So Tarthur heard the words Akin was saying without listening to them, and stared blankly ahead. He had learned a lot about Yvonne. He had learned that she was a poor street girl who had no father or mother, although whenever she talked of her father she talked with contempt and almost spat the words, yet when she spoke of her mother she talked with a loving sadness. Tarthur could see that she didn’t offer any further information, and he didn’t press the subject. Yvonne had also mentioned that she had a twin sister named Yvette, and this was how they had tricked Tarthur into believing that he was chasing only one thief. Tarthur laughed at this cheap trick, with admiration for Yvonne for thinking of it and foolishness for himself for falling for it. He resolved in his mind that just because they had a wary friendship didn’t mean that he still didn’t owe her. He would never forget to repay her.
Yvonne had also said that she and her sister were the heads of the Guild of Thieves, an organization that most respectable people spat on but that Yvonne made pains to point out did much good. It was a loosely knit organization of thieves from all ages and backgrounds who were united by their poverty. The guild clothed and fed and housed all who were in need, and also trained them to commit acts of larceny from the richer members of the town. Tarthur liked the way Yvonne created her own euphemisms. He felt as if she would fit in very well with his friends back in Krendon. By way of softer words, she turned the act of blatant stealing into “helping the rich give to charity,” thereby “much improving their standing with the Creator.” And—as she pointed out, Tarthur could personally attest to this fact—they were very good at what they did.
“So then the forces are really only manifestations of inner desires, which can be summed up by the magical term…Tarthur?”
“Huh?”
“No, Tarthur,” Akin sighed tiredly. “The term for the forces of your inner desires is not ‘huh?’ It is Loi. Please attempt to pay attention.”
The day passed much in this way, Tarthur trying weakly to listen and learn and then failing miserably with interludes of Akin exhorting him to give more effort, followed by more times of Tarthur falling asleep. When the classes finished for the day, Tarthur gratefully went through the castle halls and slipped into his bed.
He was awakened a few hours later by Derlin, who was returning from the evening meal that Tarthur had missed. “Akin must be working you hard if you’re so tired already. You missed some great roast venison.” Tarthur just groaned and rolled over in his bed to escape the light that had followed Derlin in. Derlin was not daunted by his friend and knew he would be up and about shortly. “Come on, Tarthur, show me something Akin taught you. Look at this—this is what I’ve learned.” Derlin finished off his words with a flourish of different techniques, which Tarthur, now sitting up in his bed, had to admit looked crisp and effective.
“We haven’t learned anything specific yet,” Tarthur sleepily replied. “Just a few general things about magic and stuff.”
“I see,” said Derlin, obviously disappointed. He nodded for a moment, and then brightened. “Tarthur, guess who I saw today?” Then he replied before Tarthur could guess. “Yonathan. After my training, I went to see him in the infirmary. He’s just beginning to sit up and eat well again. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Tarthur nodded. It was indeed good to hear that Yonathan was doing better. It seemed so long ago that they had come to the castle with the wounded assistant mayor of Freeton. Things seemed to be so different now, and he knew that the biggest difference was Yvonne.
“Tarthur,” Derlin continued, “when I first started these classes, I was miserable. But now I know that Sir Terin has so much to teach me! I thought I knew everything back in Krendon, but now I realize I didn’t know a thing back then.” Derlin paused a minute to shake Tarthur awake again and then pressed his friend one more time. “So at least tell me something you learned. I am excited to know about magic myself.”
Tarthur looked at his friend sleepily. “Nothing. We learn nothing. In fact, it’s just a waste of time. I sit there all day and listen to some boring old man talk about things that make no sense.”
Derlin frowned, worried. “You mean, you’re not learning anything? Tarthur, that’s not good.” Derlin paused for a moment while he mulled over the dilemma, then an idea suddenly hit him. “If you’re not working hard, why are you so tired today?”
“I was up until five talking with that girl Yvonne on a park bench last night,” Tarthur mumbled with marked disinterest.
Derlin was aghast. “Tarthur, you lied to me! You told me that you would wait to see her! Why did you do that?”
Tarthur was unfazed by his friend’s expression. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie but I really just didn’t think about my promise. It didn’t ever cross my mind. Besides, what’s the big deal anyway? Just take care of yourself and I’ll take care of myself.”
Derlin exploded. “What’s the big deal?!! The fate of the world is the big deal! Don’t you understand, Tarthur? We always play tricks and have fun at home, but there are times for games and there are times to be serious. Now is the time to be serious! This is not one of your games!”
“So just because I met a girl now you want to become so righteous all of a sudden?” Tarthur was fully awake now, and his retort was full of bite. “Now that I have something special you don’t want me to have it!”
Derlin was shouting now, his harsh words drowning out any feeble protests that Tarthur would attempt. “You fool, that’s not it! I don’t care at all about that girl. But you are right, you do have something special—your life. And you have been chosen to have power. Don’t you see? Your life is not just yours anymore! It’s not yours! You have a responsibility to use it for the whole world! Yes, a responsibility! Do you know that word? Maybe the Death Lord chose you because you can’t do anything with your power! He knew you would waste it.” Derlin held up his hand as Tarthur tried to protest. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t matter now. Think of Yonathan, Tarthur. He was ready to die for you. To give up his life just for you and you treat it like it is nothing!”
