Auguries of Dawn

by Peyton Reynolds

Knoxx Alvik sauntered into The Giggling Hyena, one of the city’s more disreputable taverns, and scanned the crowd. Spotting Flynn upon a stool at the bar, he made his way over and dropped himself down next to him.

  “You’re late,” Flynn said in greeting, glancing over. He pushed one of the huge ale-filled tankards that sat before him toward the mage.

  Knoxx took hold of the tankard’s handle and gulped generously. “It’s been a rather strange day,” he said.

  “Seventh-days always are. What happened to your face?”

  The mage gingerly raised a hand to his bruised cheek. “I got caught up in a street brawl last night.”

  “I heard talk of that. You weren’t the cause of it, were you?”

  “No,” Knoxx told him. “Although Tishan and I helped it along by setting a couple of buildings on fire.”

  Flynn’s black eyebrows rose.

  “The Justice officers were closing in and we needed a distraction. We didn’t want to risk getting thrown in jail.” Typically, anyone incarcerated for crimes other than murder or rape would be set free as soon as another paid their fines. However, due to the less-then-favorable opinion all Justice officers carried for those of their profession, it was not uncommon for missing paperwork—or even missing prisoners—to delay the release of anyone wearing a Thieves medallion. Knoxx had not wanted to risk this happening with the Tulan ball now only half a week away; both he and Tishan were instrumental to the scheme, and having them sitting in jail would have mucked up the entire plan.

  Flynn was now nodding, understanding their motivations for the rather drastic course of action. “Probably a good idea. I heard scores were arrested in that brawl. Anyhow, what have you got for me?”

  Irritated, Knoxx shook his head. “Not as much as I should. I can confirm two mages will be present at the ball, but I’ve been unable to identify them specifically.” He lowered his tone and continued. “I bribed one of the Tulan slaves to send word to me of this information, as well as to give number to how many officers we’ll have to deal with directly on the premises. But apparently there was something of a mix-up.”

  “Mix-up? How so?” Flynn frowned.

  Knoxx sighed and pulled a small, squashed scroll from his sleeve. “All I can figure is that the urchin confused his burdens. By the time I noticed, he had vanished. I spent all afternoon and half the night trying to track him down, but failed to find even a trace. This is an ill omen, Flynn.”

  Flynn scoffed and snatched the scroll from the other man’s hand. Unfurling it quickly, his eyes scanned the lines of neat, precise penmanship.

  The mage watched him. “While there are two women’s names upon that parchment, I presume you can understand my dilemma of tracking either down and asking for an exchange.” There was little doubt that the recipient of his message, one simply called “Madi”, had read it. Now, it was possible the Tulan slave who’d sent it had adhered to his warning and written it in a way that would have only Knoxx understanding its true meaning, but it was also just as possible that he had not. Approaching this Madi person and requesting an exchange of scrolls would therefore be a huge gamble.

  Flynn, however, did not appear so concerned, now tearing the scroll into pieces.

  “I don’t believe we have much to worry over, here,” he said. “Clearly this Madi person, whoever she is, has no love for Justice officers, unless she simply has a penchant for chucking garbage at random people. In any case, I doubt she’ll be looking to get near enough to any officers to report a mysterious message that may or may not implicate a crime. Do not worry yourself over this, Knoxx.”

  The mage was relieved, but the situation still left them in a lurch.

  “I have no way of contacting that slave again. It was the greatest of all luck that I chanced upon him in the first place.” This had happened three days ago. The man had been acting as pack-mule to the woman he stepped with, a woman Knoxx overheard to be one Lady Risane Tulan, who had presently been enjoying a day of shopping. Following them, he’d clearly seen the barely-concealed discontent—or perhaps downright hatred—the slave held for his owner. So, while Risane was preoccupied with looking at rings and bracelets, Knoxx had sidled up to the slave and made him a rather generous offer. The young man had practically jumped at the chance to betray the Tulans, and would probably have done it for nothing. At the time, Knoxx hadn’t been able to believe his good luck.

