Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  The Bloody Hand thugs seemed to be struggling not to grin as they watched the exchange, making no move to interfere.

  "If we weren't in public, Gara, I swear I'd teach you a lesson you'd never forget." He seized her hair and pulled, giving her enough time to find her own feet. "We'll put this right, lads," he called to the thugs over his shoulder as he hustled her down the alley. "Next time you see her, she'll be as sweet as an angel."

  "Might want to think about getting a bigger prick, though," one of the thugs called after them.

  Laken shouted an insult back and half-dragged, half-shoved her down an adjoining street. The reek of rotten vegetables mixed with the stench of discarded beef and pig offal, and a thick layer of green-grey mud covered the floor. Ilanna nearly slipped but caught herself on a rough brick wall.

  Laken released her and doubled back to peer around the corner. When he returned, he wore an expression of mixed relief, chagrin, and fear. "Please forgive me, Master Gold." His voice held more than a little terror. "They were looking right at us, and I was certain they were going to stop us. I had—"

  She held up a muck-covered hand. "Peace, Laken. You thought and acted quickly." With a wry grin, she rubbed her shoulder. "I might have suggested an alternate plan, but you saved us."

  The worry faded from his face, and he let out a long sigh.

  She fixed him with a stern glare. "If I ever hear this story so much as whispered around the Guild, however, I'll cut your balls off myself, roast them, and feed them to every Journeyman of House Hound. Do you understand?"

  The Hound's eyes flew wide, his fear returning. "O-Of course, Guild Master."

  "So long as that's clear." Ilanna gave him a syrupy smile. "Now let's get off the streets before we have any more trouble."

  * * *

  "Fiery hell, you reek!" Keltor pinched his slim nose with a delicate hand.

  "Get stuffed, Kel," Laken snarled. "You try wading through the alleys of Voramis and see if you come out smelling like roses and lilies."

  Their encounter with the Bloody Hand had left both of them wary of the main avenues and thoroughfares. They'd opted to return via the back streets of Lower Voramis. Unfortunately, the concept of cleanliness seemed even more foreign here than in Praamis. People emptied slop buckets out their windows, and only Ilanna's quick reflexes had saved them from being doused in Keeper-knew-what unmentionable liquids and solids. The denizens that lived in the parts of Voramis unseen from the more heavily-traveled streets emptied their bladders and bowels wherever they chose. In places, the piles of debris, refuse, and more than a few unconscious and drugged people rose as high as their knees.

  The journey had been made in tense silence, the only sound the wet slurp of booted feet struggling through ankle-high mud. Laken refused to meet her eyes, and she'd caught him flinching whenever she drew too close. He'd recover, in time. For now, she welcomed the instinctive fear her reputation inspired. He'd keep his mouth shut, that was certain.

  While Laken bickered with Keltor, Ilanna slipped out of her soiled clothes and into a fresh tunic and breeches. Her boots had kept out the odd-colored fluids mixing with the muck and mire of the back alleys, but she'd have to get a new pair once this was all done. She had no desire to bring that particular miasma of odors back to Praamis with her.

  "Are you certain?" Keltor was asking when Ilanna returned her attention to the two Journeymen. "How could they have known we were here?"

  Laken shrugged. "No idea." He scratched his stubbled cheek. "Truth be told, I don't think they knew we were here. All I heard was they were looking for Master Gold, not for the Night Guild."

  "A fine distinction." Keltor sniffed.

  "Yet an important one," Ilanna chimed in. Both men turned toward her. "So they know I'm here, but they don't know about the rest of you. Perhaps they'll assume I have people with me, but they won't know who or how many. As long as you don't do anything to give yourselves away, you should be able to continue moving around unimpeded."

  The Journeymen seemed to ponder the statement.

  Keltor nodded first. "A fair point, Guild Master." His slim lips puckered, and a line deepened in his forehead. "Which means you're confined to the inn, at least until dark."

  "Agreed," Ilanna said. "Under cover of night, I should have no problem staying out of trouble. Or fleeing from it."

  She glanced out the window. The sun still shone high in the sky; she had at least three or four hours until sunset. A younger Ilanna would have hated the idea of being cooped up; now, she almost welcomed it. After a sleepless night, she could use a few hours of rest.

