Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Kodyn had discovered that only one avenue, Death Row, led to the uppermost tiers. With the solid walls, thick gates, and ever-present patrols of Indomitables standing guard, it would be nearly impossible to get back to the Dhukari tier unseen. He’d have to enjoy the anonymity of the crowded Artisan’s Tier while he could.

  The Indomitables holding the gate that exited the Defender’s Tier barely paid him any attention. They focused more about who entered rather than those who left. Kodyn was perfectly happy with that. The less people noticed him, the better.

  The road descending from the Defender’s Tier was mostly empty until it reached the intersection with Artificer’s Courseway, the avenue that ran east to west along the Artisan’s Tier. The Courseway, however, was near clogged with people, wagons, carts, and draft animals.

  Kodyn scanned the crowd warily. He hadn’t caught anyone following him, but he wouldn’t abandon the cautious habits he’d developed over nearly a decade in the Night Guild. His eyes took in every detail, which his brain quickly categorized as mundane, interesting, or threatening. The mundane was ignored, but he paid attention to everything else.

  The graffiti on a nearby wall fell into the “interesting” category. “Child of Spirits” had been painted in crude, crimson letters atop the fresh whitewash of a bakery. Kodyn had seen “Child of Gold” painted on the lower tier, and the near-reverence of the young Earaqi men had intrigued him. To see it here on the Artisan’s Tier added to his interest.

  But he had more important things to focus on than curious street art. As soon as he was out of sight of the Indomitables guarding the Defender’s Tier gate, he slipped into the shadows of the nearest side street. His fingers loosened the knots holding his ornate headband in place, and he replaced it with the green band worn by all non-Shalandrans.

  On the uppermost tiers, he’d need Suroth’s headband to get around. Down here, the gold-and-green with its bright sigil-bearing silver disc would just draw more attention. He’d blend into the crowd far more easily as just one more foreigner roaming through the markets and shops of the Artisan’s Tier.

  He missed his dull-colored Hawk’s clothing, but the shendyt and tunic he wore beneath his simple cloak made him look as ordinary as he could manage in a city of dark-skinned Shalandrans. He didn’t dare wear the hood of his ornate stole pulled forward—that would only draw more attention—but he tugged his long, dark hair free of its tail and let it hang around his face. That, at least, would obscure his features so he wouldn’t be recognized.

  He shot a longing glance up toward the rooftops of the Artisan’s Tier buildings. If only this was Praamis, I could run around the Hawk’s Highway without worrying about being spotted by the Indomitables. The maze of rope walkways, wooden bridges, and metal beams that crisscrossed the Praamian rooftops made it easier for the Night Guild to travel around the city undetected.

  Here, however, the buildings with their smooth sandstone walls would prove more difficult to scale, and few things would draw unwanted attention faster than a young foreigner crashing through a thatched roof.

  With a sigh, he stepped out into the lane. I guess we’re doing this the Fox way.

  Like every other apprentice in House Hawk, he’d spent the better part of a year running with the apprentices of House Fox, the street-level counterparts to House Hawk’s third-story thieves. He’d never quite mastered the art of picking pockets to the satisfaction of the older Foxes, but he’d lifted enough to earn his way. But he had excelled at moving around the city without drawing attention. Even years later, the old skills came back to him easily.

  Sliding through a busy street and thick crowds unseen was an art form. It started with innocuous-looking clothing, which meant he’d had to forsake his Praamian clothing in exchange for more traditional Shalandran dress. Literally, it felt like a dress. He could move well enough, but he missed the pockets and pouches he’d had in his vests and cloak.

  He moved in a slight hunch, head tilted down, yet his eyes never stopped moving as they scanned the streets. His movements flowed with the crowds that surged and pushed around him, and he kept close to larger packs of people—servants from Dhukari households, pale-skinned foreigners, even heavily-laden wagons. As long as he didn’t move too fast or jostle anyone too hard, he could almost blend into the throng of the two marketplaces.

  The trinkets of Industry Square and the produce of Commerce Square held little interest to him, but he used the stalls and shops for cover. He doubled back on his trail twice just to be certain no one followed him before finally pushing through Commerce Square and heading west toward his true destination.

