Lawful Good Thief

by T L Ford

  "I'm aware of that. I'm willing to add to the terms of the geas that I will never make you do anything or let anyone else, including myself, do anything that will let your mother know of your membership."

  "What would I have to do?"

  Guildmaster de Merryweather answered, "In addition to learning, just administrative things, mostly, collecting and logging tithes, bodyguard duty, some general servant tasks that I simply cannot trust a non-geased person to do, like fetching me food and drink." He picked up a platinum and spun it on the table. "Oh! I forgot. As my apprentice, I also pay you thirty copper a month. Davies is getting forty, but he's been serving me longer and is more skilled." He set the platinum aside again. "You don't have to decide right now. I'm not going to geas anyone until next week anyway, but I wanted to extend the offer."

  "How long for the geas?"

  "Ten years. That's the normal amount for a Guildmaster's apprentice. Terms are shorter generally for apprenticeship to a Master thief only."

  "I'll do it if you'll lower my mother's rent. I'll pay the difference from what you pay me."

  "I'd be willing to do that." He stood. "Practice your knife throwing before next week. I expect you to demonstrate it to the Guild at the geasing."

  "Yes, Guildmaster." Angela followed him from the room and stumbled home in a daze. She and her mother would never go hungry again. No fear of being turned out into the street. No fear of her mother turning to prostitution. All it would cost is a few years of her service. She could save all the extra copper coins over the years and use whatever was saved to continue to assist her mother after the term had expired. She could retire from the Guild and take up honest work in a shop. As a bonus, she wouldn't have to worry about her mother finding out about the deal either. She didn't want to be Dauphin; Davies was going to get that. The training would likely prove interesting and she had no doubt that she could excel at whatever he might teach with proper direction and practice.

  * * * * *

  After she was gone, Kevin walked over to one of the walls in his room and hit it. No Guildmaster had ever begged someone to be his apprentice before. He hadn't even needed to show Davies his treasure. Davies had grovelled for the honor of being geased. This was going to prove quite challenging.

  To get the Dauphin he was after, he'd just have to plan such that they had mutually beneficial goals. A sufficient knife throwing demonstration would keep the predators in line while he fine-tuned her skills. Poverty was an excellent motivator, but he judged that had already had its desired effect. Creating friendship and loyalty was his next task.

  * * * * *

  The lair's main hall was set up for festivities. That is, extra benches had been brought in, as well as extra tables and extra alcohol. The mood was light and the noise volume loud. All the local guildmembers turned out for the party having heard that their Guildmaster had chosen additional apprentices.

  The week had gone exceptionally fast and Angela felt like she'd had no time at all to practice even though she'd done so every chance she got. Angela nervously rechecked the balance of the dagger. She'd thrown four already and while not perfect, the daggers were not far from the target's black center. Angela threw the fifth and last dagger and it landed in the exact center of the target. The watching guildmembers cheered and coins exchanged hands as wagers were settled.

  "Yes, you're acceptable," Guildmaster de Merryweather stated and gestured for her to wait over at the side. He continued to the other person selected, "Jeff, I would like to see a demonstration of your climbing. Go ring the bell."

  The wall with the bell at the top was in the arena area of the hall. While there were no visible handholds, small irregularities in its surface made it climbable for someone with knowledge and practice. Jeff had such skills and although it took him a while, he made sure he had each place securely before advancing. Sliding down or falling would have been much worse than going slowly. He rang the bell at the top as the crowd below cheered and then worked his way back down.

  The geasing itself wasn't much at all. The Guildmaster bid Angela to come forward. Davies read off a scroll and the words swirled in the air like a thick liquid, settling on her and waiting for her acceptance. She allowed it to soak into her skin and felt the tingling caress across her entire body until it finally took hold and embedded itself into her muscles.

  "Bow to me, Apprentice," her new Master commanded, not to be cruel, but to give her a sense of the geas.

  She felt herself bowing before she even told herself to. "Master, as you will," she said, completing her part of the ritual. Relieved to be done the ordeal, she moved to stand off to the side and make room for Jeff who was then also geased.

  "I require you to stand at my side the first hour of Court every evening, Angela," her Master said. "Jeff, you get the next hour, and Davies, you will attend on me for the rest of it."

  Though it seemed like an arbitrary decision based on allowing Angela to go home before her mother would start worrying, Angela suspected it wasn't. He could just as easily have required her to take the midnight hour and her mother would never know. The first hour of Court usually had all the most interesting events in it. The rest tended to be very dull. Her new Master was being kind to her.

  Still, Angela wondered how to explain coming home late each evening, but her Master even took care of that. The schoolteacher called on her mother the very next day and said that she was going to have Angela help grade papers each evening, and would send her home before it got too late. Her mother was delighted with the idea that Angela was doing so well in her studies that she could assist the teacher and even suggested that one day Angela might decide to become a schoolteacher herself. Angela had merely smiled and said that one day, she might be anything at all.

  At first, Angela merely stood by her Master's side and observed. People came and went, brought their petitions and greetings, tithes, and questions. Her Master most often gave each his undivided attention very briefly, but occasionally would make lengthy judgments or lectures.

