Forbeck slowed his pace as he approached a group of warehouses and frowned. Vos soldiers stood around the buildings, perhaps seeking to catch another thief.
Not wanting to be stopped and questioned, Forbeck turned and limped towards the city proper, faintly annoyed that his reverie had been disturbed. He picked up the barely cobbled path of Cliffside Way, ignoring the unwholesome odours that emanated from some of the terraced houses.
Another patrol turned a corner ahead of him, and started marching down the street. Thinking their presence and manner a little too coincidental, Forbeck turned abruptly and headed down one of the many alleys that ran between the terraced blocks. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable thuds of armoured men picking up their pace.
Once within the alley, Forbeck stopped and stood with his back flat against the stone wall. Within a single breath he had gathered the shadows about him. As the soldiers turned into the alley, he gave them a scornful look while they searched for him, his magically enhanced stealth rendering him invisible. After a few seconds, their sergeant ordered them forward, guessing their fugitive had run down the alley and was now in another street.
Forbeck allowed himself a quick smirk before he released the shadows about him and continued on his journey.
As soon as he stepped out of the alley, he sensed something was wrong.
Forbeck saw a cowled figure detach itself from the shadows of a rundown block of houses. He saw a flash of fine silks under heavy cloth, as well as a glimpse of a blade. Above all, he felt a surge of arcane power, just hovering at the edge of his attuned senses.
Deciding this was an encounter best avoided, Forbeck turned to head back down the alley, but saw another cloaked figure slowly walking towards him from the other end. This one had the suggestion of a woman in the way it carried itself and, again, he felt a surge of magical energy as it approached. When others arrived, seven in total, all wreathed in the same pale cloaks, Forbeck understood.
“So,” he said. “You are here.”
There was no reply as the figures closed in. As they approached, each figure raised their hands, and Forbeck felt a wave of power roll towards him. Leaning on his cane, he braced himself, but was still forced to take a step backwards. He felt the power build up within the cabal again, and he realised that they were not casting a spell as such, merely finding links between them that they could use to focus and magnify one another’s energy.
“Fascinating,” Forbeck said.
He closed his eyes briefly, calling upon his own magical reserves, then brought his cane down with a sharp rap. Fire erupted where he stood and radiated away from him at great speed, incinerating weeds and discarded parchment in its path. The cabal stopped, now standing just a few yards away. He felt a wave of power pulse from them once again, and watched it just roll over his flames, snuffing them out instantly.
Not even slowed down by his magic, the invisible wave of energy continued toward Forbeck and slammed into him with devastating force. He dropped to his knees. The pain, concentrated right into the centre of his mind, was nearly overwhelming.
Gritting his teeth, Forbeck slowly raised himself back to his feet. Looking up at the faceless figures of the cabal, he dimly began to formulate a plan. He doubted any one of them could best him in a duel, but somehow they had developed the ability to fuse their talents together, making them far more powerful than any one mage. However, every chain has a weak link...
Forbeck reached forward to unleash a bolt of arcane fire at the figure in front of him. It was a crude spell, but potent, and Forbeck was counting on its swiftness to beat any defence the cabal would have.
The bolt shot through the air, sizzling as it flew, leaving a smoky trail. Curving slightly as it neared its target, the spell suddenly sputtered and fizzled out. The wave of power that had annihilated the bolt hit Forbeck with a mighty crack that arched his back and dropped him to the floor.
As he struggled to open his eyes, the intense pain blocking all coherent thought, another wave rolled over him, then another, each one coming much quicker than the last, and each building to greater magnitude. Insensible, Forbeck rolled on the ground, only pure instinct driving him to move, to seek refuge.
The cabal resumed their slow, deliberate march towards the Shadowmage. As they built up the last wave of energy, the figures collectively sighed as the power flooded out of their bodies. The last wave smothered Forbeck, holding him in a rigid, pain-filled grip.
Raw arcane energy reduced Forbeck to dust.
As the cabal departed, the sea wind blew down the street, scattering the ashes. Within seconds, only his cane, sundered in two, remained.
CHAPTER TEN
WHILE GRENNAR CUT a beautiful, even faintly aristocratic figure in her long gown, Lucius appeared more as a rogue. He tried hard to ignore the glances he received as the two of them wound their way through the streets of Turnitia.
For her part, Grennar seemed not to notice, and held her head up high as if the streets belonged to her. Lucius had found her lurking near the Square of True Believers, watching the comings and goings of Vos officials around the Cathedral. During their quiet conversation, Grennar had made it clear that while her guildmaster had given up on the beggars, she most certainly had not, and she seemed pleased when Lucius had told her that efforts to rebuild the thieves’ guild had begun.
Grennar was only too glad to take him to meet Sebastian, and Lucius was surprised to find himself being led up the hill to the eastern side of the city.
“What, you thought Sebastian made his home in some random alley, or in the sewers?” Grennar had asked. “He is probably richer than any thief.”
Lucius doubted that, but didn’t argue the issue. Instead, he let the beggar girl lead him to a small but very well-appointed house built within a stone’s throw of the city’s eastern gate.
