Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Master Velvet rounded on them, eyes blazing. "But be warned, little ones! Do not let me down." Torchlight glinted off the blade that appeared as if by magic. "You do not wish to suffer the…consequences." He let the word hang in the air.

  Seven shuddered. Her eyes followed the hypnotic dance of the knife.

  Master Velvet's expression softened and his feline grin returned. "But I have trained you well, my drudges. I know you will do me proud."

  She met his gaze and a chill ran down her spine. His eyes held no warmth or pity. He would not hesitate to carry out his word if she failed.

  "Come now." Master Velvet pulled the bunk room door open. "To the Menagerie."

  Seven stumbled into the tunnel, fear and apprehension twisting her stomach in knots. What awaited her in the Menagerie? What were these tests Master Velvet promised? She clenched her fists to stop her hands trembling.

  It doesn't matter. I will stand tall.

  Master Velvet held up a hand. ""Be patient, tyros. Soon enough, you will have your chance to prove yourselves. Remain here until I come for you." He strode toward the Menagerie and disappeared into the massive room.

  Eight whimpered at the head of the line. Seven didn't envy him; he would face the test first. She craned her neck. Three stood in last place. His lip quivered, but he stood with a straight back and head held high. Seven smiled and he nodded to her.

  He will pass. He has to!

  Master Velvet appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. "Eight." He beckoned. "Your time has come."

  With a quiet sob, Eight shambled forward. Seven wanted to wish him luck, but couldn't form the words around the lump in her throat. A tense silence filled the passage as she waited. The thump, thump of her heart grew louder.

  She wished she could watch Eight. She could see what the tests were and would be ready for—

  A terrified shriek echoed in the Menagerie. That was Eight! Seven's heart drummed against her ribs.

  What's happening? Her mind conjured nightmarish horrors. Sweat trickled down her back. She wiped damp palms against her robes.

  Master Velvet beckoned to her. "It's time."

  Seven forced herself forward on trembling legs. What happens if I fail?

  Master Velvet radiated barely controlled rage. "May the Watcher have mercy on you," he muttered. "You know the price of failure."

  Seven's eyes darted to the knife in his belt. Her hands shook and her feet refused to move. I…I can't!

  "Now, tyro!"

  She leapt at his snarl and stumbled after him. He led her to the heart of the Menagerie. "Stand here."

  Seven's pulse raced. Silent figures lined the edge of the room, faces hidden in cowls. Colorful banners adorned the walls of the Menagerie. They stood in sharp contrast with the room's muted hues. Together with the robed and hooded figures surrounding her, they imparted a sense of solemnity and ritual.

  In front of the sea of standing people, eight cloaked figures sat on wooden chairs. Each bore an armband of a different color; the only feature distinguishing them from the rest. Their eyes bored into her, judging her, as if expecting her to fail. She hunched, weighed down by the burden of anticipation.

  One of the seated figures rose. "Step forward, tyro." He wore a golden armband.

  Swallowing her fear, she complied. Hands clasped behind her, back straight, head up, as Master Velvet had instructed. Stand tall, no matter what. She clung to those words like a lifeline.

  "What is the child's name, Master Velvet?"

  "She is called Seven, Master Gold."

  Master Gold turned to her. "Seven, you come before the Assembly this day as an applicant to the Night Guild. You seek apprenticeship in the ancient ways, is that so?"

  Seven repeated the words Master Velvet had taught her. "Y-Yes, it is so." Her hands trembled. She clenched her fists. Don't let them see how afraid you are.

  "Is there any who would speak against the tyro? Any reason she should not undergo the tests?"

  Silence.

  "Then, in the eyes of the Watcher, let us judge her and decide if she is worthy to be a member of the Night Guild."

  A figure broke from the sea of shadows and moved toward her. "Come, child. Your first test awaits."

  A woman? Seven followed, too surprised to hesitate.

  The woman led her to a small table with a lantern and a single piece of parchment. "Can you read, tyro?"

  Seven nodded. "Y-Yes."

  "Then read the words and give me your answer."

  Seven held the parchment to the lantern.

