Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  “Aye.” The first man nodded. “A few more turns down that way, and ye’ll—”

  “Oi, shut up, you idiot!” commanded the third man. He was a dark-haired man whose weasel face looked odd on such a large, hairy frame. “We’re meant to ask them questions, not the other way around.”

  The first man reddened and turned back to Errik with a scowl. “Pull down yer scarf and let me get a look at ye.”

  “My good sir!” Errik’s accent reeked of the noble class. “We are Lord and Lady Mudicas of Malandria, come all this way to visit your glorious city, and this is how we are received? Accosted and questioned like common rabble?” He gave a haughty sniff. “King Gavian shall hear of this, just you wait!”

  “The King?” The weasel-faced man laughed. “That fool’s about as useful as tits on a bear! He and his precious Heresiarchs ain’t gonna do nothin’ if we decide to pull ye down from that Watcher-damned horse and teach that pretty mouth of yers a lesson.” He hefted a club. “Now show me yer face before I have to break it.”

  Sighing, Errik reached up and slipped his hands around the back of his head. A moment later, both hands came hurtling forward. Two throwing knives glinted in the lamplight. One buried in the eye of the lantern-bearing thug. The other took the weasel-faced man in the thigh.

  Ilanna’s sword whispered free of its sheath. She thrust it into the open mouth of the last thug. The razor blade severed the tip of his tongue and sliced his cheek open to the ear. With a yelp, he dropped his club and fumbled at the loose flaps of skin.

  “Go!”

  Errik’s shout galvanized her to action. She dug her heels into the horse’s flanks and the beast leaped forward. Ilanna kicked out. Her boot slammed into the bloodstained face of the thug, snapping his head back and knocking him into a nearby horse trough.

  The clatter of the horses’ hooves tore the silence of the night. Shouts of alarm and cries of anger echoed behind them. Lanterns appeared in the alleys all around, but the streets remained empty of thugs. She clung to the horse’s back, trusting Errik to lead them out of the city.

  Fear dug sharp claws into her mind. According to both Journeyman Donneh and Graeme, Kharna’s Breath was a highly volatile liquid. Though she’d wrapped both the glass vial and the twin clay jars, she half-expected to hear the crack of glass shattering, feel the stinging burn as the acid ate through the cloth wrapping, her pouch, and her flesh.

  But her fears never materialized. A dim part of her mind questioned if she’d found the right vial. Perhaps Graeme hadn’t given her the right symbol, or she’d taken the wrong glass bottle. She pushed the worries aside. It was too late to go back now.

  The first rays of light shone over the eastern horizon as they approached the southern gate. A handful of yawning Heresiarchs worked at the capstan that opened the enormous steel and wood gates. Before the half-asleep guards thought to stop them, Errik and Ilanna had passed under the portcullis, through the gateway, and into the plains beyond.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Ilanna leapt from the saddle before the horse had stopped. “Take care of them and meet me in the warehouse as soon as you can.”

  Errik nodded and kicked the horses into motion.

  Ilanna turned toward the Merchant’s District, cursing with every step. She never thought she’d miss the wooden wagon seat, but the return journey from Voramis had been harder than expected. Her training in the Aerie hadn’t included lessons on how to sit in a saddle for eight to ten hours a day. Between saddle sores, aching muscles and bones, and the biting sandstorms of the Windy Plains, their trip had taken an extra three days. That gave her just two days until the Labethian Tournament. Two days to prepare everything.

  Cutting it damned close! She forced her legs to move faster. She had to reach the warehouse and test the Secret Keepers’ mixtures. Either they worked and she’d found her way into the vault, or she’d have two days to find another solution.

  She burst through the door of the warehouse. Light streamed in from a window set high into the wall, shining on the steel vault door standing in the middle of an empty space.

  “Jarl? Darreth?” Her voice echoed off the rafters, startling a flock of nesting birds. “Allon? Ves? Joost?” Silence met her ears.

  Damn it! She stalked toward the rooms Darreth and Jarl had converted into temporary sleeping quarters. The stuffed couches remained, but no blankets or pillows. That means they’re back to sleeping in the Guild.

  She muttered a harsh curse. She didn’t have the time to waste crossing the city to the Guild, finding her crew, and returning here. We need to get working on this now, or else—

  “Ilanna?”

