knew the woman raised her child with care and gentle firmness.
She was an honest, hard-working sort. If he were to bring her daughter into a life of crime and she found out, he'd be forced to kill the lioness protecting her cub - a Guildmaster wasn't allowed to have mercy. And death would be a tragedy for so magnificent and rare a creature.

  Yet as he watched the girl discover the well-hidden pressure points on the bottom of the box which caused the underside to pop open, he already knew he'd take her in. No one else had ever opened the box without training. A raw talent such as this could not be squandered. He just needed to design her training to deal with the 'goodness' he sensed in her. Was she a good person? Oh, yes. Would she be a good person when he was done with her? Not in the same way at all. He'd make her a good guildmember. An exceptional one.

  She was the one he'd been searching for. A plan began to form in the Guildmaster's mind. A plan where he could have an heir that he wouldn't have to keep magically geased to prevent from his heir assassinating him. There was no honor and no loyalty among thieves. But maybe, just maybe, if he were very cautious, and never consulted anyone, never confided in anyone, and protected her from the Guild predators without seeming to have an interest, he could live well beyond the lifespan allotted to him as a Thieves' Guildmaster. He, too, was something of a genius.

  Kevin Bennett, Guildmaster de Merryweather, hid for a long time, studying and watching the ostensively fatherless, impressionable, and so very desperate young genius, until she headed home for dinner and bed.

  CHAPTER 2: Student

  After her mother began snoring, Angela slipped out of bed, quietly dressed, then closed the door behind her. On the walk down to the market, she realized that she only needed to give the box back to Matty and Scott and tell them she couldn't open it and go home to have an honest life. An honest life where she and her mother would starve. Matty and Scott were waiting.

  "Did you get it?" Scott asked.

  "Of course." She showed him.

  "Great!" He led them through an alley to the hidden door and then to the den. On the way, he whispered lots of instructions to her on how to behave, and then added, "Mind that mark on the floor a few paces away from the throne. You go there when you want to address the Guildmaster during Court."