  Each time he asked her to bring drink and food, she did, and noted what he liked and what mannerisms indicated whether he was thirsty or hungry. Soon she was bringing refreshments unprompted for she was able to gauge when he desired something. She also discovered she had full access to the entire lair, and spent some time memorizing the maze-passageways. She was also given access to her Master's lock collection and spent many day-hours learning and practicing each type. She even got to play in the arena, trying out its challenges during the day when almost everyone in the entire Guild was sleeping and she had the room to herself.

  Within a few months and only when they were alone, Angela's Master had her address him as Kevin. He also requested she learn how to do his treasury's ledger and asked her to take care of checking in the tithes from the various collection points.

  This required he give her access to the treasury and he showed her where he kept the key, commanding her not to tell anyone either about the key or the task. He checked her work every so often, and made sure she didn't accidentally make an error or take anything without a proper entry. He also told her to spend as needed for the guildhall.

  The only access to the treasury was through the Guildmaster's private chamber and Angela so frequently passed through that she started cleaning it merely because the mess annoyed her. Once started, she discovered he also had a collection of unwashed, unmended clothes and she remedied that too. She did these things while her Master was off breakfasting after sleeping. He never commented, though he must have noticed he had a bed that was neatly made with clean sheets every night, as well as clothes that smelled washed and were meticulously organized in his wardrobe cabinets. She also kept his bath basin stocked with high-quality, unscented soap and fresh linens. His crossed swords had taken on a nice polished sheen.

  Throughout this, she never spent time with Davies or Jeff, who kept night hours entirely. When their paths did briefly cross, they treated her as if she were a common servant and m
ostly ignored her. She didn't argue with them or try to explain. After all, Davies was destined to become the next Guildmaster and she didn't want to make an enemy.

  The Guildmaster sometimes didn't take a full sleep-shift and came to work with her on things and as time passed, her skills improved exponentially. Other days when he decided to stay with her, they merely talked, and he described all aspects of his job, from correspondence with the other guilds to local business interactions. Balancing local theft to local income was a fine art form. Too much theft, and people would move away and there'd be nothing for visitors to do or shop for, and the town would die. Tithes from local businesses brought in the bulk of the guild's income. Too little theft and the guildmembers would leave and there would be no Guild. Angela absorbed it all, but mostly, she just liked spending time with him and listening to him ramble about his adventures. Sometimes, she even liked to imagine that her father would have sat with her and told her stories of his sailing adventures.

  Angela was also accruing a nice savings balance in her Guild ledger and she and her mother were doing better than they had in years. With the slightly reduced rent, they had enough coins for food and dress materials, while not raising her mother's curiosity. Every six months or so, they had enough coins for her mother to make a noncommissioned dress for sale. These would eventually sell to some visitor that did not have time to wait for a custom dress, but enough for alterations, and would give them a few extra coins. Angela even helped sew sometimes and was becoming equal to her mother, with lack of experience being compensated for by young, agile hands and good eyes.

  * * * * *

  Several years passed. Between tutors, her Master, and her practice time, Angela had become quite skilled. Her height shot up, but the constant activity and training saved her from that awkward lack of dexterity most early teens experienced. She wouldn't ever become as well-endowed as her mother, but she at least began to show signs of the woman she'd become. Sometimes she even tried to imagine herself as pretty, but those moments passed swiftly and she got back to work. She could worry about such things when she finished with the Guild, she thought.

  One day, probably around high noon (without sunlight there was no way to tell), Angela was practicing climbing the wall in the arena. She found it made a good workout and she always felt better for having gone up and down it several times. She dropped back to the ground and stretched. When she moved to the climb-rope, she saw Davies watching her.

  "Hey, Davies," she greeted him genially.

  "Do you sleep with him?" he asked.

  "Huh? Who?"

  "Our Master. Do sleep with him?"

  "Uh, no, he sleeps during the day. Oh! You mean 'sleep' with him. No, of course not." She refrained from asking him if he slept with their Master, although she was tempted. He was interrupting her workout and she didn't feel like dealing with his condescension.

  "How about a throwing duel?" He moved toward the bucket of practice daggers kept near the wooden target for that purpose. "Best of ten wins?"

  She shrugged. "Ok."

  When they were done throwing, all ten of hers were dead center and only five of his were although the ones that were off weren't off by much at all. He replaced the bucket of daggers back at the base of the board. "You have improved quite a bit from the day of your geasing."

  "I practice a lot," she answered.

  "Well, I bid you good day. I need sleep. After all, I have a long evening tonight at our Master's side, while you apparently need the extra hours for practice," he said snidely.

  "I'm only doing what I've been told to." She bowed to him and Davies left. Angela returned to her workout. Today, she planned to go through the locks again; she'd been trying for incredible speed - if she moved her hands just right and did no extra actions, she could shorten the time to open them quite a lot.

