“So the Guardian Starlight is, what, no longer needed?”
“Of course it is! It is another tug on that web, Tellmore, and a bloody big one too.”
“How so?”
“It becomes like a banner. An outward sign that the path we are on is irresistible destiny. We will persuade any dissenters that our way is the only way for Pontaine. Even if the artefact does not work, even if we cannot figure out how to use it, it still has great value. We have a powerful elven artefact in our possession! Few are going to argue against that.”
“And no doubt the Guardian Starlight will be of use in the later stages of the war you are planning, or perhaps when the war is done and you need its magic to rule.”
“Just so.”
“It just seems you are moving too far, too soon and too quickly, my Baron. Things threaten to spin out of control.”
“For heaven’s sake, Tellmore,” the baron said. “Please remind me, are you growing into an old man or an old woman?”
Lowering his head, Tellmore did not answer. The baron looked at him for a while, then sighed.
“I know your concerns, and I have taken note. However, a bit of chaos, a bit of disruption to the old order is exactly what is needed right now.
“It is our time at last, Tellmore. Do try to find it within yourself to enjoy it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUCIUS ARRIVED BACK in the city in late afternoon, and Turnitia bustled as it always did at this time, with merchants and craftsmen pursuing their trades, even as beggars and thieves chased theirs. Resolved to hand over the Guardian Starlight to the baron as agreed, he nonetheless wanted to see what had been happening in the city since his departure. The baron had waited this long for the artefact, a few hours more would not hurt him.
Presuming his guildhouse would be watched by the baron’s men, he stuck to the alleyways of the city, only venturing out when he could hide in a large crowd, outside a general store that had just received a new shipment of goods from the far side of Pontaine, or surrounding a troupe of street performers. It was on the outskirts of one of these crowds he found what he was looking for.
An aged woman, crippled by long years on the streets, tightened her ragged beige shawl as he approached. Looking up at him with an age-creased face, she revealed large gaps in her teeth as she smiled and raised a ceramic bowl.
“Copper for an old lady, good sir?”
“You know who I am?” he asked.
“A generous soul is what I am hoping, good sir.”
“I need to speak to Grennar, immediately.”
“Oh, I am not sure I know any Grennar, not round these parts,” the woman said, and pointedly slid her bowl along the ground towards him.
Lucius fished in his belt pouch and threw two coins into the bowl.
“So, where can I find her?”
“Find who, dearee?” the woman said, cupping a hand to an ear. “You’ll have to forgive me, quite deaf you know.”
Lucius sighed in exasperation, and reached into his pouch to deposit another two coins into her bowl.
“Ah, you mean young Grennar. Ring Street, near the second market. Look for a path next to the cobblers. You’ll find her there.”
Nodding his gratitude, Lucius stood and made his way to Ring Street, using the crowds and alleyways to veil his journey.
Nearing Ring Street, he sighted the cobblers the beggar woman had described, and headed down a narrow alley next to it. There, among a dozen discarded wooden crates stacked against the wall of the cobblers’ place, he found Grennar.
Wearing a thin smock that had seen better days, her exposed skin was covered in muck and filth. Surrounding her were more beggars, of all ages, equally filthy.
“We need to talk,” Grennar said, pre-empting Lucius. “Leave us, all of you.” And with that, her street comrades scattered. “You have been away a little longer than I expected,” she said, turning to Lucius.
“Complications.”
“Isn’t that always the way?” She swept dirt off an upturned crate next to her and gestured for Lucius to sit. “If such things were easy, of course, everyone would be doing them.”
“So I keep telling myself.”
“Were you successful?”
Lucius drew back his cloak so that Grennar could see the Guardian Starlight. She gave a low whistle.
“Looks pretty. I hope it is worth the trouble it will bring you.”
“What have you heard?”
“I am not certain the baron has been entirely straight with you.”
“You mean he intends to renege on our deal?”
“Oh, I am sure he will fulfil whatever concessions you asked of him.”
“Then what?”
“Our glorious baron has been receiving visitors of high rank for quite some time now. At first, we thought it had little to do with us, presuming it was merely an extension of Pontaine politics.
“But when you consider the large orders that have been placed and paid for with the city’s weapons and armoursmiths, the tanners and bowyers, it becomes clear what is happening. More men-at-arms are arriving from his estate in Pontaine – large numbers of them. We estimate his military force here in Turnitia has doubled and is still growing.”
“An army? You think this is leading to a new war with Vos?”
Grennar nodded. “And your artefact there is a central part of their plan.”
“Great, so I deliver my commission, and it sets off a war between Pontaine and Vos!”
“I don’t believe it is quite as easy as that. Vos and Pontaine have been spoiling for war ever since the day the last one ended.”
“It will still aid their course, though.”
“Possession of an artefact of great and ancient magical power likely tipped the baron towards this course of action, yes.”
