Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  She had promised to deliver the Night Guild's location to the Duke. Betrayal of the Guild, pure and simple. She would turn her friends—Errik, Darreth, Jarl, even Allon—over to the Duke. They wouldn't understand that she'd done so out of a desire to protect not just them, but the city. The Bloody Hand couldn't be allowed to take control.

  What would happen after the Duke drove out the Bloody Hand? She had no doubt the Guild would want vengeance on her for betraying them. She couldn't blame them. Her actions would put an end to the Guild as she knew it.

  But was that such a bad thing? The Guild had brought her nothing but misery her entire life. From the moment the Bloodbears beat her father, she had been fated to a life of suffering. Had she made the deal with the Duke out of an unconscious desire for vengeance?

  Perhaps, but she couldn't think about that now. She had to focus on stealing into the Grand Reckoner's vaults. If she didn't find something the Duke and King could use as leverage, their deal would be void. The Bloody Hand would control the Night Guild and, eventually, Praamis. Everything rested on what she found in the vaults.

  She stood and peered out of the door. The lamp remained in place. She reconsidered her plan. In the long minutes she'd been waiting, she hadn't heard a sound. Surely she could risk the short distance to the nearest intersection. If she moved fast, she could be out of sight in a few seconds.

  Damn it, I have to try. Gritting her teeth, she opened the door wider and slipped out into the corridor. She moved on silent feet, her soft-soled boots noiseless on the carpet. Her heart thundered as she approached the adjoining hallway. She sprinted the last few paces and darted down the corridor toward the storage room where she and Errik had entered the Grand Reckoner's elevator shaft. Not a sound echoed in the darkness as she threw herself into the unlit chamber.

  Drawing out her quickfire globes, she gave the room a quick once-over. The shelf remained where she had left it. The pile of loose stone and dust Errik had pushed beneath a stack of wooden chairs hadn't been disturbed. She dragged the bookshelf to one side and sighed in relief at the gaping hole into darkness.

  Her entrance to the Grand Reckoner's vault had gone undetected.

  Anchoring one end of her rope to the same wooden desk she'd used the last time, she slipped into an improvised rope harness and crawled into the hole. She moved on instinct; her muscles still remembered her previous visit. Within a few minutes, she made the descent and stood before the steel door that led to the hidden vault.

  Once again, alchemical lanterns flickered to life as she wrestled the door open. Ilanna extricated herself from the harness, letting the rope dangle in the shaft. This time, she had no need to search the storage room—she knew exactly where she needed to go.

  She moved through the shelves, her eyes fixed on the ornate bloodwood cabinet she knew contained the private records of both Grand Reckoner Edmynd and Duke Phonnis. She grimaced at the sight of the ten-pin lock. She had the time to spare, but the complexity of the lock would slow her down.

  Sighing, she set to work. Her hands, still not fully healed from the burns, seemed thick and clumsy. Her fingertips had lost a great deal of sensitivity. More than once, she had to retrieve a pick or tension wrench that slipped from her fingers.

  Finally, the lock clicked open. Storing her tools, she opened the cabinet doors. The upper shelves belonged to Duke Phonnis, so she reached for the documents stored on the lower shelves--Grand Reckoner Edmynd's important files.

  She rifled through the priest's documents and scanned the various ledgers stacked in the cabinets. One in particular caught her interest. It detailed deposits of vast sums of money, but with no name of the person to whom the money belonged. Only a date and a notation she didn't understand.

  Something about it nagged at the back of her mind. The Grand Reckoner would only keep something here if he wanted to hide it. Not from thieves, but his own people. What sort of information would he feel needed to be so protected?

  She tried to make out the strange character beside the dates and amounts. Perhaps he'd taken notes in the secretive script of the Illusionist Clerics. But no, this symbol looked nothing like the markings Master Velvet had translated for her. Of anything, it looked like—

  BH! Two vertical lines, with a horizontal line intersecting them, and two half circles above and below the line. A "B" written on top of an "H".