“I know what he did,” countered Tarthur. “I felt his blood running warm through my hands. I saw his pain! I know just as well as you that there will be a war, and other people will bleed like him!”
“Then why don’t you do something about it!” With this statement, Derlin turned, walked through the door and slammed it shut, and Tarthur was left alone to think. He sat alone for a long while, slowly nodded his head, and began to cry.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, the boys never again talked of their conversation. Derlin returned to his studies, and achieved the first order of Royal Knighthood in record time. He ate and grew strong, and soon was a rival for students who had been practicing many years. Tarthur, for his part, continued to see Yvonne, but only during the recesses of his studies. He gave himself over to the study of magic as his first priority, and in so doing learned many useful things. Tarthur realized that Akin was different in style and manner from himself, and while he would never allow anyone to suggest that he was imitating Akin, Tarthur did gain an admiration for the man and all that he knew of the secret world of magic. Tarthur and Yvonne grew closer and Tarthur began to feel things that he had never felt before.
Tarthur visited Yvonne in almost all of his free time, and he would have liked Derlin to come with him, but Derlin got very few chances indeed because he didn’t have any free time. He was always needed by Sir Terin and Sir Undbar for various war preparations. There was so much to do that Tarthur seriously doubted that they would have it all ready in time for spring.
One of these visits was a day that Tarthur would always remember. Tarthur walked through the door and was greeted by warm smiles from children and adults alike. The members of the Guild of Thieves often joked with Tarthur since Yvonne had revealed him to the thieves as their mysterious benefactor. Tarthur chuckled with them outwardly, but inside he laughed at something else; this was the day that he would get them back
.
Tarthur had been searching and searching for a way to get back at Yvonne since the original incident, but he had been able to come up with nothing. Then one day he had been sitting out on the castle wall when he had seen a cloaked and hooded figure walk cautiously through the gates and into a tunnel. Tarthur had recognized the figure at once as Yvonne. He could tell her by her gait and the smooth yet rugged way that she walked. But what was she doing here? Without hesitation, Tarthur followed her into the tunnel, just before the entrance had swung shut. Tarthur had a vain hope that she was there to do something for him, but then chased it away as she went deep into the fortress. She obviously knew where she was going.
Careful not to be seen, Tarthur followed her until she stopped and entered a room lit by torch light. Tarthur waited until she had shut the door and then cautiously peeked through the keyhole. What he saw inside made him gasp. Yvonne was having a conference with Sir Terin. Listening at the door, Tarthur had heard enough to realize that the Guild of Thieves was linked with the crown! When the meeting had concluded, Tarthur had hurriedly left and remained unseen. It was not until a few days later when he had spoken with Sir Terin that he had finally ascertained the truth.
Upon first being confronted alone in his study, Sir Terin denied it and pretended not to have the slightest clue what Tarthur was talking about. But when he realized that Tarthur had seen too much, he knew that he must tell him at least part of the story. Tarthur took a seat and then Sir Terin began.
“You see, Tarthur,” the knight started, “there is a lot more to court policies than just the rule of the king. The king must have money for his programs, and most of the money is hoarded by rich nobles. In order for the king to govern, he may use money from the royal treasury, but he must also ask the nobles for money. Ask, Tarthur, not order. Oh, the nobles will soon enough help in a time of war, but in peace, they are very stingy with their riches.”
“About seven years ago, the situation in our city was desperate. There were homeless people in nearly every street and there were robberies and beatings and murders. King Garkin saw this and made a welfare plan to try to combat it. He wanted to set up houses for the homeless and places where they could receive food and rest; he wanted to find jobs for them also. His majesty was so excited about his ideas, and when the nobles refused to fund the plan, he was furious. Fortunately, our king is a wise man. He told me, secretly of course, to organize a so-called Guild of Thieves. The original leader was a man named Qeunten, and when he disappeared, the girl Yvette and her sister Yvonne naturally assumed leadership. They provide care for the needy, and we give them jobs in whatever area of government is open. They also are a high class bunch of thieves. They only steal from the rich, and they give us information about any real criminals in the city so we can arrest them. In return, the guild is not touched and we supply them with information about the movements of some of the nobles who are particularly opposed to the king, and those very same nobles often watch the sun set with a much lighter purse than they watched it rise.”
“They also serve as a part of the intelligence agency that you heard mentioned at the council meeting. They are an incredible help to the kingdom, and they only take gold from people who won’t be hurt by losing it.”
Tarthur was struck by the cleverness of the plan. It was brilliant. It made him wonder how many other hidden things and secret alliances were right under his nose. There were probably quite a few. Tarthur felt privileged. “So how many other people know this?”
Sir Terin thought for a moment and then released the information. “You, me, Yvonne, Yvette, the king, and of course the head of the intelligence agency.”
Tarthur nodded. He would have liked Sir Terin to tell him who the head was; he remembered that it was someone who had been in the council room. But it was such a heavily guarded secret, Tarthur was sure that he would never know. “So why was Yvonne coming to talk to you?”