  Each morning I appear

  To lie at your feet,

  All day I follow

  No matter how fast you run,

  Yet I nearly perish

  In the midday sun.

  She read the words over, her mind racing.

  What is it? The answer would not come. Her eyes wandered the Menagerie as she tried to guess. The torches on the wall drew her attention. They cast dancing shadows across the row of hooded figures. Could it be…?

  "Sh-Shadows." She swallowed hard. "Th-They appear each morning when the sun comes up and follow at our feet as we run. When the midday sun is high, they all but disappear. The answer is shadows."

  The woman turned to the seated figures. Without a word, each of the eight tossed something onto the dirt floor of the Menagerie. Seven squinted.

  Stones. Eight white stones sparkled in the flickering torchlight.

  "Come, tyro. The tests continue."

  Mind awhirl, Seven followed. What do the stones mean?

  The woman led her to a groove etched into the dirt. "Stand here." Seven complied, and the woman turned her to face another dark, hooded figure a few paces away. "Face him."

  The figure remained motionless. Seven's heart thundered as she studied it. What now?

  The hooded man moved with startling speed. His arm flashed up and forward, and something hurtled toward her. A terrified cry burst from her lips. Acting on instinct, she hunched, arms clasped over her head.

  A stone clattered on the ground behind her. The woman spoke in a harsh voice. "Catch it, tyro, or fail."

  What? Her eyes widened. I'm meant to catch the stone?

  Heart thudding, Seven forced herself straight. Her hands trembled in nervous anticipation. Again, the man launched a stone. She tried not to flinch, but her body acted on instinct. She twisted aside, her hand flashing out. Biting back a cry of pain, she opened her hand to reveal the rock.

  The woman nodded. "Again."

  Before Seven could react, the man's arm flashed once, twice. Her eyes widened as two rocks hurtled toward her. Time slowed in that heartbeat. Her hands moved as if through mud. The first rock smacked into her palm. The second struck her fingers with a crack. Agony raced through her right hand. Screaming, she clutched it to her chest.

  Please, no more, she wanted to beg. It would be useless. Injured or not, the tests would go on.

  The woman shook her head. "It is enough." She turned to the figures in the wooden chairs.

  Relief flooded Seven. More stones clattered onto the ground. Black pebbles joined the white ones.

  The woman turned to her. "Judgement is passed. On to the next."

  Seven cradled her arm to her chest and gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing in her right hand. Her mind raced. There was no mistaking the meaning of the stones. White, she passed. Black, she failed. Her eyes darted to the stones. A near-even number of white and black pebbles littered the ground.

  The woman pointed to a row of wooden pails. "Lift these, if you can."

  Seven's heart sank. Rocks and sand filled the buckets to varying degrees. All looked too heavy for her to lift. Pain flared in her fingers as she grasped the handle of the emptiest pail. Grunting, she threw her back into the effort. The weight threatened to drag her arms from their sockets. Agony coursed up her right arm. The injured finger stiffened and refused to bend.

  With a gasp, she dropped the bucket. "I-I can't!"

  She turned to t
he seated figures, dread like a cold knife in her heart. They cast their judgment, and the black stones outnumbered the white.

  Seven wanted to shout in anger and frustration. It would do no good. She had only one choice: continue and try to succeed at the next tests. Fear sat like a rock in her stomach. An image of Master Velvet's dancing knife flashed through her mind.

  "Come, tyro." The woman beckoned. "To the next."

  Seven followed the woman, her hands and knees trembling. Nervous sweat soaked through her tunic. Her parched throat begged for water.

  The next test consisted of a clay pitcher resting upon a three-legged wooden stool. Seven eyed it, uncertain what to do.

  The woman pointed to a bucket of water. "Fill the pitcher to the brim."

  Water sloshed as Seven lifted the wooden bucket. She tried to move with caution. The narrow base of the pitcher and the unsteady wooden stool made it near-impossible to avoid spilling. The handle crushed her injured finger, sending spikes of pain shooting up her arm. She clenched her jaw, biting back the sob that threatened to burst from her throat.