  Ice seeped into Ilanna's veins. It can't be! Would the Grand Reckoner be foolish enough to do what she suspected? Surely not.

  But page after page of notations told her otherwise. Edmynd, the highest-ranking priest of the Apprentice in Praamis, was storing money for the Bloody Hand. It was the only explanation. The rest of the ledgers spoke of equally large fortunes, and beside each deposit was listed the name of the person to whom the money belonged. The ledger in her hands had no name, only the odd-looking symbols. The more she stared at the symbol, the more convinced she became. This is the Bloody Hand's money!

  Details clicked into place. According to the Duke, the Bloody Hand had spent months infiltrating Praamis. They would need access to money, and could only bring so much with them. Where better to stash it than the safest place in the city?

  Such a simple yet clever plan. No one could steal their fortunes, and they could walk into the Temple of the Apprentice and withdraw as much as they wanted whenever they wanted. With the amounts detailed in the ledger, they had enough to buy control of the Night Guild.

  The realization hit Ilanna like a blow to the gut. That had to be their plan all along. The Bloody Hand would make the traitor—or traitors, she amended—very wealthy in exchange for betraying the Night Guild. She could think of only a handful of Journeymen who would turn down such a vast fortune. Most would leap at the chance to take the Bloody Hand's gold.

  If her suspicion proved true, she had found the leverage she sought. The Grand Reckoner could face charges of high treason for assisting the Bloody Hand. She had little doubt the Duke would be eloquent enough to convict him. The priest would give Duke Phonnis anything to save himself from the hangman's noose or the Field of Mercy.

  Ilanna tucked the ledger into a secret pocket in her robes and continued rifling through Grand Reckoner Edmynd's documents. His private correspondence revealed plenty of improprieties with a young noblewoman by the name of Lady Fairen, but nothing incriminating. After an hour of poring over the priest's papers, she gave up. The ledger would serve her well enough. The Duke would have the leverage he wanted, and Ilanna would have the help she needed to drive out the Bloody Hand.

  She replaced everything where she'd found it, yet hesitated before closing the door. The Duke had pledged his help in dealing with the Voramians, but what happened after? He hadn't concealed his disdain for her and the Night Guild. Only the threat of the Bloody Hand had prevented him from arresting her on the spot and ordering her execution. So what would stop him from doing just that the moment they had dealt with the Bloody Hand?

  Not a damned thing, that's what. She hadn't tried to get him to swear to leave her and her friends alone. She knew he'd never go for it. The King seemed like he would hear reason, but the Duke's hatred of the Night Guild—and her, specifically—trumped any argument she could offer. He would see her hang, not just because she was a thief, but because of the damage she'd done to his reputation.

  She re-opened the cabinet and reached for the Duke's documents. There had to be something in here she could use to convince the Duke to leave her alone. Perhaps even leave the Night Guild in peace or, at least, allow the Journeymen to flee. Even the Chief Justiciar of Praamis, a man who lived by a code of law and order, had to have something she could hold over his head. And if there was, it would be here, in the safest place in Praamis.

  Thankfully, sunrise was still hours off. She had plenty of time to scour the Duke's documents and find leverage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The first glimpses of dawn brightened the eastern sky as Ilanna pulled herself onto the roof of the Coin Counter's Temple. The w
eight of the ledger nestled in its hidden pocket reassured her. She had what she'd come for, and more besides. Now to make use of what she'd found.

  She coiled the thin black rope and stuffed it into her satchel. Sunrise would bring most of the Night Guild—and their Bloody Hand minders, no doubt—out of the tunnels. She had to get out of sight before they spotted her.

  She dashed across the rooftop and leapt the narrow gap between the temple and a nearby warehouse. The Ward of Refuge faded behind her as she ran west, then south. No one, not even Errik, knew of the bolt hole she'd set up for just such an occasion. She had chosen a busier part of town; her short stature and dull-colored Guild clothing made it easier for her to blend into heavy traffic. She had to get off the rooftops and down to street level. Up on the Hawk's Highway, she was far too visible.