  He drew in a deep breath as he caught sight of The Gilded Parlour, one of five brothels permitted in Shalandra—one for each tier. It catered primarily to the Zadii and Intaji that lived on this tier, though some Earaqi managed to scrape together enough coin for a night of pleasure with the golden-painted women with their ornate white and brown headbands.

  The women of The Gilded Parlour wore the tight-fitting kalasiris dresses common to Shalandra, but with the upper hems stopping well below their breasts. Though some used the leather straps for modesty, most used the low-cut design of the dresses to draw attention to the wares they proudly displayed for all passersby. The golden paint that covered every inch of their skin made them seem to glow in the afternoon sunlight like the rest of the city.

  But Kodyn hadn’t come for the women. He’d come to see the Black Widow.

  The interior of The Gilded Parlour was spacious, well-furnished with plush couches and love seats. Everything was gold, from the metal-plated chandelier to the gold thread woven into the bright yellow fabric to the paintings that hung on the wall. It was bright enough to be garish, with the only spot of real color coming from the wooden bar along the north and western edges of the room. Three rough-looking men stood behind the bar serving drinks, watching the men and women scattered around the brothel with keen eyes and hands hovering close to the cudgels on their belts.

  Kodyn strode up to the nearest, a slope-shouldered brute with greying hair and dark eyes. He held up two fingers. “Two Spider Legs.”

  The bartender gave no sign of recognition or interest, simply reached behind the bar and pulled out a glass bottle filled with black liquor. He poured the liquor into two glasses barely larger than a thimble and slid them across the bar to Kodyn. With a nod, Kodyn knocked back the first.

  The liquor had a distinctly spicy edge of cinnamon, cloves, and ginger, but just enough sweetness to be enjoyable. Its potency, however, rivaled the strongest Voramian agor, and Kodyn struggled not to cough as the burning alcohol slid a fiery trail down his throat and into his stomach. As the heat settled, he was left with a pleasant spicy-sweet taste in his mouth.

  He made no move to empty the second drink. Instead, he plunked a pair of Praamian imperials on the bar, picked up the tiny glass, and strode toward the shadows at the northern edge of the chamber. A small, round booth sized for two people stood empty, and Kodyn slipped into the gold fabric-covered seat.

  Kodyn settled back into the couch to wait. Time passed slowly, the liquor burning its way into Kodyn’s gut. He’d inherited his mother’s taste for sweet wines—Voramian Snowblossom or Nyslian reds—though he’d shared some Praamian rum with Ria at her insistence. But this liquor was far stronger than anything he’d had before.

  Maybe that’s why the Black Widow expects her guests to drink it. They’ll be too soused to try anything stupid.

  He pretended to relax in his chair, but every muscle in his body was tense as he kept a wary eye on the room. No one paid him much interest—not even the bartenders approached to offer another drink—and he could detect no sign of being followed. If someone was watching him, they were good enough he couldn’t spot them.

  Half an hour later, the bartender slid out from around the gold-painted wooden bar and strode toward Kodyn. He picked up the tiny glass, emptied it, and gestured for Kodyn to follow.

  “This way,” he muttered, and
disappeared through a small, curtain-covered doorway on the northeastern corner of the room.

  Kodyn followed and found himself in a narrow corridor that ran for a few paces, with a single doorway at the end. However, halfway down the hall, the bartender slid aside a panel to reveal a staircase. At the top of the stairs, there was another door, this one built of heavy iron-banded wood, with a steel doorknob to match.

  The man produced a key—Kodyn saw it matched an eight-pin tumbler lock—and used it to open the door. He motioned for Kodyn to enter.

  Kodyn strode into the room. It was pitch black and, as far as he could see, utterly empty.

  “You have five minutes,” the bartender said and swung the door closed, plunging Kodyn into darkness.

  Kodyn had spent nearly a decade moving around the darkened passages of the Night Guild, the starlit rooftops of the Hawk’s Highway, and the pitch black sewer tunnels beneath Praamis, but he’d never felt as nervous as he did now.