Sir Terin frowned. “Recently, it seems that there has been an increase in calls for an end to guild activity. We have shrunk the membership drastically by recruiting many of them for the army, but there are still others who could not serve. The nobles are feeling the money that is stolen more deeply now that they also have to give large amounts to the war effort. Officially, there is no such thing as the Guild of Thieves, but many nobles still know about it and are calling for a crackdown on crime. Yvonne and I were meeting to discuss possible solutions to the problem.”
“Why not arrest them?” Tarthur questioned, a bright idea coming into his head.
Sir Terin looked at Tarthur tiredly. “I have already told you that they have full immunity.”
“No,” Tarthur said. “Arrest them and then let them go after a couple of days. The nobles will think that the guild is destroyed and they will thank you for a job well done. Then they can continue on the streets and no one will be the wiser.”
Sir Terin thought about it a moment, then nodded his assent, for it was a good plan. Now Tarthur waited in the guild, for it was time to put the plan into action, with his own modifications, of course.
Yvonne and Yvette walked through the door and smiled. Everyone smiled with them, and cheered for them, for this was their birthday. Tarthur couldn’t think of anything better; his plan was good enough, but doing it on Yvonne’s birthday just poured salt in the wound and rubbed it around. “Happy birthday!” the guild cried in unison. Tarthur was walking up to Yvonne to congratulate her personally when he was interrupted by a loud crash.
Royal soldiers splintered through the walls and converged on the unsuspecting thieves. Big burly men closed in from all sides and swiftly arrested the elderly and young thieves before they could even think to run. Only a couple of the thieves really had any chance of escape, and these were soon overwhelmed. A muscular and quick guard darted forward for Yvette, but she sidestepped him and grabbed a piece of the broken wall, then swung it down on his head. The man slumped unconscious to the floor. Another man charged forward for her and she swung the wood into his side. The man doubled over in pain, but Yvette’s wood broke in half. She threw the useless half at an officer, who moved his head easily out of the way. Three men ran forward and overwhelmed her.
Tarthur was the only one to escape. He had used his foreknowledge of the attack to hide under a bench where he knew the guards would not look. He felt sorry for the guards who had been injured, but it did make the attack more believable. As he surveyed the remains, he noticed that all of the thieves had been captured. Yvonne had been grabbed and was yelling and screaming, demanding that they take her to Sir Terin the leader for an explanation of their gross mistreatment. “Sir Terin’s not in charge anymore,” growled the officer, just as Tarthur had asked him to. After that, Yvonne shut up, and Tarthur smiled as the soldiers led the members of the Guild of Thieves into the castle.
The same night, Tarthur visited Yvonne in the prison. He told her how sorry he was that she had gotten caught, and that he was just lucky to have escaped. It was either that or he had incredible maneuvering skills and superior senses of danger. Tarthur wasn’t sure, it was probably the latter. He also told her of the one chance that they had. Yvonne had noticed a tunnel leading out of their particular prison cell that was hidden and barred by a locked door. If she could just get out and open it from the other side, they might have a chance for freedom.
“I have been talking to a guard,” Tarthur began, “and I can persuade him to look the other way to your escape. It will take a little gold, however.”
“How much?” Yvonne had some gold with her, but by no means wished to spend any of it.
“At first he said thirty gold pieces, but in the end I got him down to twenty four.”
Yvonne was incredulous. “Twenty four gold pieces! Why, that’s exactly twice as much as I stole from you!”
Tarthur turned his face away so Yvonne would not see the twinkle in his eye nor the grin that came to his lips. “I know.”
First Yvonne had been adamant in her denial, but Tart
hur informed her that this guard was leaving the next day on a supply mission to Breshen and this would be her only chance. When he pointed to the elderly who were sick and might not live too long in the damp cell she finally agreed and slammed the money into Tarthur’s waiting palm. Tarthur smiled at her anger. “Hey, you should thank me. I’m doing you a favor.”
The next day Yvonne easily escaped, and when she had made it past the castle walls Tarthur told the guards to bring the key to the tunnel door, give it to Yvette, and instruct her to release three people each day. In the meantime, the rest were given good food and had the time of their lives.
The next time Tarthur met Yvonne, after the whole affair was concluded, he did not mention his plan. He had a burning desire to do so, to rub it in her face which would be made crimson by blushing, but stopped himself. Yvonne also said nothing, but Tarthur could tell that she knew. And that was all that mattered.
The days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, and soon the bulk of the army was ready to set out for Breshen in the first leg of its journey that would lead to the abode of the Death Lord. It was late in the month of February, and General Cilio had determined it best to attack in early April at the latest. Tarthur was dreading the day when he would have to take his leave of Yvonne, but a few days before they were scheduled to depart Yvonne had abruptly told him that she was going with him. Not asked to accompany him, but told him she would journey also. Tarthur tried to protest that it was too dangerous, but she laughed at that, saying that she could handle herself and would stay at Breshen if she was in any real danger. Tarthur didn’t believe that she would stay, but his feeble protests were soon drowned out. Besides, inside he really wanted her to come anyway.
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 22