  Ilanna whirled. Joost stood at the entrance of the warehouse, a bottle of wine and a roasted chicken in his hands.

  Veslund bumbled in behind his comrade. “Hey, Joost, did ye know that—?” He stopped short at sight of Ilanna. “Ye’re back?”

  “Damned right I am!” Ilanna strode over and snatched the wine from Joost’s hands.

  “Hey, that’s—”

  Ilanna popped the cork and emptied half the bottle’s contents before the Fox could stop her. She passed the wine back to Joost and ripped a drumstick free. “Haven’t eaten more than trail rations in the last week.” She bit into the chicken, not caring that it burned her tongue and dripped grease down her chin. “Now, I need you to bring Jarl and Darreth here as quick as you can. And Allon, if you run into him.”

  Veslund nodded, but Joost looked ready to protest. Ilanna didn’t give him a chance. “As soon as you deliver the message to Jarl and Darreth, go buy as much food and wine as you can get for this.” She flipped a golden imperial to the lanky Fox. “And hurry! The Labethian Tournament is just two days away.” She gave Joost a sweet smile and plucked the chicken and wine bottle from his hands. “I’ll take those. Don’t want anything slowing you down.”

  Joost shook his head. Veslund gave a wry smile. “Aye, I told ye she’d come back, didn’t I, Joost?” He held out a hand. “That’ll be a half-drake.”

  Scowling, Joost handed over the coin.

  Ilanna tsked. “You ought to have learned by now, Joost. Never bet against me.”

  * * *

  Ilanna leapt to her feet as the door to the warehouse swung open an hour later. A very flushed and sweaty Darreth rushed toward her. “You’re back.”

  Ilanna grinned. “Surprised?”

  Darreth gave her a crooked grin. “Yes.” He drew out a cloth and dabbed at the perspiration streaming down his forehead. “Calling your chances of survival slim is somewhat like saying the Black Spire is ‘a big building’. But I’ll admit I’m glad to see you beat the odds.”

  “Damned right! Now get over here and help me test this out.”

  She turned to her hastily constructed work bench. A section of Odarian steel roughly as long and wide as her arms sat on a pair of saw horses she’d dragged out of a dusty corner.

  Ilanna produced the glass bottle and held it up for the Scorpion to see. “Kharna’s Breath.”

  Darreth rubbed his hands together, an eager light glinting in his eyes. “It looks so innocent, but not even I have any idea of its true power.” A frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Not a whole lot of it, is there?”

  Ilanna grimaced. The bottle was as round and tall as her little finger. In her hurry to flee the Temple of Whispers, she hadn’t thought to grab a second one. “It’s what we’ve got to work with. So we’re going to have to make it work.”

  Darreth inclined his head.

  Ilanna held out the bottle. “Want to do the honors?”

  Desire, excitement, and curiosity lit up Darreth’s eyes. “Are you certain?”

  Ilanna returned his smile. This was why she’d chosen him from all the others in House Scorpion. Just as she sought to push the bounds of her abilities as a thief, Darreth sought the new and marvelous in his own way. He’d bent to the puzzles and problems she’d presented with as much determination and gusto as she had. He lived for a challen
ge of the mind, just as she lived for a challenge to her skill.

  The bottle was made entirely of glass—the only thing that could resist the acid, Graeme had explained. The hands that had crafted it could only belong to a master craftsman. Not a drop of liquid seeped between the walls of the lid and the outer rim of the bottle. After a moment of tugging, Darreth snorted and twisted the lid to unscrew it.

  Darreth met her eyes and gave her an eager grin. “Here we go!”

  With a steady hand, he tilted the bottle to allow a single drop of the liquid to fall onto the plate of Odarian steel. Acting on instinct, Ilanna stepped out of range of whatever reaction the acid would have with the metal. Nothing happened. The acid sat on the piece of metal like a drop of rain on a leaf.

  Horror whirled in Ilanna’s thoughts. Had she gotten the wrong bottle? Had Graeme sent her to the wrong section? Her heart sank. The trip to Voramis had been nothing but an enormous waste of—

  “It’s working!”