  I have to do it! I can't fail. I-I can’t…

  The bucket slipped from her grip. Water splashed over its wooden sides, soaking the stool. She could do nothing but watch, helpless, as the clay pitcher tilted, toppled, and crashed against the floor. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheek. Frustrated, she hurled the bucket to the now-sodden ground. She refused to look at the pile of stones before the seated figures.

  "Come, tyro." The woman's voice held no trace of mercy. "The final test awaits."

  Seven clutched her injured hand to her chest. Master Velvet's warning words echoed in her mind. She shuddered; she didn't want to picture what awaited her if she failed the last test. Her hand trembled and tears slid unchecked down her cheeks.

  The woman motioned her forward. "The Watcher have mercy on you, tyro."

  Seven studied the next test, her heart sinking. They'd saved the hardest for last.

  Two barrels stood a few paces apart. A wooden beam had been lashed in place atop the barrels, forming a narrow bridge.

  A cowled figure stepped up beside her and reached out a masculine hand. "Up you go, tyro."

  Seven allowed the man to help her up. She spread her arms to steady herself and studied the wooden beam. It was no thicker than her ankle. The distance between the two ends seemed endless, the floor so far below.

  How can they possibly expect me to balance on something so thin?

  Her eyes flashed to the pile of stones on the floor. So many black, so few white. She'd already failed, hadn't she? She had no hope of success, even if she somehow managed to pass the test. All her time spent working to be accepted into the Night Guild, wasted because she wasn't good enough. She pictured Master Velvet's knife and shuddered. He hadn't washed her bloodstains off his vest—what were a few more?

  A lump rose in her throat and her lungs constricted. Her breath came in ragged gasps. It was impossible. She would fail. She wavered, the barrel wobbling beneath her. Her hand ached every time she moved. Her knees threatened to give out.

  No! She gritted her teeth. I can't give up. I haven't failed, not yet.

  She had one more test, one more chance to pass. If she could succeed, maybe the Night Guild wouldn't give her to Master Velvet's knife. She'd proven her pocket-picking skills, shown herself useful with a blade. She wasn't strong like Twelve or Two, but surely there was a place for her in the Guild. There had to be!

  Seven closed her eyes. She wouldn't look at the stones, no matter what. She wouldn't look at Master Velvet or anyone else. The only thing that mattered was the test. What came after…she wouldn't let that stop her from doing her best.

  She placed a tentative foot on the plank and stepped forward. A voice drifted through her mind.

  "Bend your knees a little, lift your head, shoulders back, and hold your arms out. See how it helps you to keep your balance?"

  Seven stumbled at the memory. Who was that? She hadn't heard it in…

  She couldn't remember how long. Couldn't remember the face the voice belonged to.

  Taking a deep breath, Seven obeyed the voice. Bend my knees. Lift my head. Shoulders back. Arms out. Focus on something in the distance. Ignore everything but the straight line. Block out the pain. Stand tall, no matter what.

  The world faded around her. One step forward, two, three. She fixed her eyes on a large brown banner hanging at the far end of the hall. As she placed one foot carefully before the other, she studied the emblazoned figure of a hawk. Its wings spread wide, just as her arms now were. Her toes gripped the beam as the hawk's talons gripped its prey. Its eyes bored into her, holding her gaze as she moved toward it.

  Instinct told her to look down. She had to watch her steps or else fall off the narrow plank. She wouldn't do it, wouldn't give in to the panic that overrode the voice in her head. Nothing else mattered but the plank beneath her feet.

  "Tyro!"

  Seven's concentration snapped. Gasping, she wobbled and nearly lost her balance.

  "It is done." The woman held out a hand.

  I…I did it? Seven looked down. Her right foot extended over empty air. She'd made it across. Shocked surprise raced through her. I did it!

  She took the woman's offered hand and dropped to the floor. Her knees wobbled and she sagged. Her heart pounded—not from fear or worry, but from excitement. She forced herself to stand straight. This last test had looked impossible, but she'd done it. She could be proud of that, come what may.

  The woman nodded. "It is done, tyro. Return to your place before the Assembly."

