The Duke's expression tightened. "Thank you, Brother," he said through clenched teeth.
King Ohilmos laughed again. "Take the offer, Elodon."
The Duke whirled on the King, eyes wide. "What? You would align yourself with--?"
"A thief?" The King nodded vigorously. "Of course I would. Gods know the Night Guild has served us well enough for many years."
The Duke's anger flared. "Against my counsel!"
"Perhaps, but that didn't prevent you from taking the nobles' gold when they faced the threat of theft. You made no complaint when the recent increase in crime led to the Praamian Guard being increased by a full company." The King shook his head. "Face it, Brother. You may believe the Night Guild evil but, if so, they are a necessary one. The Bloody Hand is a plague far worse than a few thieves and assassins-for-hire."
Ilanna couldn't stop her eyebrows from rising. These words, from the King? She knew the Night Guild had a working relationship with the Crown—House Hawk maintained a list of nobles who paid the King for protection. But she hadn't expected such…pragmatism from the ruler of Praamis.
King Ohilmos stood and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know your feelings on the matter, Brother. You have always done what you could to protect us. To protect Praamis. It is why you are Chief Justiciar. There is no one else I would trust with this. Your wisdom and ingenuity have kept the city safe for decades."
Duke Phonnis' expression softened. "Your words mean a great deal, my King." He clenched a fist. "Let me live up to your trust by giving me leave to handle this matter as I see fit. Already, my Arbitors have flooded the tunnels. At any moment, we will uncover the lair of the Night Guild and—"
"I have no doubt of your ability," the King said, holding up a hand. "But the question remains: will you find it in time? You have been scouring the sewer system for weeks—what have you uncovered?"
The Duke's face grew somber, and he said nothing.
"If we had the luxury of time, I would leave it to you, Brother. But we do not. We must set aside the rule of law and order. It is time for war. We are invaded by a foe far more insidious than the barbarian hordes across the Frozen Sea: the enemy within our gates."
Ilanna found the exchange odd. Why didn't the King simply order the Duke to obey?
Duke Phonnis shook his head. "But she is a thief! A criminal!"
King Ohilmos shrugged. "One courageous enough to walk into the palace and ask—" He glanced over the Duke's shoulder at Ilanna "—or should I say demand, our help."
"And you would trust her?" The Duke’s voice rose to a shout. "After all she's done?"
The King shook his head. "Just for a moment, put aside your contempt for the sake of Praamis. Think about what it will mean if the Bloody Hand does gain control."
The Duke’s frown turned to a scowl.
"Everything you despise about us," Ilanna chimed in, "the Bloody Hand is ten times worse."
"I doubt that!" Duke Phonnis snarled. "You lot are a vile poison upon—"
The King held up a hand. "Elodon, trust me when I say the Night Guild is the lesser of the two evils." He shot a glance at Ilanna.
She gave him a wry grin. "High praise."
King Ohilmos actually chuckled. "If it protects the city, is that not more important than some personal grievance of yours? She's offering you precisely what you've wanted since you became Chief Justiciar. And, to sweeten the pot, you'll have everything you need to take that fat bastard Edmynd down a peg. Thief or no, it is a deal we will consider. Carefully."
The King gave his brother a meaningful look, one that caused Duke Phonnis to quirk an eyebrow. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and the Duke sighed. "As you say, Brother." He turned to Ilanna. "What information do you have on the Grand Reckoner?"
Ilanna hesitated. "At the moment, nothing."
Both men turned to regard her with naked suspicion, a hint of anger flaring in the Duke's eyes.
"Do you truly think I would simply walk in here with it on my person?" Ilanna spoke quickly. "There would be nothing to stop you from taking it and throwing me into the dungeons."
The King inclined his head. "Clever."
The Duke's eyes narrowed. "What do you propose?"
"Tomorrow night, I will bring you the information. You will have your men ready to move the moment I hand it over."
Duke Phonnis pondered a moment. "I won't be ready for two days."
"No, we must move—"
"Two days." The Duke's expression grew stubborn. "It takes time to muster an army."