  Sliding down a rope ladder, Ilanna ducked into the shadows of an alleyway. The muddy street reeked of refuse and garbage. More than once, she slipped on loose debris. Only reflexes honed over years of training in the Perch saved her from a graceless fall. She had just one fresh set of clothes and no access to running water.

  She slipped toward the mouth of the alley and peered into the main avenue. In the Temple Market, a few hundred paces up the street, the first yawning vendors had begun to open their stalls. A few wagons and carts rumbled past, drivers and animals alike groaning at being awake so early. The smell of fresh bread rose from a nearby bakery, reminding Ilanna she hadn't eaten since the previous day. She had the coin, but not the time. Foxes and Grubbers flooded the marketplace during the day, prowling for purses to lift, nobles willing to part with coin, or goods to steal.

  Pulling up her hood, she moved into the street and strode away from the Temple Market. She walked with purpose, eyes fixed on the ground, features hidden in the shadows of her cloak. Without her disguise, the chance of being spotted by her fellow Journeymen or the Bloody Hand increased sharply.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, the way they always did when she thought someone watched her. Without raising her head, she peered under the lip of the hood to scan the streets for any sign of threat.

  There!

  Two streets ahead of her, a handful of men stood in a tight cluster. Two wore the light brown work clothes of House Fox, and a third was clad in ragged, ripped robes. A Grubber. The rest of the men wore simple, rough-spun clothing, but their darting eyes and the dark wooden clubs gripped in their thick-fingered hands identified them as Voramians. Not even House Bloodbear carried cudgels like those. The Guild never dared to carry weapons in the open, for fear of the Praamian Guard. Only the Bloody Hand would flout the law so brazenly.

  Ilanna's gut tightened. One of the Foxes stared directly at her, his eyes following her movements. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her hood. If she could reach the next street, she could turn out of their path before anyone—

  The Fox thrust a finger at her, and the Bloody Hand thugs turned. They hesitated a heartbeat, then waved their clubs and charged toward her.

  Damn it!

  Ilanna abandoned any attempt at hiding. She sprinted toward the nearest intersection, only to find another group of thugs occupied the next corner. She had only one way to run: back.

  She whirled and sprinted the way she'd come, cursing her luck, the Night Guild, and the Bloody Hand. The deserted Temple Market would offer no shelter from her pursuers. The angry shouts behind her would no doubt attract more of the thugs and any Guild members in the area. She would be trapped.

  Thinking fast, she pounded back toward the alleyway she had just exited. The rope ladder hung within reach, giving her a quick way up to the Hawk's Highway. The men chasing her would never follow her up there.

  But instead of climbing, she hurled herself behind a pile of debris and quickly pulled as much of the refuse over her as she could. The reek of rotting fruit flooded her nostrils, making her gag. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

  Footsteps splashed through the mud toward her. The shouts and cries of her pursuers grew louder.

  "Where'd she go?" a man's voice called out. "She just came in here!"

  Something heavy trampled her foot, and Ilanna bit down on a cry.

  "Damn it!" another voice answered. "Musta gone up the damned ladder." The speaker stood a palm's width from her leg.

  "She's bloody quick, she is."

  "Them Hawks know their way 'round these roofs, right enough."

  "It doesn't matter," came a third voice, deep with gravel and anger. "Your Serpents and Hounds are all over the rooftops. Only reason they're still alive is to hunt her down. She won't get far."

  "You don't know her!" the first voice protested. Ilanna recognized Acksul, one of the Foxes. "Once she's up there, you ain't gonna find a trace of her."

  The thump of a meaty fist striking flesh came, followed by a bark of pain.

  "They'll find her," the gravelly voice answered. "And when they do, she'll answer for her crimes. Not just against your precious Guild, but against the Bloody Hand." Harsh laughter rang out in the alleyway. "Rhynd's got something special in mind for her."

  The voices faded as the men left the alleyway. Ilanna remained motionless for long minutes, heart hammering against her ribs. The stink of the garbage piled above her made every second seem an eternity. Yet she made no move to leave.