For a long moment, Lucius just sat on the battered crate within the dirty alley. Finally he stood and turned to face her.
“Grennar... I must go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I... don’t know.”
“Lucius... Where is Adrianna?”
“I left her in the Territories.”
“You mean you ran from her?”
“Yes. This thing, so close to her,” he said, touching his belt, “it was driving her mad. She was becoming dangerous again.”
“Like before?”
“Just like before.”
“By the heavens, Lucius. She will tear this city apart trying to find you.”
“I can feel her approaching, even now.
“For what it is worth, I am sorry, Grennar. Thank you, though. Thank you for everything you have done for me.”
With that, he turned and walked away, not even seeing the beggars at the end of the alley as he pushed past them. He thought furiously as he walked through the back streets of the city.
Above all else, he wanted things to be simple again. Why did everything these days have to get complicated?
He cursed. He was feeling sorry for himself, and that was not going to help anyone. Even if it did feel like the weight of the whole city was now on his shoulders. He had a nasty thought that the decision he was about to make had been decided before he had even returned to the city.
His own professional pride aside, it felt like Pontaine was about to open a door it would find very hard to close again. The last war had almost broken both nations, and it had not just been the people of the Anclas Territories that had paid the price. Turnitia had always been pivotal between Vos and Pontaine. The latter was now ascendant, though the city had prospered under its fairer rule. But what would be the cost when war arrived? Any response from Vos could easily devastate the city and break everything that had been achieved in the past few months. That included the work he had done, building the thieves’ guild into something he was surprised to find he was quite proud of.
That was odd. He had never really wanted the power or responsibility of guildmastery, and he had c
ertainly not actively sought it. As Lucius looked back at his time in Turnitia, it seemed remarkable that the choices he had made just seemed to follow a natural conclusion to him being a master of thieves.
What was even stranger was that he might enjoy the position. For all its irritations, the guild posed him not only suitable challenges but also great compensations. Though he rarely gave the matter much thought, he had become a very wealthy man.
Then there was Adrianna. Grennar had been right when she said the Shadowmage would tear the city apart to find him and the Guardian Starlight.
He did briefly consider handing the Guardian Starlight over to the baron as he had planned, and letting him fight Adrianna for it. It was almost a very neat ploy, getting both sides to destroy one another. The end result would be a shattered Pontaine force that had its energy spent before it could even consider starting another war, and a Shadowmage that might be... what? Killed?
As much as he hated the thought of Adrianna dead, if it were a choice between that and everyone else in the city, then what kind of choice was it anyway?
However, this was all foolish thinking. Even if Adrianna attacked the baron, one of them would survive, and they would have the Guardian Starlight in their possession. At that point, either the war would start or Adrianna, if she were the survivor, would begin whatever reign of terror she was planning.
And so it came back to this. The decision that had already been made, and Lucius felt his heart grow heavy as he finally accepted what had to be done.
Even as he had entered Turnitia, Lucius had felt somewhere in the back of his mind that it was for the last time. With Pontaine on one side and Adrianna on the other, he had no choice but to keep on running. It was likely they would catch up with him, in some other city or in the wilderness, catch him and kill him to take the Guardian Starlight. Maybe, though, he would discover how to wield the artefact, unlock its secrets and make it work for him. Perhaps it would allow him to hide safely away from Adrianna and anyone in Pontaine with thoughts of war.
When he had first returned to Turnitia, long before he became guildmaster of thieves, Adrianna had accused him of always running from his problems. Now, he was running again. This time, however, he was sure it was the right thing to do.
There was just one thing to attend to before he left.
Veering his path towards the heavier crowds in the commercial areas of the city, Lucius studied the people intently. It did not take him long to find what he was looking for.
Three children of perhaps ten or eleven years old were working a crowd that had been stirred together by the presence of a street pedlar offering bottles of miracle cures that she guaranteed would heal any ailment. The woman bravely endured the jeers and heckles of disbelief, and continued her patter, slowly bringing some of those listening to her way of thinking. She was good, Lucius could tell, but it was the children he was after.
They were in the classic three-pronged position he had learned when he first joined the guild, winding their way from different directions among the crowd. The tallest boy among them was the distraction, while a freckled lad would grab a purse. Then, a red-haired boy hanging at the entrance of a side street was the runner, who would spirit away their ill-gotten gains. That was the one he could use now.
The youth gave him a disparaging look that said “go away” as Lucius approached, until recognition dawned.
“Guildmaster,” the boy said, attempting something of a bow crossed with a curtsey.
“Go back to the guildhouse, boy, and find Wendric. You understand?”
Though confused at the sudden appearance of his boss, the boy nodded.
“Tell him to meet me at the eastern gate with all speed. Tell him ‘gold over blood’, use those exact words, clear?”
“Gold over blood.” The boy nodded as he repeated the words.
“Go now,” Lucius urged. “Run!”
The boy disappeared into the side street with an impressive turn of speed.