  "Right, then," Laken said, heading for the door. "Back off to beat the streets." He tugged on the pocket of his vest, setting the coins jingling. "I can hear the taverns of Voramis calling."

  Ilanna rolled her eyes. When the door closed behind the Hound, she turned to Keltor. "Any word from the Serpents?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing."

  Ilanna let out a slow breath. Nothing from Errik and Sys meant Lord Torath and Lord Damuria were still holed up in their mansions. In a way, that was good news—at least she knew where to find them.

  Now, if only I can figure out how to get to them.

  She lay on the room's second bed and closed her eyes, bringing to mind the images of the Damuria and Torath mansions. Both had plenty of vulnerabilities, but only after she got over—or under—the walls and past the men guarding them. Perhaps tomorrow Graeme would be at The Angry Goblin, and she could convince him to guide her through the Serenii tunnels. If not, at least he could point her to an entrance near enough to the mansions that she could find her own way in.

  She worked at the problem but made little progress. Her mind kept wandering back to the dark-skinned girl and the boy—no, Kodyn's a young man now—waiting for her in Praamis. A smile touched her lips as she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of her home and family.

  * * *

  "Guild Master." A hand shook Ilanna's shoulder. "Guild M—"

  Her eyes snapped open and she was on her feet, drawing her dagger and pressing it to her assailant's neck in the same motion.

  The man before her froze, hands held high. "I-It's me, Master Gold!" Fear echoed in his voice and filled his wide eyes.

  Ilanna stared at him with unseeing eyes. For a moment, she still lived in the world of dreams, reliving the terrors of her past: locked a darkened room with a dozen weeping children, screaming in agony as Sabat shattered her bones, the horror of the green flames burning her home and family to ash.

  Her mind snapped back to reality. In the dim moonlight, she recognized the man's broad, friendly features. "Laken?" she asked.

  The Hound nodded, gaze fixed on the dagger against his throat. "I'm sorry to wake you, but…" He swallowed.

  She lowered the dagger. "Tell me," she said, her voice deliberately calm after her violent reaction. "What news?"

  Laken rubbed his throat. "I-I think something big is happening tonight."

  Ilanna's mind was instantly alert, all traces of sleep gone. "Tell me everything."

  The Hound drew in a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "I'd been hanging around the taverns and alehouses in the Merchant's Quarter, chatting up locals, buying drinks, and keeping an ear out for rumors floating around." His expression grew pensive. "One of my new drinking companions had a piece of friendly advice for me: 'Keep clear of the docks, boyo,' he told me. 'Nuthin' good's goin' on there after dark.'"

  He hesitated. "After a couple more taverns and far too much to drink," he said with a grimace, "I managed to get a bit more information from some other roustabouts and dockhands. Seems like most people know to steer clear of the southern half of the Port of Voramis tonight—from the second or third hour after dark until sunrise."

  Ilanna pursed her lips. It didn't take a genius to guess the reason why everyone would avoid the port.

  "What's more," Laken continued, "I got the sense that this happens regular-like."

  That confirmed it. "The Bloody Ha
nd," she snarled.

  Laken nodded. "Only thing I could think of."

  Ilanna clapped his back. "Good job, Laken!" She spun back to the bed and reached for her belt, weapons, and cloak. "Southern half of the port, you said?"

  "Yes, Guild Master." He spoke in a hesitant voice. "If you'd like, I could let Master Serpent and the others know--"

  "Do that!" Ilanna stalked toward the door. "Tell Errik—Master Serpent—to come to the docks. I'll want him to be ready to move when I give the signal. Have him bring Athar or Sys, if he can spare one."

  "Signal." Laken repeated the word in a wooden tone. "Guild Master," he said, his voice hesitant, "no disrespect meant, but do you think it's wise to—"

  Ilanna cut him off with an upraised finger. "Don't finish that sentence, Laken."

  The Hound's mouth snapped shut, his face coloring. "But the Bloody Hand is looking for you."

  "Aye, that they are." Ilanna nodded. "And do you think they'll expect me to be walking right toward them? Only a fool would do that."