Ilanna didn't like it. She didn't have much choice, either. "So be it," she growled. "You have two days to prepare. But do not gather your men in a visible place. The Night Guild will have eyes on the street. Even a blind fool would notice an army massing within the palace."
The Duke opened his mouth to retort. Ilanna could hear the words "How dare you?" before he formed them.
Salvation came from the King. "Your thoughts?" he asked before the Duke spoke.
"Have your men go about their normal duties, as if nothing were amiss. But once night falls, gather as many as you can here, here, and here." She pointed to three spots on the map: the Warehouse District, the Ward of Piety, and near what was once the southern gate of the Praamian Wall. "When they receive the signal, they must move in."
"What signal?" The Duke stroked his chin, his eyes darting sideways to meet the King’s.
"I leave that to you. But they must all move at once. We must flood the Night Guild in order to catch the Bloody Hand by surprise."
The Duke pursed his lips. After a moment of silence, he returned his gaze to her. "So be it."
"You, Duke, will meet me at the Warehouse District. I will deliver the information to you in person, and show you the location of the Night Guild."
The King’s eyebrows rose. "You play a risky game."
Ilanna met his gaze. "For the sake of my friends, my home, I must."
King Ohilmos inclined his head.
Ilanna turned to the Duke. "You understand what must be done?"
The Duke stiffened. The look in his eyes spoke of his disdain at being commanded by a thief. But he nodded. "I do."
"Then, if that is all for the night, I will take my leave." She held up her hands. "Of course, these will have to come off."
Jaw muscles working, back stiff as a spear, the Duke unlocked her manacles.
"I'll be needing my gear as well." Without waiting, she pushed past him to collect her cloak, bracer, weapons, and pouch. "My thanks, Duke Phonnis. King Ohilmos." With an impertinent bow, Ilanna turned and strode from the room.
Four guards stood outside the door, lowered spear points blocking her path.
"Let her go," the Duke called.
Surprise flashed across the Praamian Guards' faces, but they obeyed their commander. With a wry smile, Ilanna strode out of the Duke's office.
The door clicked shut behind her. She kept her pace steady, half-expecting to feel strong arms grip her shoulders and drag her off to the dungeon. Ten steps. Twenty. Forty. The enormous double doors to the courtyard stood before her. The tension in her spine increased with every heartbeat. Nothing happened.
The moment her foot touched the cobblestones outside the gate, a tremor ran through her legs. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She leaned against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She felt like a rug after a thorough beating.
What in the frozen hell did I just do?
She'd known she needed the Duke's help and hadn't hesitated to ask. But how she had asked! She'd never hesitated to speak with the Guild Council or her fellow Journeymen with such disrespect, but the Chief Justiciar? Her anger at the Duke—the man who had hanged Denber and condemned Werrin to a terrible death in the Field of Mercy—had clearly trumped her good sense.
Not only had she unleashed her rage at the Duke, but she had done the unthinkable: she'd sworn to lead the Arbitors and the Praamian Guard straight to the Guild tunnels. To make thin
gs worse, she had even promised to deliver something to give the Duke leverage over the Grand Reckoner. And what did she have? Nothing.
But she knew where to find it. She had gone into the palace with a plan and, though things had changed, she could still get out of this alive. She could save the Night Guild, drive out the Bloody Hand, and hopefully evade the hangman's noose. It would take a lot of fancy footwork, but it could be done.
It would all start with a visit to the Coin Counter's Temple.
Chapter Seventeen
The sounds of the bustling city barely penetrated Ilanna's exhaustion. She had slept a handful of hours in the last few days. The escape from the Night Guild, her search for the Guild traitor, and her encounter with the Duke had drained her. She lacked the energy to do more than shuffle wearily down the street, which suited her just fine. The slow trudge complemented the grey wig, mud-stained face, eyepatch, and ragged robes of her disguise to perfection. She looked every bit the homeless crone. No one would recognize her as Ilanna.
She hoped.
During her relationship with Allon, the Hound had taught her many tricks of his trade--not only tracking and hunting, but also the art of disguise and deception. When the Hounds hunted, they put themselves in the mindset of their quarry. Where the target went to eat, drink, sleep, the manner of places they frequented, even the skills, personalities, and profession. Understanding these details allowed the hunter to not only follow the prey, but anticipate their movements.