Waiting among the wealthier townhouses that lined the thoroughfare leading to the eastern gate of the city, Lucius saw Wendric approach and intercepted him before he walked into line of sight with the men-at-arms manning the gatehouse. He did not expect them to give him any trouble in this part of the city, but caution was over-riding everything now.
“Gold over blood?” Wendric asked. He looked rattled that Lucius had used the pre-arranged phrase. “What the hell is going on, Lucius?”
“I can’t explain fully – and believe me that is for your own safety as much as mine – but you have to listen carefully and do what I tell you.”
“You are in trouble.”
Lucius nodded. “The worst possible kind.”
“Alright, we can work through this. What do you need from me?”
“You are not going to like it. I want you to take over the running of the guild.”
Wendric shrugged. “That is never a problem, you know that. Believe it or not, the guildhouse is still standing since your last departure.”
“No. I mean I want you to take over the guild. Permanently.”
“That is not funny, Lucius.”
“I am really not joking, Wendric. I know you are content with the position of lieutenant, and I can sympathise with that. I never really wanted to be guildmaster either, but there is no one else I can trust to look after the thieves. It has to be you.”
“God’s teeth, Lucius, this is a hell of a thing to just land on me.”
“For that, I apologise, but I have no other choice. I’m leaving the city, and I don’t ever expect to come back.”
“Hold on there. Just what kind of trouble are you in?”
“I told you, the worst kind.” Lucius sighed. “I can’t tell you what is going on, only that it has nothing to do with guild activities and any trouble it brings you will be minor and easily handled. The guild is not the target. It will just be me.”
“Can you tell me where you are going?”
“Absolutely not. As I said, I do not expect to be able to return here. Ever. This will be the last time you see me, Wendric.”
“Well... at least let me help you in some way. You have provisions? Travelling gear?”
“I have everything I need. I’ll steal a horse from the gatehouse stables. I really need nothing more – except the knowledge that my thieves will be looked after.”
“I’ll keep them safe, Lucius. You’ve trained them well, the guild almost runs itself these days.”
They stared at one another for a moment, both having run out of words. It was Wendric that broke the silence.
“You really cannot tell me anything?”
“Not about what is happening right now. I can tell you that war is coming between Vos and Pontaine, and that it will probably be bad for the city. But Grennar can fill you in on that.”
Wendric paled at that news, and looked as though he was going to be sick.
“I am very sorry to see you go, Lucius,” Wendric said when he found his voice. “We’ve had... good times since you were in charge.”
“You know what they say – all good things come to an end.”
“Never thought I would see the day. You look after yourself, Lucius, and try to get out of this hole you are in. If you ever need anything, no matter how difficult, you be sure to send us a message. You promise me now.”
Lucius smiled. “Thank you, Wendric, I promise. But I can also tell you, this really is the last time we will speak.”
He looked up and down the path, then pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.
“Take care of my thieves, Wendric. That is all I ask.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GALLOPING ALONG AT speed across the open grassland, Lucius might have enjoyed himself if he were not fleeing his home city. The horse, a fine pure-bred he had relieved from a wealthy merchant near the eastern gatehouse, seemed to be escaping its own kind of hell, such was its vigour.
Together, they had left Turnitia at some pace and soon the wa
lls, tall townhouses and even the mighty towers of the Citadel had disappeared behind the horizon. They encountered a steady stream of travellers: a merchant train here, a Pontaine knightly delegation there, and farmers, craftsmen and their families, streaming in from the farms and hamlets that surrounded Turnitia, all hoping to seek greater fortune.
At an opportune time, Lucius pulled on the reins and they swung south, off the road that led to Andon, riding cross-country. As evening started to descend, the small settlements and farms grew less frequent, and he started to feel a little more comfortable with each mile he put between him and real civilisation.
Though the horse was strong and well looked after, Lucius fuelled it with a minor enchantment.
He had not given a great deal of thought to where he would flee before he had crossed through the gates of the city, his mind more focussed on evading Adrianna and the baron, and ensuring his guild would be in safe hands. As it happened, he discovered he had little choice in the matter anyway.
Northwards was out. That would be heading straight into the clutches of Adrianna, which meant instant death after what she would regard as his deepest betrayal of her. If he avoided her, there was always the possibility the Preacher Divine still lived and, if he had perished in the Territories, then his successor would likely have an interest in the Guardian Starlight. The thought of that artefact in the hands of Vos and the Anointed Lord made Lucius shiver.
Eastwards would be just as foolish, for that meant Pontaine.
He had not even considered west and the ocean. Lucius was no sailor and he firmly believed the extent of man’s voyages across open bodies of water should be restricted to calm lakes, at least as far as he was concerned. He had taken a short voyage on the open ocean just once, an aborted attempt to reach the Sarcre Islands, something both he and the inexperienced captain quickly regretted.
The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) Page 68