  CHAPTER 3: Alone

  Angela left her service hour at Court and stepped out into the night. A moderate rain immediately soaked her, but there wasn't any way to get home without going through the rain. As she walked, she pondered the strict formalities of the Guild. Receiving line rituals were particularly grueling, from both sides. The applicant needed to approach humbly, avoid upsetting the Guildmaster while stating his case as concisely as possible. A botched receiving line audience could get one tormented, thrown in the Guild's prison, or outright executed. And on the Guildmaster's side, each night required several hours of Court where anyone might come with their requests. Each independent had to receive permission to operate in the town and arrange for the appropriate tithe. Other dens sent couriers and each of these had to be greeted and their missions discussed. Her Master frequently required a demonstration of some skill over in the arena of the applicants and Angela supposed this was mainly to break up the boredom.

  Angela hurried. Her mother would be worried with the rain making the streets darker than usual. The candlelight was flickering through the window, which meant her mother was likely still sewing. Angela shook off as much water as she was able and stepped into the house's common room which served as both kitchen and sitting room.

  The room was in shambles. The candle on the table was the only thing still in order. Dishes were shattered, furniture broken, materials and sewing supplies strewn about. Angela stumbled. Her mother lay sprawled across the floor near the table, obviously dead, her leg twisted up underneath her, and her head pushed back where her throat had been cut open.

  Angela ran forward, falling to her knees at her mother's side. "No!" she whispered, reaching for her mother, shock and incomprehension making her unaware that she was not alone. A hand slapped a wet cloth over her face and she recognized the odor as a strong sleep draught. Before she could react, she felt herself falling, unable to stop, unable to fight, unable to grieve.

  * * * * *

  Her head hurt and her arms were contorted, twisted around behind her, tied. Her shoes were missing. Angela stilled instantly and listened. The floor tilted and water sloshed against wood. She was on a ship. No one was breathing in the room. She opened her eyes a fraction. Muted daylight came in through a grimy portal. The small room was empty, except for a tangled pile of salt-covered mildewed lines that smelled like seaweed that had aged in the heat too long.

  She could hear voices arguing off in the distance, probably on the deck of the ship. She calmed her mind and focused intently, as she was trained to do. With just the right concentration, she could hear more than was generally possible and in greater detail. Mostly it was just shutting off her other senses. Hearing training was akin to being a blind person that had to grow his hearing to compensate for lack of sight. Except to really hear, one had to dismiss the other senses.

  "He said we should kill her. He said she was dangerous."

  'Who? Who had said?' Angela thought, frustrated. She was betrayed. Only guildmembers knew she might be dangerous.

  "She's a whore. How dangerous could she be? No, that bastard will pay and until he does, we'll have ourselves a bit of shipboard sport."

  Her Master would never pay a ransom. How stupid could the man be? Obviously, he thought to rape her and sell her back, except her Master wouldn't pay. No Guildmaster would. It would make him appear weak and within the year, he'd lose his position, if not his life.

  "I'm just saying maybe we should think about this more."

  "Nothing to think about at all. We get paid twice. I get my revenge, complete. And Jason Thomas gets back a dead whore to go with the other."

  What? Jason Thomas? Not the Guildmaster? Angela lost focus and couldn't hear them. She felt like she'd just fallen from a roof and landed on her back. She gasped, trying to get air into her lungs. Her father was alive. For a brief moment, she saw her childhood vision, where her father hugged her and kissed her and the three of them lived happily. That elation immediately dissolved. The man wasn't going to pay a ransom for a daughter he didn't know he had and there were no longer three of them. The empty space left by the loss of her mother overwhelmed her. Fear eventual
ly caused her to push her grief aside. Right then she needed to think about how to get out of this situation.

  She wondered how far out to sea she was already. Could she take one of the ship's rowboats back to shore? No doubt that the longer she waited, the farther from shore she'd be. She also didn't have any intention of being the 'shipboard sport' either. She wiggled and tugged at the right spots on the line until she got a hand free, and then she untied the rest of herself and retied herself so the lines would simply pull free if she needed them to. It took a bit of time, during which she wondered what would happen if they came early. In the end, she waited, uncomfortable on the rocking floor, for several hours.

  She practiced listening, but heard nothing else of interest. Several people were playing a game of cards and drinking, toward what she thought was probably the ship's stern. Quite a few were snoring, despite the time. She managed to map out what she felt was a decent floor plan of the ship based on people walking. Eventually, footsteps approached her door, and the door swung open.

  * * * * *

  A man of medium height swaggered in, obviously drunk. He was followed by a shorter, leaner man. Both were well-muscled, unwashed, unshaven, with greasy, longish hair. Both were armed with daggers sheathed at their waists. The taller of the two grinned, his yellow-green teeth discordantly even and intact. "She looks like that whore," he said to his companion. He stepped forward and kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to fly back into the lines.

  It was so unexpected that Angela didn't think to hold onto her wrist lines and they pulled free. She grabbed at them. Angela, reeling in confused pain, wheezed, "Who paid you?"

  The shorter man took up post near the door, with a demented half-salute. "After you, Capt'n."

  The taller man didn't acknowledge him or seem to notice the slight shuffle with the line. He looked like he was staring at a ghost. A ghost he hated more than anything in the world. He came toward her, unbuttoning his pants. "Whore," he said dementedly. He reached for her chest.