Right now, no one in the Night Guild could possibly expect she'd come to the Ward of Refuge. No doubt the Bloody Hand had invaded the outskirts of the city, hoping to find her among the makeshift huts and tents that provided safe haven for anyone looking to hide. But the Ward of Refuge, the district of Praamis where the temples to the gods stood, not even Allon would think to look for her here.
She couldn't help a moment of anxiety when she spotted a pair of men wearing the orange-trimmed robes of House Fox. She leaned into her slouch, pulled the ratty cap lower, and emphasized her limp. The Journeymen gave her a wide berth but not a second glance.
She allowed herself to be drawn along with the swirling currents of human, animal, and vehicle traffic. The majority moved toward the Ward of Refuge. Merchants sold their wares in the Temple Market or worshipped at the Temples of the Master or the Apprentice. The noblemen and women trying to keep their clothes from brushing against her filthy rags went to pay homage to their deity of choice. The beggars sought food and drink at the House of Need, home to the Beggar Priests. Ilanna had chosen this particular disguise due to the fact that the Beggar Temple stood opposite the Coin Counter's Temple. She could sit on the steps outside the House of Need and study the guards patrolling the Temple of the Apprentice without drawing attention.
Minutes after she found a seat, a fair-haired youth in the rough, grey robes of a Beggar Priest passed with a basket of bread and skins of cheap wine. He handed her a crust with a cheery smile and a "Beggar watch over you."
Ilanna chewed with gusto, ignoring the staleness and mold. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Her need to find the traitor, flee capture, and reach the Duke had driven aside all thoughts of food and sleep. Now, sitting comfortably on the white marble steps of the House of Need, she could think of nothing else.
After an hour, Ilanna stood and departed. The Praamian Guards' patrol around the Coin Counter's Temple hadn't changed. By all appearances, the disappearance of Reckoner Tyren hadn't alerted the priests of her and Errik's break-in to steal from the Grand Reckoner's secret vault. Perhaps the Mistress' luck would be with her and she'd have a clear path. Either way, she couldn't remain on the steps any longer. She'd come far too close to falling asleep already.
Fatigue seeped into her hunched back and exhaustion blurred her vision. She sat on a stone ledge in front of the Temple of the Master, leaning on her knees to catch her breath.
"Here you are, Gran." A half-drake rattled on the stones between her feet. "Get yourself a hot meal, eh?"
"Thankee, sirrah!" Ilanna slurred and dove for the coin. "Beggar's mercy on ye."
The middle-aged, paunchy man before her wore a merchant's frock, but of a cut common among the wealthier men of The Gardens. With a satisfied nod and an air of self-importance, the heavyset man strode off, his silver-tipped cane tapping the cobblestones.
Ilanna couldn't help laughing. The merchant had believed himself generous with a silver half-drake; she had a fortune in gold hidden away. She pocketed the coin and resumed her slow, laborious shuffling away from the Ward of Refuge.
She needed food, rest, and to get out of these filthy clothes. Her hands needed one last application of unguent to heal completely. Whatever was in Darreth's unguent had worked its magic. The stiffness had gone from her palms, and she'd regained much of her dexterity. Though she still fumbled with her lockpicks, she had managed to open the six-pin tumbler guarding the door to her stashhouse.
A familiar smell drifted toward her—a rich, sweet, deep scent. Cacao, the dark brown nibs Ria had called the "Ghandian secret". Ilanna turned to find the source of the smell, as if its presence somehow meant Ria was nearby.
A dark-skinned girl stood beneath a colorful awning a short distance away. For a moment, Ilanna almost dared to hope. The girl had similar features—a long nose, plump lips, pierced nostril and eyebrows, kinky hair, and willowy frame—but it wasn't Ria.
Ilanna swallowed the lump rising in her throat and frowned to hold back threatening tears. The delicious scent of the cacao reminded her of the time she'd spent with Ria, in the garden, playing with Kodyn, pretending to live a normal life outside the Night Guild.