As they entered the modest grounds of the estate, Grennar produced a large iron key and opened the front door, revealing a short hall and stairs. She indicated a door set to one side of the stairs, then left, closing the door behind her. Clearly, she had received instructions not to attend this meeting.
Coughing to announce his presence, Lucius entered the door.
A fireplace blazed in the centre of one wall, though the weather was by no means chill. Beside it was a single leather wingbacked chair, placed next to a small table on which Lucius could see an open bottle and glass filled with a deep red wine. Opposite the fireplace, within a wide bay window, was Sebastian, stood over a desk and staring intently at an open book. He wore a tight fitting but exquisitely tailored tunic, and flicked over a page of his book as Lucius entered.
Books lined shelves along each wall and were piled on every available surface. Tables sagged under the weight of many tomes, and further piles on the floor reached Lucius’ waist. There must have been several thousand in this place, ranging from small handbooks to massive volumes that would cover Sebastian’s desk when opened.
“Do you like my library, Lucius?” Sebastian asked, without looking up.
“It’s impressive.”
“It’s my passion,” Sebastian said, turning to face Lucius. “The Harmonies of Artitucus, the seventeen surviving plays of Damans, the Kerberos observations of Brach, and Loom’s Histories of the Vos-Speaking Peoples are all here. Treatises, atlases, encyclopaedias, and satires. I have even started collecting the comedies of Pontaine Treen.
“Finally I have the time to commit to my collection. It really is fascinating. For years, all this knowledge has been stored, uselessly, on these shelves. Now I can begin to enjoy them. I have been planning a trip across Pontaine, and maybe to Allantia, to track down some of the volumes I am missing.”
“And what about your beggars?” Lucius asked.
Sebastian shook his head. “They are not mine any more.”
“We are reviving the thieves’ guild. We would like the beggars to be beside us. For mutual benefit, as always.”
“You are on a fool’s mission. Vos is too po
werful, their stranglehold on the city too firm. One day, maybe, the guilds will rise again. But not in my lifetime. I have been guildmaster of the beggars for many years, Lucius. I have earned my retirement.”
“We have adapted! Our guilds cannot function as they once did, true, but there are other ways of doing business. Start small again, like us. There may well be new opportunities that did not exist before. Vos will have its loopholes and blind spots – that is where thieves and beggars thrive. With or without you, the thieves will rise again. But it will be easier if the beggars are with us, gathering information in ways no one else can.”
“You are not listening to me. There are no beggars any more. Even the old hands are drifting away.”
“So bring them back to the fold. I know why you are here, reading your books, Sebastian. You are trying to recapture that thrill of discovering something new. When the beggars were reporting to you from across the entire city, you learned new things every day. Some of the information you used, the rest you sold. Remember that feeling, when you learned which Citadel guard could be bribed or blackmailed? And remember how much you could charge me for that little scrap of information? Or which noble’s wife was seeing what merchant, or who had bought a new piece of land and what they wanted to use it for?”
Sebastian smiled. “We learned quite a few things about your thieves too.
“But it is all academic. No beggars, no guild, no information. Whether it was the Preacher Divine himself, or one of his administrative lackeys, whoever targeted my guild did it very neatly. The damage has already been done.”
“Nothing is irreversible,” Lucius said.
“Maybe you are right but, as I said, even my old hands are gone, those I thought might never leave. It really is just Grennar left, and she does not look much like a beggar these days.” Sebastian smiled again. “If only that girl were a little older, I would suggest you speak to her about a new guild.”
Silence fell over the two men for a few moments.
“I don’t know how you would go about it,” Sebastian said eventually, “and I would bear no costs, now or later, but... If the thieves were to somehow disrupt the alms-giving, a lot of people would start to go poor and hungry. Under those circumstances, I cannot see how I could do anything but reform my guild.”
Lucius frowned. “Stop the alms-giving?”
“Either in the city, or hit Vos’ silver train as it travels south to Turnitia. That would also disrupt much of what Vos does here, which I guess is a goal for you anyway. Think of what you could do with all those unpaid soldiers...”
The idea of hitting the Empire’s silver train was a daunting one, for its defences were near legendary. But that was not Lucius’ immediate concern.
“You actually want me to force people into poverty?” he asked.
Sebastian shook his head. “I knew you would have trouble with that. You know, Lucius, for a thief, you have a strange moral code.”
“It is one thing to rob a merchant of a few trinkets or take silver for keeping the peace in a busy street.”
“Oh, you have done more than that. What about the hardworking labourer whose pocket you pick in the market? I know you have done that yourself in the past. What about the shop that is forced to close its doors because of your extortion rackets? And did you ever stop to think about the girls your people were using in the prostitution rings? Every crime has a victim, Lucius.”
Lucius opened his mouth and closed it again, having no real answer for the beggar.
“It is easy to justify, Lucius,” Sebastian said. “I’ve done it myself. Think of it this way. You are not forcing people into poverty – they are already there. They are merely accepting the charity, for want of a better word, of the Empire. You know as well as I do that comes with a heavy price. This is why you are fighting Vos, correct?”