  Her instincts had proven correct. Her pursuers knew she favored the rooftops, so the rope ladder had been all the evidence they needed to guess where she'd gone. They would waste hours searching the Hawk's Highway for her, never thinking to look in the debris at their feet.

  Looks like all that time with Allon paid off. He'd taught her how to think like a hunter. The more confident the hunter, the easier it was to fool him with simple logic.

  But she wasn't in the clear quite yet. She still had to escape the area without being spotted. Thankfully, sunrise had come and gone. The Temple Market would soon be flooded with merchants, carts, and pedestrians. With the bustle of commerce as cover, she should have no problem slipping away unseen.

  * * *

  After the hours she'd spent buried beneath a mountain of debris—she hadn't dared to move until well after the Lady's Bells rang out the ninth hour—Ilanna was all too glad for the freshness of the night air and the musty scent of damp earth filling the Duke's gardens. She shuddered at the memory of the squelching, squishing, oozing pile she'd hidden in that morning. Though she'd changed her clothing and scrubbed her hair, she doubted she'd smell clean anytime soon. Gods knew she wouldn't feel clean.

  She'd spent the day in hiding, resting in preparation for tonight's endeavor. She needed to be at her best if she was to succeed with this final piece in her plan. Now, creeping through the gardens surrounding Duke Phonnis' mansion, she felt refreshed and ready for whatever lay ahead.

  Ilanna grinned at the memory of the last time she'd been here, on her way to climb the Black Spire. The smiled faded as she remembered Denber. He'd come for her, had dragged her out of the gardens after her fall from the tower. He and Errik had saved her. With Ethen gone, he'd been one of the few people in the Night Guild she could truly call a friend. So many years spent pushing him away, keeping him at arm's length.

  She'd never be able to repay Denber for his kindness, or repair the rift in their friendship. Duke Phonnis had hanged him—an action that had sparked her crusade against the Duke in the first place. But because of Denber, she had a chance at a future. He'd served as the lifeline to her humanity. He'd shown her kindness amidst the unfeeling cruelty of the Night Guild. He had saved her life and, in doing so, had allowed her to save Ria's life and bring Kodyn into the world. She would never see her friend again, but would remember him in every moment of compassion.

  She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Focus, Ilanna!

  The darkness beneath the thick canopy of trees hid her from sight, but she placed her feet with caution. As she'd learned the last time she crept through the gardens, even the snap of a twig or a rustle of tree branches sou
nded eerily loud in the stillness. Her eyes scanned the night for any glimmer of light. The patrol should pass in the next few minutes.

  Her gaze drifted upward, following the monolithic shape rising high into the night. Legends held that the Black Spire predated the city of Praamis. In fact, some whispered that Serenii hands had erected the tower, using a midnight-hued stone no longer found on Einan. Whatever its origin, the Black Spire was said to be impregnable, an unbroken structure with a single barred window at the top. She'd proven that claim false five years earlier.

  A wide open swath of grass stood between her and the base of the Black Spire. She crouched in the shadows of a thick bush and waited for the patrol to pass. Her fingers sought the melted figurine in her pouch. The tin would never hold the complete shape of a hawk again, but the familiar feel of metal brought her comfort.

  Lantern light glimmered off to her left. Ilanna flattened herself to the ground, pulling her hood to cover her face. The rich scent of loam filled her nostrils. For a moment, she was Ilanna the apprentice, creeping through the gardens to attempt the impossible. She still had friends—Ethen, Denber, Jarl, the twins, even Prynn. Master Hawk still lived. She had hope, however slim, of a happy life.

  Then the patrol passed and reality returned. The Ilanna who climbed to her feet faced a life of misery. Everyone she loved—her friends, Master Hawk, Ria, her son—had died. The Bloody Hand held the Night Guild captive. The Praamian Guards, Arbitors, and her fellow Journeymen hunted her. She had made a deal to betray the Guild to the Duke.

  A burden of sorrow settled on her shoulders, but she couldn't allow herself to stop. She had to keep moving, keep trying, keep fighting. She had to find a way to salvage the shattered remains of her life.