  Darreth’s breathy whisper snapped her back to the moment. The single droplet of acid had begun to bubble. Steam rose from the plate of steel, carrying a noxious odor that stung Ilanna’s nose and made her eyes water. Covering her mouth with her cloak, she retreated a few paces to watch from a safe distance.

  Darreth, however, moved closer to the steel plate. He squinted at the reaction, his face close to the steel in defiance of the smoke and stench. “Marvelous!” His laughter—a high-pitched sound like a donkey braying—rang out in the warehouse.

  The steel smoked for a full minute more. Finally, the last of the acid sizzled, and the final drop of melted metal dripped to the stone floor.

  She met Darreth’s gaze. “Watcher’s teeth, it works!” Triumph rang in her voice.

  “So it does.” Darreth stared at the glass bottle in his hand. “I’d’ve said it was impossible had I not seen it with my own eyes.”

  Ilanna eyed the fingernail-sized hole in the steel plate. “All that from one drop! Think we’ve got enough to do the job?”

  Darreth frowned. “It’ll take me some time to figure out how much acid you’ll need to melt through the door’s outer plate and the steel locking mechanism. I’ll need to run a few tests.”

  “You’ve got until tomorrow afternoon.”

  The Scorpion thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think I can make it. But I’ll probably need to test Derelana’s Lance as well.” His eyes darted to the clay jars.

  Ilanna grinned. Darreth’s eager expression reminded her of the way Kodyn’s face lit up whenever she visited. The memory of her son’s smile sent a pang of sorrow through her. She ached to go home, even for just a few minutes, but she had too many things to do before tomorrow night and nowhere near enough time to do them. She’d have to wait until she finished the job.

  Just three more days, she told herself. Three more days until I can hold Kodyn once more. Ria’s face appeared in her mind, sending warmth rushing to her stomach. The thought of seeing the dark-skinned girl held a different sort of appeal.

  “Ilanna?”

  “What?” Her eyes regained focus. “What did you say?”

  “Derelana’s Lance? The test?” He frowned. “If you’re too tired, I can do this alone.”

  Ilanna sighed and rubbed her eyes. The journey from Voramis had taken a toll on her mind and body. She’d nearly fallen asleep waiting for Darreth to arrive. But she didn’t have time to stop. She could rest later.

  “No, let’s do this.” Drawing her belt knife, she cut the ring of wax around the clay jars’ wooden lids.

  Darreth set the lids carefully aside and peered into the jars. He held out a hand for her knife. “May I?” Using the tip, he scooped a small portion of red powder from the first jar and grey powder from the second. “You might want to stand back for this one, too.”

  Ilanna took a step back as he mixed the two powders together. “D’you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “As much as anyone.” Darreth didn’t look up from his work. “Journeyman Donneh and I did some research of our own while you were away. I don’t have all the facts, but I think this mixture should work.” He met her eyes now and gave her a wry grin. “Good thing you’ve got enough for me to experiment with.”

  Ilanna quirked an eyebrow. The clay jars were smaller than her fists and only three-quarters filled with powder.

  Darreth finished his mixing and produced an alchemical firestriker. “Now, if I’ve got this right, I simply apply a bit of fire and—” He jerked back as the powder flared to life. Ilanna’s eyes widened at the pillar of fire reaching toward the roof. Waves of heat rolled over Ilanna, and she had to take another step back to avoid the sparks spat forth by the blaze.

  “Welcome back, ’Lanna.”

  “Jarl!” Ilanna spun, a smile broadening her face at the sight of the huge Hawk. “Damn, but you’ve been busy.”

  “You’ve no idea.” Jarl wiped a muddy hand across his even muddier forehead. “We got a problem.”

  Ilanna rolled her eyes. “Of course we do.” The moment things started to look up, something always went wrong.

  Jarl peered over her head. “Busy?”

  “Darreth’s playing with his new toys. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  The Hawk’s face tightened. “It’s bad. We’ve hit granite. Can’t get through.”

  Elation and frustration mingled in Ilanna’s gut. On the one hand, the presence of granite meant Jarl and his team had located the foundation of the vault. According to Master Lorilain, the steel room would require a foundation of slate or granite to support the weight. The map of Lord Auslan’s mansion had proven accurate. Yet granite was among the hardest stones on Einan. Stonemasons specialized in techniques for cutting and shaping the stone, so difficult it was to manage. No way a team of Grubbers could get through a solid layer of it.