  “It’s this full-moons business happening upon a Seventh-Day,” he muttered now, into his ale.

  Flynn’s eyes rolled and he shook his head. “How fares Tishan?” he asked.

  Knoxx was glad he would at last be able to report something favorable. “She has proven as enchanting and beguiling as ever, at least so far as Myron Tulan is concerned. Rumor has it he’s already shopping for an engagement ring.”

  “Then it should not be difficult for her to gain access to the Tulan ranch prior to the ball. Instruct her that she needs to get onto that property and find the slave, sometime within the next couple of days. He can then tell her firsthand whatever information was in your message.”

  Knoxx began nodding. “Or I can slip onto the ranch and seek out the slave myself.” While invisible, he meant, but did not need to say.

  “No,” Flynn returned without pause. “You would have to reappear to speak to the slave, or otherwise risk scaring him silly, and we can’t have you seen. Tishan will have a valid reason for being there, and if she happens to be seen speaking to the man, she’s quick enough on her feet to make up some reasonable excuse.”

  “Very well.” While generally preferring to clean up his own messes, this wouldn’t be the first time Tishan had pulled his ass out of the fire, nor was it likely to be the last. Knoxx wasn’t looking forward to hearing all the jibes she was sure to be sending his way over this, no matter how good-natured.

  “When do you next see her?” Flynn went on.

  “In the morning.” As an added precaution, and in hopes of keeping the Justice officers as confused as possible, the three of them had all taken up at different inns in different parts of the city for the duration of the festival.

  “Good,” Flynn nodded. “Fill her in, and have her report back to me as soon as possible. In person.”

  Knoxx hid his wince in his tankard, drinking deeply. “So where do we stand on the rest of things?” he asked a moment later, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  “Good. The Thieves from Sekasortia aim to begin a city-wide riot to distract the Justice officers here in Tyrell, an act that should not appear too suspicious in light of what occurred just last night. No doubt it will simply be seen as the result of more rowdy revelers, and by the time it is known for anything else, we’ll be long gone. I’ve given all other Thieves free rein to loot the city to further add to the mayhem. If all goes well, the whole of Tyrell will be utter chaos for most of the night. Leaving very little chance for reinforcements to be deployed to the Tulan ranch, or to pursue us back to Corbit’s Canyon.”

  The mage grinned, imagining the scene. A scheme such as this was Flynn’s trademark, and there remained little doubt he would be recorded as one of the best Thieves’ commanders in all of history.

  “And the road?” Knoxx asked next.

  Flynn began nodding. “The Thieves from Beavihm and I have worked that out as well. We don’t anticipate any problems that we won’t be ready for.”

  Knoxx began to feel stirrings of the giddy anticipation which tended to precede all such large-scale heists. It was a feeling he craved, loved, lived for. Only his magic gave him a similar rush, and he therefore considered his life perfect for allowing him a profession that let him indulge in both. Not for a moment had he ever regretted choosing Thieves as his Secondary, no matter the exile it had cost him. Knoxx loved his life exactly as it was.

  “Sounds as though we have everything in place,” he said now.

  “Almost,” Flynn agreed. “Once Tishan learns how many Justic
e officers have been commissioned to be at the ball, we can see to the final few details. And once she reports which mages will be present, you can decide how you wish to handle them.”

  Knoxx nodded wordlessly. The mages were his responsibility, and, depending upon who they were and what powers they carried—although he could make a fairly good guess regarding the latter—he might have to find creative ways to incapacitate them. Many Thieves didn’t think twice about murder, so long as they gained their prize, but Flynn did not run that sort of crew. Murder did occasionally result, but generally only as a last resort. Flynn tended to punish needless killings with death, a sentence he usually carried out himself—and in this he showed little mercy.

  With their present business now concluded, Flynn drained his tankard, got to his feet, and left the tavern.

  Having no other pressing matters to attend to elsewhere, Knoxx continued to drink his ale while glancing about. Several men were rolling bones at a corner table, growing louder with each toss. Many more were engaged in an arm-wrestling tournament in the center of the room. Given the establishment’s reputation, the mage predicted a fight to break out at any moment. Unconcerned, he turned back to his beverage, drinking contentedly.