Lucius nodded and Sebastian continued. “Think of those prostitutes. The whole justification for bringing them into your guild, aside from profit of course, was that they would be safer. They would have protection, set rates, apothecarial support, and all the rest. In short, they would be better off.
“The same applies to my beggars. They may have to work for their silver, but they are better off working than being completely reliant upon the Empire and its fickle wishes. Young or old, fit or crippled, there is a place for every man, woman and child among the beggars. We support them and train them, and no one ever goes hungry. We do not tie them into the guild, and they are free to leave at any time, taking their earnings with them to start a new life – if that is what they want. Can you say the same of Vos?”
“No,” Lucius said. “Once Vos decides what to do with them, their fates are sealed.”
“Probably in some back-breaking engineering work deep in the Empire.”
That caught Lucius’ attention. “You know that for a fact?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I heard things in the last days of my guild. But suppose, for a moment, that it is not true, that Vos has only good intentions and, once you and I are cleared out of the city, Vos will leave. What happens then?”
“Well, the guilds will come back. Probably overnight.”
“Under whose guidance? You might still be here, Lucius, but I’ll be as far from Vos as I can get. The beggars might then be led by a real villain, like the guildmaster in Andon, who uses his people as thugs and whores.”
“Alright, you have made your point.”
“Will you do it?”
Lucius saw the sense of what Sebastian was telling him, but it was a big leap from making a few robberies to intentionally depriving the weakest and poorest people in the city of food. That was even before he could start thinking about how it might actually be accomplished.
“Let me talk it over with the others. We might find a better way.”
“Well, think quickly, Lucius,” Sebastian said. “There is not much time.”
AUTSIDE, GRENNAR LOOKED at him questioningly. Lucius shrugged and walked past, soon becoming wrapped in his own thoughts. He already knew that he would try to end the alms-giving. He just had to justify the action to himself.
He spent some time meandering the streets of the wealthier end of Turnitia, letting recent events turn over in his mind, thinking about how to resurrect the guilds. Choosing turns at the junctions of the cobbled streets at random, Lucius suddenly stopped, an odd sense of familiarity creeping over him. It took him a few seconds to understand why the area he was in, with its large houses nestled in their wide gardens, had given him pause.
The house before him was notable for being a new construction; while most buildings on this street were at least a century old, this one was younger than he was. Whereas others were built mainly of hewn stone, this used brick throughout its construction, and the materials were not yet weathered. An unfamiliar red carriage was parked in front of the house’s main entrance.
Lucius began to pick out features he did recognise: the apple tree on the left, whose branches he had learned years ago; the wooden bridge just beyond the front gates that led over an elongated pond, in which he had sought to catch the fish that lurked in its depths.
It was the place he had been born, and raised for much of his childhood. Standing there, he recalled the events of the night that had altered the course of his life. The rioting mob that had swept over the garden, the deaths of his father, mother and sister, the burning of the house. All because his father had belonged to the Brotherhood of the Divine Path, and not the Final Faith.
One way or another, the Vos Empire had a lot to answer for.
Lucius breathed a silent prayer to the souls of his family, more out of respect to their memory than any belief they would actually hear him. No, he would not make revenge his motive. But that did not mean he was not going to do everything in his power to make Vos’ position in his home city as difficult as possible. His own affairs would likely take care of any vengeance his family required in their graves.
Lucius felt a flicker at the edge of his sense
s, a silent ripple in the fabric of the world about him, and a wall of air slammed into his side, blasting him off his feet.
Hitting the ground hard, he gasped for breath while looking to see what had attacked him. He fixed upon the figure stalking down the street, its long hair tied up behind its head, dark eyes almost black under a frown.
As Adrianna stooped to grab him by the collar and yanked him to his feet, Lucius gaped.
“Aidy, what do you think you’re doing? Anyone could see us here.”
She threw him against the wall of his old home. The impact knocked the wind out of him again, and he could sense the magic fuelling Adrianna’s strength. Looking up at her, he saw she was maddened with rage, magic giving her fury form. He was in trouble.
She seized his collar and drove his head back against the wall.
“Did you feel it?” she hissed at him.
“What, Aidy?” he gasped, the pressure at his throat making breathing difficult. “Feel what?”
“Of course you didn’t. You have always been so far removed from us.”
Her knee drove into his stomach as she released him. Wheezing, he fell, and lay still as Adrianna ranted.
“He’s dead, Lucius!” she screamed, her voice hoarse. “Dead! While you were off playing thief, they killed him.”
Knowing he might regret it, Lucius climbed to his feet and, leaning on the wall for support, tried to face down her fury.
“Forbeck,” he said.
“They tracked him down, like he was no more than vermin. I warned him and I warned you...”
As she rounded on him, Lucius could feel the magic surge inside Adrianna, and he braced himself. Then she seemed to droop, her shoulders sagging, and the magic faded. He reached out to touch her, but her head snapped up to face him and he saw that while her magic had been tempered, her anger was still unchecked. The glare she gave him was full of loathing, and he suppressed a shudder.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) Page 38