She'd brought Ria into her home out of pity. The Ghandian girl needed a safe haven to recover from the abuses she'd suffered at the hands of her Voramian captors. Over time, she'd come to love Kodyn. She'd been so good with him; she'd known just how to make him laugh when he was sad, to stop his tears when he was crying. She nearly wept at the memory of the afternoon spent learning the Kim'ware war dance with Ria and Kodyn in the garden behind her house.
She and Ria had formed a bond over their mutual love for Kodyn, but it had deepened into something more. The night before she left for Voramis, she had opened her heart to Ria and Ria had done likewise. She'd seen something in the girl's eyes that night, and her heart had echoed the sentiments. That desire to come home to Ria had sustained her during her trials in Voramis as much as her love for Kodyn. She'd been excited—nervous, certainly, but eager as well—to think about a future with Ria. She hadn't given her feelings much thought, but she'd looked forward to finding out what exactly they could have.
The Bloody Hand had taken that from her. Ria had died in the same fire that consumed Kodyn and burned any hope of a happy future to ashes. She would never be able to look in Ria's eyes and see that...whatever it was that bound them together.
"Mama!"
The childish voice drove a spike home in Ilanna's gut. She turned to see a short, curly-haired child racing toward her, arms outstretched. He looked so much like Kodyn that her mother's instinct cried out.
But it wasn't Kodyn. It was a girl, roughly her son's age, but with blonde curls, not black, that hung past her shoulders. The smile, dazzling though it was, lacked the vibrant enthusiasm for life that had made her fall in love with Kodyn every time she saw him. Another woman swept the giggling child into her arms.
The tears came then. Try as she might to stop them, they flowed unchecked. Ilanna ducked into an alley and slid to a seat behind a pile of debris. She didn't care that the muck seeped into her filthy rags or that her muddy disguise ran—the only thing she could think about was the fist of iron squeezing at her heart.
She wept for her beautiful boy, her little Hawk. My Kodyn. She fumbled in her clothing and pulled out the tin hawk. Her fingers traced the figurine's contours as she relived the happy moments she'd spent with her son.
There were so few of them. She hadn't had anywhere near enough time with him. All her efforts
to secure her freedom from the Night Guild, and she would never be able to enjoy seeing her son grow up.
Soon, exhaustion overrode her sorrow. The flow of tears lessened as her eyes grew heavy. Ilanna scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to stand. Her stashhouse—little more than a hole in a very crumbling wall—wasn't far. She needed to close her eyes for a few minutes. Once night fell, she had work to do.
* * *
She breathed a sigh of relief as she tested the window set into the second story of the Coin Counter's Temple. She and Errik had used it to enter the temple previously, and she'd insisted he leave it unlocked the last time they'd been there. Thankfully, none of the Apprentice's priests had found her way in. Without hesitation, she slithered into the darkened storeroom and untied her harness.
Careful not to disturb the thick layer of dust covering the stacked furniture, she crossed to the door and peered into the hallway. A single alchemical lamp hung from a wall sconce at the far end of the corridor. She cursed and considered her options. She could risk it and hope no one entered the corridor, or wait until someone removed the lamp.
She decided to wait. The Lady's Bells had just tolled out the third hour before midnight. She had plenty of time to slip through the tunnels, descend the Grand Reckoner's elevator shaft, and rifle through his documents.
She slid to a seat behind the door and closed her eyes. She'd rested for an hour, perhaps two. The hot meal and fresh change of clothes had helped. She no longer felt the fatigue that had plagued her earlier, but she'd learned to seize any chance to rest.
She drew out the melted tin hawk and stroked its smooth surface. With every breath, the tension in her muscles relaxed and her mind began to drift. The events of the last week were overwhelming—from the success of her heist to the promise of freedom from the Guild to the loss of her son, Ria, Master Hawk, and Master Gold. The invasion of the Night Guild. Her arrangement with the Duke and King Ohilmos. Each added a new weight to the burden she carried. She'd lost everything—her childhood, her innocence, her family, her friends, and now her freedom. She had to focus on what came next, the next step in the plan. She couldn't stop moving forward for fear it would all come crashing down.
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