  The woman led her to the center of the Menagerie and, with a nod, rejoined the ranks of hooded figures before her. The seated figures cast their judgement. Black and white stones mingled on the ground. She couldn't tell which outnumbered the other. Had she passed?

  Master Gold's voice boomed. "You have faced the tests of the Night Guild, tyro. Final judgment will be passed among the assembled Masters once your fellows have done likewise. Go and bear witness to the prowess of your companions."

  A hand rested on her shoulder. Master Velvet's face showed no sign of approval or anger as he drew her to one side of the room.

  "Stand here." He pointed to a portion of wall clear of hooded figures. "Do not move, no matter what happens."

  Eight huddled on the floor, tears streaming down his face. He didn't look up as she took her place beside him.

  Her hands trembled at her side and her breath came in ragged gasps, but she stared ahead with confidence, head held high. She wouldn't let them see her fear.

  Chapter Eleven

  Seven's stomach bottomed out as Two wobbled atop the balance beam. She clenched her fists. Come on, Two. You can do it!

  The larger boy wavered and stumbled, nearly falling. He managed to right himself and lurched across the beam. Seven released her breath as he dropped to the dirt floor of the Menagerie.

  He did it! She eyed the assortment of stones on the ground; black and white lay scattered in equal measure.

  The somber voice echoed in the vaulted room. "You have faced the tests of the Night Guild, tyro. Final judgment will be passed among the assembled Masters once your fellows have done likewise. Go and bear witness to the prowess of your companions."

  Two hurried to join the rest of the tyros standing against the wall. He returned Seven's grin with a weak smile, taking his place beside her. He'd filled the pitcher without spilling and excelled at the strength test. But, like most of the others, he couldn't read.

  Agony flashed through her injured finger. She forced herself to stand straight, biting back a whimper. She studied the other children. All stood silent and still. Sweat stood out on more than one forehead. None of the others had passed all the tests. Four had come the closest. He'd caught both rocks, lifted a bucket far heavier than hers, and walked half the distance of the beam before falling. Had he known how to read, she had no doubt he would have passed that test as well. White had far o
utnumbered black when he stood beside her.

  Twelve stood at the end of the line, avoiding the gazes of his fellows. He favored his right leg and kept his left hand tucked into his sleeve. He'd failed all but the strength test. Seven's mouth had dropped at the sight of him lifting the heaviest bucket. He'd caught the first stone, but he hadn't come close when both were hurled. The bloodstained bandage around his hand hadn't helped.

  Nine sat curled in a ball, sobs shaking his shoulders. The tremor in his hands had gotten so bad he'd fallen from the beam before he'd even fully mounted. He'd dropped the full bucket, shattering the clay pitcher and splashing water onto the seated Masters. Seven hadn't bothered to count the pitiful number of white stones mixed among the black.

  Seven's stomach tightened in anticipation. Only Three remained. Eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, he stood in the heart of the Menagerie. He looked so small and frail beside Master Velvet.

  "In the eyes of the Watcher," Master Gold proclaimed, "let us judge him and decide if he is worthy to be a member of the Night Guild."

  Three shuffled toward the first test, hands shaking as he took the parchment. The moment he saw the words, his demeanor changed. A smile brightened his face and he shouted the answer. "Shadows!"

  White stones clattered on the dirt floor. Seven grinned and exhaled. He can do this.

  Her grin faded at the next test. Three cringed from the hurled rocks, not even attempting a half-hearted grab. Disappointment filled his eyes and he turned a bright red. Black pebbles joined the ranks of white.

  His face fell at sight of the strength test. He seized the same bucket that had foiled her and strained. His face reddened with exertion, his slim shoulders shook, and he dropped the bucket with a gasp.

  Seven's heart sank. Come on, Three! You have to do better than that. An army of black rocks surrounded white.

  He approached the pitcher test with grim determination. With shaking hands, he lifted the bucket and poured with caution. Seven's eyes widened at the steady stream of water trickling into the narrow-based pitcher. Not a drop spilled on the scale. The clay jug remained upright.