  Laken looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely held his tongue.

  "Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, but I can look after myself."

  "F-Forgive me, Guild Master," Laken stammered. "I meant no offense."

  "And I took none." Ilanna checked her daggers and sword in their sheaths. "But you have your orders, so carry them out."

  Laken bowed. "Of course, Guild Master." He turned toward the door.

  "Laken." Her call stopped him with his hand on the latch. "Once you pass the message to Master Serpent, you're to take his place."

  Laken's face fell.

  "I admire your desire to take a stand against the Bloody Hand—Keeper knows we need more stalwarts willing to bring them a taste of their own foul medicines. I do not doubt your skill at arms; Master Serpent would not have brought you otherwise. But you have other talents that will serve me and the Night Guild better."

  The dismay on Laken's face diminished, but didn't disappear completely. "As you say, Master Gold." With a short bow, he slipped out of the room.

  Ilanna opened her pouch and ran a practiced eye over the assorted tools within. She doubted she'd need the lockpicks, but the other items—leather gloves, quickfire globes, alchemical beamer lamp, even the curved finger knife—would come in handy.

  She'd just turned to climb out the window when she caught the creak of the floorboard outside the room. A moment later, the door opened and Keltor entered, a frothing tankard in hand.

  "Ah!" He started at the sight of her, splashing a few drops of ale onto the floor. "Ahh," he said in a calmer voice after he recovered, "Guild Master, I did not expect to see you awake." He raised an eyebrow. "And, it seems, going out? Surely the streets of Voramis aren't—"

  Ilanna cut him off with a sharp gesture. "If you say 'safe', Keltor, I'll send you back to Praamis tied between two mules."

  Keltor frowned. "Empty threats don't become you, Guild Master. No doubt were Master Serpent here, he'd suggest the same."

  "And I'd ignore him just the same." Ilanna gave a dismissive wave. "Enjoy your ale. If Master Serpent sends word through Athar, let him know that I've gone to the Port of Voramis."

  "The port?" The Scorpion's brow furrowed. "What's so important that you'd take the risk?"

  Ilanna shrugged. "All I know is that the entire southern half of the port's been cleared out."

  Keltor's eyes widened. The Port of Voramis accommodated hundreds of cargo ships, boats, pleasure yachts, and barges. Thousands of dockhands, vessel crews, tax collectors, and merchants plied their trades in the port, and thousands more plied the crafts of thievery, pick-pocketing, prostitution, and press-ganging. To clear out the entire southern half required the sort of power and influence only wielded by King Gavian and his Justiciars, or the Bloody Hand.

  "That is worth checking out," Keltor agreed. "Would it not be wiser to send the Serpents?"

  Ilanna shrugged. "Perhaps. Did Athar bring any news while I slept?"

  Keltor shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Which means Lord Damuria and Lord Torath are still exactly where we left them. But I don't want to miss whatever the Bloody Hand is doing tonight. We can't afford to wait for Athar to show up and get word back to Master Serpent."

  Keltor pursed his prim lips. "I don't like it, but I can't argue the logic."

  Ilanna climbed onto the windowsill. "I sent Laken to alert Errik, but if for some reason he misses Athar, I need you here to tell them where I've gone."

  With a sigh, Keltor nodded. "So be it. May the Watcher in the Dark protect you."

  Ilanna gave him a wry grin. "Tonight, I will be the one doing the watching."

  Chapter Nine

  Ilanna flattened herself against a stack of wooden pallets and drew in slow, steady breaths. The tromp of heavy boots grew louder, accompanied by the dim light of torches blown by the crisp wind rolling off the Endless Sea. A trio of Bloody Hand thugs marched past a scant ten paces from her hiding place. The whipping breeze carried away their low conversation, but Ilanna had no need to hear what they said. No doubt they were busy complaining about being stuck out here, where their torches did little to ward off the darkness and chill.

  Ilanna slithered deeper into the shadows and ducked under the prow of a dry-docked ship. When she emerged from behind the massive vessel, the thugs had disappeared. A faint glimmer of light on the far side of a long line of stacked barrels marked their position clearly.