  Minutes later a man slipped noiselessly into the seat Flynn had vacated. Knoxx glanced over reflexively, and then spit out his mouthful of ale all over the countertop of the bar.

  “Subtle, brother. I see keeping a low profile is not a part of your current agenda.”

  Knoxx grabbed a napkin and began mopping up his mess before the barkeep, a huge man who was now staring at him, had the idea to club him over the head.

  “By the deepest Chasms of Fire, what are you doing here, Dev?” he said, still working to overcome his shock.

  “I saw you on the street and followed you in. I thought it best to let you conclude your business with the Cejan before approaching.”

  Knoxx sighed impatiently. “I meant, what are you doing in Tyrell?”

  Devlin Alvik grinned. Four years older than Knoxx, he shared the same yellow hair and blue eyes as his brother, and was just as lean, standing only a couple of inches shorter. Their features were somewhat similar, but the two would only be connected as brothers if standing next to each other—a very rare occurrence, and one that had not happened in almost a year.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Devlin replied. His smile remained while he said this, but no longer did it reach his eyes. Knoxx was instantly intrigued.

  “Official business?” he ventured, signaling for more ale.

  His brother displayed a brief flash of dry amusement at that. “Most definitely not official business.”

  The mage accepted his fresh tankard and sipped at the liquid within, pondering.

  “I suppose I have no need to ask what’s brought you to Ardin’s Pride,” Devlin said then, reaching for his own beverage.

  “Oh, we have a special surprise in store for all this year,” Knoxx replied, grinning wickedly. “That said, will you still be around at the end of the week? For if so, it would likely be best that I give you some forewarning.”

  “Regretfully, no,” Devlin answered. “I’ve already pushed my absence too far, and need to start back to Aralexia. I had planned on setting out tomorrow.”

  Knoxx was disappointed, but glad his brother wouldn’t be a first-hand witness to the carnage the Thieves were set to unleash upon Tyrell on the final day of the festival. He then proceeded to tell Devlin the full extent of what they were planning.

  “Best you not be caught for this, little brother,” Devlin laughed after hearing it all. “For even my pleas for leniency would likely not carry enough weight.”

  Knoxx shrugged, unconcerned. “Worst case scenario, we make off with nothing. But Flynn’s plans never fail, and I don’t expect this one to.”

  “I almost wish now that I were staying. I’m sure I’d have no trouble garnering an invitation to the ball, although I would then have to reveal myself for whom I am—something that I unfortunately cannot risk.”

  Knoxx eyed his brother appraisingly. He would make one more attempt, and if Devlin still refused to answer, he would drop it. But he didn’t like the sound of what he was hearing.

  “And why might that be?” he asked blandly.

  There was a very long pause as Devlin seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Finally, he said, “Trust me, Knoxx, that you want none of this. I shouldn’t even be speaking to you now, for if this plays out wrong anyone even seen in my presence here will be in danger.”

  Knoxx’s eyes narrowed, all his humor vanished. “What have you gotten yourself into? And how deeply?” he demanded worriedly. His brother was sly, devious, and far too clever to let most even suspect his full capabilities. His role in Aralexia was a dance, a very dangerous dance that demanded he perform it without the slightest misstep for his very life depended upon it. But intrigue was Devlin’s game. Whatever reason had brought him to Tyrell, it sounded as though he was now swimming in waters much deeper than those he was accustomed to.

  Devlin looked indecisive over whether to say anything more, then, finally, “I am not in so far that I couldn’t yet turn back, but a diviner has laid clear my path. More specifically, a Savannon diviner.”

  Knoxx suddenly realized why his brother was in Tyrell. Although there were many Savannon diviners scattered all about the country, only here, and this very week, could he have found the opportunity to approach one with total anonymity. The mage felt a chill go through him as he realized the lengths his brother had gone to to keep his actions secret—and the likeliest reason why. The details were no longer important.