  He caught a slight hint of shuffling slippers, the creak of wood—a secret passage?—and a moment later, a voice drifted from the darkness of the room. “Welcome to Shalandra, Praamian.”

  It was a woman, of that Kodyn was certain, but her voice had an ageless quality about it. He couldn’t tell if she was his age or old enough to be his grandmother. Suddenly, a thread of light streamed through a tiny crack in the heavy shutters barring a window. He caught a glimpse of a slim hand and the outline of her silhouette in the dim illumination. She was neither tall nor short, heavy nor emaciated. With her face concealed by shadow, she looked like a thousand other Shalandran women.

  Which is probably the point, Kodyn thought. The less she stands out, the easier it is to protect her true identity.

  The ritual below—ordering the spider-themed drink, waiting to be summoned by the bartender—had likely given the Black Widow’s people time to study him.

  “What brings you to my city?” she asked.

  Kodyn had expected the question—his mother had prepared him for his meeting with the Black Widow, the closest thing to her counterpart in Shalandra. Though she didn’t organize crime to the same extent the Night Guild did in Praamis, she had her finger on the pulse of everything that went on in her city. One part spymaster, one part information broker, and four parts deadly when crossed.

  Ilanna had emphasized the importance of making contact with the Black Widow immediately upon his arrival in Shalandra. “If she finds out who you are,” his mother had said, “you’re likely to end up with a dagger in your back unless you have her permission. Better to bring a peace offering than try to talk your way out of a dangerous situation.”

  Kodyn had spent many hours on his long journey from Praamis mulling over his mother’s instructions and trying to decide just how much to tell the Black Widow. Finally, he’d settled on as much truth as she needed to know.

  “I’ve come to steal the Crown of the Pharus,” he said without hesitation.

  “Have you now?” The Black Widow chuckled, almost a girlish giggle. “And here I thought the Night Guild was far more sensible than that.”

  “It’s my Undertaking.” Kodyn reasoned that if she’d already marked him as belonging to the Night Guild, she would know enough about their practices to recognize his purpose for being here. “But I don’t intend to take it out of Shalandra.”

  “Of course not.” The Black Widow gave a dismissive wave of her slim hand. “You wouldn’t get an hour out of the city before every Keeper’s Blade descended upon you. You simply intend to steal it to prove you can, but you have no desire to actually make off with it, is that not so?”

  “Yes.” Kodyn was impressed. She knows a lot more about the Night Guild than I expected.

  “And I presume that you intend to use the goodwill earned by returning Lady Briana to convince her father to aid you in this Undertaking?”

  “Yes.” Again, Kodyn had to marvel. She really does know as much as Mother warned me. He’d clearly made the right choice by telling her the truth.

  He reached into a pouch and drew out a small pyramid-shaped gemstone. “I offer this as a token of the Night Guild’s appreciation for your permission to operate in your city.”

  The woman reached out a slim hand—the sliver of light revealed a thin iron bracelet encircling her wrist—and took the gemstone. When she held it up to the light, the thin beam of white light from the window was refracted by the diamond and cast six separate beams onto the wall, each a different color of the rainbow.

  “A fine gift.” She sounded pleased. “Your offering is accepted. For as long as you and your Ghandian companion remain in Shalandra, you have my approval to undertake this quest to steal the Crown of the Pharus.”

  Kodyn forced himself not to stiffen in surprise. If the Black Widow had known he was escorting Briana, it made sense that she knew of Aisha as well.

  “Come to think of it, your mission puts you in a unique position.” The Black Widow’s tone grew musing. “One that could prove of mutual benefit.”

  Kodyn raised an eyebrow—an expression lost in the shadows of the room. “I’m listening.”

  “No one has ever succeeded in stealing the Crown of the Pharus, though not for lack of trying.” Amusement tinged her words. “Yet, perhaps, with the right preparation, you will succeed where others have failed. Tell me, does the Night Guild still roam the sewer tunnels beneath Praamis?”

  Again, Kodyn struggled to hide his surprise. She’s damned good if she knows that much.