  “Keeper’s teeth.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Have you made any progress at all?”

  Jarl shook his head. “Been working all day and barely scratched it.”

  Ilanna’s shoulders slumped. She muttered a string of curses. She’d done the impossible to pull off the job: broken into the hidden vaults of the Reckoners, dodged the Bloody Hand, even stolen from the Secret Keepers. Yet she had no clever solution to deal with a solid slab of stone. The look in Jarl’s eyes spoke volumes. He knew they wouldn’t reach it in time.

  “Uh, Ilanna, I think you’d better take a look at this.”

  “Not now, Darreth. I need to think.”

  “Ilanna.” The Scorpion’s voice grew more insistent. “You’ll really want to see this.”

  With a huff, Ilanna whirled and stalked over to the Scorpion. “What?”

  Darreth stabbed a finger at the floor. “Look!”

  Ilanna crouched. Shock washed away all trace of frustration and anger. “Sweet Mistress!”

  The alchemical mixture lived up to its name. It was as if the hand of Derelana herself had driven a fiery lance into the floor. Cracks spread from a hole scorched deep into the stone. Ilanna lifted a shattered piece of masonry, only to have it crumble in her fingers.

  Her gaze darted to Darreth. “What did you do?”

  Darreth held up his hands. “I spilled a bit of the powder. When a spark hit it, it blazed up and just melted the stone. But it was an accident, I swear!”

  Ilanna leapt toward him and threw her arms around his slim shoulders. “Darreth, you beautiful, beautiful man!” She spun him around despite his protests. “You’ve found our way into the vault.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Ilanna groaned and sagged onto her bed. As if her travels hadn’t exhausted her enough, she’d spent the last six hours trudging through the sewer system learning the escape route Jarl crafted for her. Now, she wanted nothing more than a few hours of undisturbed sleep.

  A tap sounded at her door. “Ilanna?”

  Ilanna stifled a curse. Not Allon, not now. She’d dreaded seeing the Hound again. The thought of his hands on her body made her insides curl, but she di
dn’t have the patience or energy to do what had to be done. Besides, she still needed his help to finish the Lord Auslan job.

  She forced a smile and opened the door. “Come to welcome me home, Allon?”

  “I wish.” The Hound’s face showed no hint of mirth. “Uncle Jagar…er, Master Hawk sent me to fetch you.”

  Ilanna raised an eyebrow. “You?”

  Allon nodded. “I was on my way here already. But after what he told me…” He swallowed and his eyes slid away.

  Ilanna’s brow furrowed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Master Gold has called a meeting of the Night Guild.” He met her gaze now. Heavy bags, the mark of many sleepless nights, hung under his worry-filled eyes. “It’s bad.”

  * * *

  Confusion echoed in the mutters and whispers filling the Menagerie. Ilanna stood near the front of the crowd, just behind Master Hawk. If her House Master’s posture—slumped, head hanging down, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose—gave any indication, things were worse than Allon had let on.

  She glanced around. Allon stood with his fellow Hounds. Errik, still covered in the dust of the road, nodded to her as he slid through the crowd of Serpents. Darreth’s fingers twitched, and even the imperturbable Jarl shifted. He, like she, sensed the aura of dread that hung thick in the high-vaulted room. Time and again, his eyes darted to the tarp-covered object in the heart of the Menagerie.

  Ilanna’s curiosity burned. What the twisted hell is under that thing?

  Master Gold climbed to his feet and turned to the assembled Journeymen. “My brothers, sisters, friends, and fellows of the Night Guild. Welcome.”

  It seemed the Guild Master had aged a decade in the weeks Ilanna had been gone. He wore clothing far simpler and duller than his usual bright ensemble, and his face appeared haggard in the alchemical lamplight. Even the ornamental hawk pinned to his breast had lost its luster. The sight only added to dismay creeping into Ilanna’s mind.

  “I call you here with a heavy heart.” Master Gold clasped his hands behind his back. “As you know, our professions carry certain…dangers. Far too many of our number have met untimely ends at the hands of Duke Phonnis and his Praamian Guard. We all understand the hazards of what we do and we do it nonetheless, for better or worse.”