  “I cannot argue with the words of a diviner,” he said, taking his brother in with utter seriousness. “And so I ask you—how can I help?”

  Devlin exhaled heavily and turned his eyes away. He sat this way for several minutes, his expression lost to his own thoughts. When at last he spoke, his words were halting.

  “There is something. I cannot see to it myself, for I dare not risk being away from Aralexia any longer.”

  “That leaves no problem,” Knoxx returned instantly. “Tell me what you need done.”

  Devlin turned to him sharply, his look intense. “This cannot be taken lightly. Discovery would without question lead to our deaths, and to the deaths of many others. And I can reveal to you no details, at least not at this time.”

  “I understand.” And he did, to an extent. Although it was he who wore the medallions of Magic and Thieves, it was Devlin, with his Arts and Justice, who led the life under constant threat. No matter the true cause behind this, the mage did not doubt for a moment the danger his brother was now warning him of.

  “Very well, then,” Devlin said, nodding. “I need information on two men. I am more interested in their pasts than their present, but the more you can tell me of them the better. I want it all—appearances, personalities, Choice medallions. No detail is too small.”

  Knoxx shifted slightly on his stool. This was not the sort of task he’d been expecting.

  “I trust you have two particular men in mind,” he said.

  Devlin ignored this. “I have only first names,” he went on, now speaking very quietly, “which are Taleb and Nathon. They both wear War Birth medallions and are slaves to Lord Ean Oslund.”

  Knoxx was now more confused than ever, unable to figure why his brother would be this interested in a couple of slaves—and why this interest was so very dangerous. But, he knew better than to question any further, and simply nodded.

  “They are ignorant of any curiosity toward them, and must remain that way,” Devlin went on, stressing the importance of this with a firm tone.

  “I will have to find a way to infiltrate the Oslund vineyard,” Knoxx mused quietly. He was well aware of the estate, being a lover of the fine wine the Oslunds brewed and sold all around the world.

  Devlin glanced over at his brother’s Secondary. “It would lik
ely be best to conceal that when you do.”

  The mage scowled but nodded. He wore his Thieves medallion proudly, but in some situations it was best kept hidden. No chance would the Oslunds—or any other self-respecting family—let a known thief onto their lands. Mages, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter.

  “Am I to presume that this information needs to be gathered in a timely fashion?”

  Devlin appeared to ponder briefly. “It is not entirely urgent, but I fear too long a delay now that this path has begun revealing itself. Also is the matter of how you will get the information to me once you have it—for I would trust neither messengers nor birds with this.” He paused. “I presume your guild intends to come to Aralexia for the King’s Challenge, as usual?”

  Knoxx nodded. “We never miss it.” The games of the King’s Challenge were the biggest gambling event of the year—and generally, the only opportunity the brothers had to see each other.

  “All right,” Devlin said, “it looks as though the information will have to hold until then. You bringing it to me personally will be the only safe way.”

  Knoxx liked the plan. It also gave him almost five weeks to gather the intelligence his brother was requesting—plenty of time to figure out his strategies and execute them.

  “You can tell no one of your actions, Knoxx,” Devlin went on then. “Lest you endanger them.”

  Knoxx didn’t think taking some time from the guild and leaving Corbit’s Canyon was going to be a problem. Unless Flynn needed him for a specific job, that was, but even if so, he now had five weeks to play with and would simply work around it. He foresaw no trouble getting to the Oslund vineyard. But he would have to think carefully on how to handle matters once arrived there. Two men adorned in War Birth medallions was not a challenge to take lightly; if he was not careful enough to avoid arousing their suspicions, they would no doubt kill him without thinking twice about it. The mage withheld a sigh.

  Devlin was watching him. “Are you certain of this, brother?”

  Knoxx looked back at him squarely. “I’m certain.” He also had a thousand questions he was dying to ask, but he kept them stifled. Not only did he know Devlin wouldn’t answer, but he was also now fairly certain that knowing the full truth of this matter would scare him silly.

  The brothers finished their drinks and then left The Giggling Hyena, staggering their departure in case any curious eyes were watching.

  Chapter 9