  “Yes,” he said when he’d recovered.

  “The city of Shalandra, too, is said to be the handiwork of the ancient Serenii,” the Black Widow explained. “Much of the city’s design—from the structure of the tiers to the palace’s heating and ventilation network to the underground channels that supply us with fresh water—were designed by minds far superior to ours. And, like all Serenii cities, there are networks of underground tunnels and passages that run like a honeycomb throughout.”

  Kodyn frowned, pensive. “Let me guess, you want me to steal the map of this tunnel network.”

  “Steal?” The Black Widow laughed, a sound that held the sonorous timbre of mature humor. “No, dear boy, there is no need for that. The man responsible for mapping the tunnels owes me far more than just his life. All I have to do is ask.”

  Kodyn folded his arms. “If so, where do I come in?”

  “You will procure the map and use it to aid you in your quest,” the Black Widow said. “And, in return, you will answer me one simple question.”

  “That’s it?” Kodyn cocked his head. “Seems a bit of a one-sided bargain, doesn’t it?”

  “Even a young thief like you has to know that knowledge is power.” The Black Widow’s voice held a tone of wry humor. “The right secret whispered in the right ear can topple dynasties and build empires.”

  Kodyn nodded. He’d heard much the same from Journeyman Darreth. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who took Lady Briana?”

  The Black Widow’s question caught Kodyn off-guard. He’d expected something about the Night Guild, his mother, or any number of other things, yet now that he thought about it, he realized the question could carry far more weight than anything he could tell her about Praamis. The Black Widow could use the knowledge of who was behind the abduction in countless ways.

  “Have you heard of priests that call themselves the Gatherers?” Kodyn asked.

  A deep-throated curse sounded in the darkness, followed by a moment of silence.

  Finally, the Black Widow spoke. “The Gatherers took her? You are certain?”

  “I saw the priest, Necroset Kytos, die.”

  “Good.” The woman’s voice held a tone of grim satisfaction. “Thank you, young Praamian. With this, our bargain is struck.”

  The woman extended a hand into the thread of daylight. In her open palm lay a round silver coin—larger than Praamian gold imperials, but unlike Shalandran coinage, it didn’t bear the Pharus’ head on the face side. Instead, it bo
re the mark of an eight-legged spider. A black widow.

  “Show this to Ennolar, a Secret Keeper and member of the Venerated, and he will give you what you desire,” the Black Widow told him. “Once you have made use of the map, I would consider it a courtesy if you would deliver it to me.”

  “Of course.” Kodyn nodded.

  “But not here.” The Black Widow’s voice was stern, the commanding tone reminding Kodyn of his mother in her role as Guild Master. “You must never return to The Gilded Parlour. If you wish to speak to me, seek out the children wearing iron bracelets like mine.” She held her wrist up to the light. “We communicate through them.”

  Of course, children! No wonder Kodyn hadn’t spotted anyone following or watching him. He’d looked for men or women, but never a child. He kicked himself for a fool—he had spent most of his childhood as a thief, so he ought to know to look for the same here. I won’t make that mistake again.

  “I understand,” he said and turned to go. “Thank you.”

  “One last thing, young Praamian.” The Black Widow’s voice stopped Kodyn in his tracks. “You bring gifts, and now I offer one in return. A warning: the Night Guild may rule the shadows of Praamis, but here in Shalandra, only danger lurks in the darkness. The same Gatherers you faced in your city slither through Shalandra, filling it with their vile words and deeds. The Ybrazhe Syndicate rivals the cruelty and ruthlessness of the Bloody Hand your Guild Master spent years driving out of her city. The Necroseti and the Keeper’s Council conceal sharp daggers beneath pleasant words and false smiles. Trust no one but your companion.”

  Kodyn bowed. “I thank you for your warning.”

  “Heed my words,” the Black Widow said, “and perhaps, with the Keeper’s favor, you will survive long enough to tempt fate with your Undertaking.”

  With those ominous words ringing in his ears, Kodyn left the darkened room and the mysterious Shalandran spymaster.