  The Bloody Hand had a reputation for ruthlessness and violence, but clearly professionalism and efficiency mattered far less than the ability to crack skulls. She'd had no problem avoiding the straggling bands of thugs sent to patrol the docks. It seemed more a formality than a necessity, as if the Five Fingers that ruled the criminal organization had total confidence in their control over the city. No one would dare to disobey them for fear of reprisal.

  Ilanna had lost her fear of the Bloody Hand long ago. She would sneak into the First's stronghold and put a dagger in him if she knew where to find it. Sneaking through the empty port and evading the Bloody Hand thugs proved a far less daunting task.

  Unfortunately, the last hour of search had yielded nothing but the reek of rotting fish and decaying ocean debris. She'd contemplated following the patrolling thugs and hope they led her where she wanted to go, but decided she'd waste less time searching the port for herself. Until now, her decision seemed the poorer choice.

  Yet, as she rounded a massive wooden storage structure, she caught a glimmer of torchlight, accompanied by the sound of rattling metal and feet pounding on a wooden gangway. Heart pounding with nervous anticipation, she hurried toward the sound as quickly as she could while hugging the shadows.

  At the far end of a wooden pier, a mid-sized cargo ship sat at anchor. Lamps cast a faint radius of light across the ship's deck, but from her vantage point, she couldn't get a clear glimpse of the figures moving about on board. There was no mistaking the four huge, heavily-muscled figures waiting on the dock.

  She'd found the Bloody Hand.

  She slipped closer, her soft-soled boots padding across the stone dock without a sound. A barrel provided her with a stepping stone to leap up and grab ahold of the top of a shed. With no more noise than a midsummer zephyr, she crawled to the end of the roof closest to the ship.

  The vantage gave her a better view of the figures on board the ship. Two rough-looking sailors held wooden truncheons, while a third knelt over a locked hatch set into the deck. Another sailor busied himself with the rigging. As she watched, a man wearing the garb of the ship's captain appeared from the cabin, followed by a grizzled man carrying a drawn cutlass. The captain shouted something at the kneeling man, who tugged open the hatch and peered in.

  A head emerged from the hatch, then the slim, short figure of a young girl. For a moment, Ilanna thought the night's shadows obscured her features. But when the girl stepped into the light of the torches burning aboard the ship, Ilanna's jaw dropped.

  G
handians!

  Another girl climbed from the hatch, followed by a third, fourth, more. Tattered rags hung from their willowy frames, the grey material contrasting sharply with their ebony skin. Blood, sweat, and worse plastered their kinky hair to their scalps. More than a few limped, hobbled, or sported facial bruises. One cradled her wrist close to her chest. Ilanna caught a glimpse of striped and shredded flesh on more than one dark back.

  Disgust churned in her gut. The rattle of chains carried on the night breeze, and light glinted off the steel manacles securing their wrists, ankles, and necks. One of the sailors gave a vicious yank on the lead chain, sending one column of girls stumbling forward. When they failed to move fast enough, another sailor struck the rearmost girl in the lower back with a truncheon.

  A memory flashed through her mind: a dark-skinned girl lay chained to a soiled bed, her cheeks hollow and eyes dull from narcotics. Ria had looked like that the day Ilanna found her, all those years ago. Little more than skin and bones, her body wasted. She would have died—either of repeated abuse, malnourishment, and thirst or at her own hands—had Ilanna not rescued her.

  This was the primary difference between the Night Guild and the Bloody Hand. The Guild was filled with thieves, killers, cruel men and women. Yet they followed laws, imposed both by their own Houses and--unbeknownst to them--the Crown, through Master Gold. Under Ilanna's tenure, conditions for those in the Guild and Praamis had improved, if only slightly.

  Yet the Bloody Hand operated without restrictions, without oversight. King Gavian was too terrified to resist, and the Heresiarchs and Justiciars turned a blind eye or played willing participants. The Five Fingers encouraged anything that turned a profit, no matter how much misery it brought to Voramis and the rest of Einan. They did what they pleased, uncaring of who they harmed.

  Which is why they have to be stopped. If not by me, by someone.