Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2) Page 27

  That moment had changed Ilanna. She found herself dreaming again; not the nightmares of being pursued or screaming in Sabat’s grip, but about a future filled with possibility. She’d clung to that dream since Kodyn’s birth. She’d envisioned herself taking her son away from Praamis to start a new life. Everything she’d done since that day had been to further that goal.

  Now, a new face entered those dreams. She stood beside Kodyn and Ria, building a new, happy life. Though it left her confused, she wouldn’t drive those dreams away. They served as the single bright spot in a life that had, thus far, been filled with misery and suffering. One day soon, she told herself, I’ll be done with this.

  But first they had to get across this endless stretch of the most boring landscape on Einan. She wished for a rain cloud, a pack of animals, even an extra-long blade of grass to break the monotony.

  “What’s got your fuss up?”

  She glanced at Errik. He seemed so at ease on the hard wooden bench, as if he’d spent years driving a wagon team. How could he be so calm at a time like this?

  “Going over all the things that have to be done, and realizing there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.” She stabbed a frustrated finger at the draft animals. “Worse, somehow we got stuck with the slowest pack of horses in Praamis!”

  Errik chuckled. “And Jarl said you’d never relax.”

  “How can you?” His mirth irked her. “Aren’t you thinking about everything that could go wrong while we’re gone?”

  The Serpent shrugged. “Sure, but what are you going to do?” He gestured at the barren landscape. “You’ve made your plan, left the right people with their tasks, now there’s nothing more to be done. The more I make this trip, the more I realize worrying doesn’t make time pass more quickly.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You do this often?”

  Errik shook his head. “Not often, but House Hound sometimes gets us in to help if they suspect their fugitives will get violent. Seeing as I learned the ways of Voramis while hunting Malak Short-Hand, I usually get the job.”

  Ilanna had known of his Undertaking hunting the ruthless Praamian killer-for-hire who had fled the King’s justice. But she knew of very little else of his life or work for House Serpent.

  “What’s it like? Being a Serpent?”

  Errik gave her an odd look. “What does that mean?”

  Ilanna rolled her eyes. “Back with the Reckoner, Tyren, you said torturing a man takes something out of you. Is that how you feel?”

  The Serpent’s face hardened to a blank, stony mask. “It’s the way of things,” he said with forced nonchalance.

  “Don’t give me that.” She scowled. “Look around you. There’s no one to overhear, just you and me, Serpent.”

  For long moments, Errik remained silent, the tension in his expression spreading to his shoulders and back. Finally, he shrugged. “Not a job I thought I’d end up doing, but it could be worse. The way things were before…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing.

  “Before what?” Ilanna pressed.

  Errik cocked his head but said nothing.

  “Errik, wh—”

  “Hush!” he snapped. “Listen.”

  Ilanna, furious at being cut off, had a retort ready, but something stopped her. A curious whistling reached her ears. “What is it?” Judging by Errik’s stiff posture, nothing good.

  She glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place on the stark barrenness of the Windy Plains, save for the occasional gust of breeze and that eerie sound.

  Errik glanced behind. “Keeper’s teeth!”

  Ilanna whirled, her eyes going wide. Thick clouds formed a wall that reached down from the sky to blanket the land in dark grey.

  She turned to Errik, heart racing. “Can we outrun it?”

  “Not a chance!” Errik snapped the reins, and the horses lurched forward into a run. “We’ve got maybe half an hour to find cover before that windstorm hits us full force.” He turned to her, face pale. “Trust me, we do not want to be in the open when that happens.”

  “Where can we go?” She stood, her gaze sweeping the landscape for any shelter from the storm.

  “I don’t know!” Errik’s voice bordered on panicked. “There’s nothing around for—”

  “There!” She thrust a finger eastward. “There’s a dip in the land, with what looks like a rocky hollow.”

  “How far?”

  Ilanna squinted. “I don’t know. Half a league, maybe.” She glanced back. The cloudwall had closed the distance between them. She had no idea if they could make it, but what choice did they have? “We have to try!”

  With a shout for the horses, Errik turned the wagon off the track. The whistling grew louder with every heartbeat, the wind picking up speed. Soon it whipped her hair free of its restraining ties and set her cloak lashing around. Errik snapped the reins over and over, driving the stubborn draft horses to their full speed. Ilanna clung to the bouncing wagon. Her teeth rattled and her back and rear ached from the hard wooden bench, but she made no protest.

  She cursed as the first drops splashed down around them. The sky soon poured in earnest. The chilling rain soaked through her cloak and tunic in a matter of seconds. She winced as her knees slammed against the wooden dashboard but dared not move for fear of being thrown. One wrong jolt could send her off the side.

  Beside her, Errik squinted into the blinding rain. Dark clouds blotted out the sun, making it near impossible to see more than a few paces in any direction. Ilanna could only hope Errik’s sense of direction held true. Without any distinguishing features to guide them, they had one chance to find shelter—pitiful as it may be—from the storm.

  The ground dipped beneath them, and Ilanna shouted in triumph as the wagon rattled down the hill toward the pile of stones. Errik guided the animals around the stones. Relief flooded Ilanna at the sight of the overhang carved into a mammoth boulder. Seizing their packs, she flung herself from the wagon and into the shelter before Errik drew the wagon to a full halt.

  The rocky hollow had a shelf at knee height, far enough off the ground that they could escape the water creeping across the ground. Errik pulled the horses as far into the shelter as possible, removed their traces, and climbed onto the shelf beside her. The animals and wagon blocked the hollow’s entrance, keeping out the wind and rain.

  Relief flooded Ilanna. She quickly stripped to her thin undertunic and wrapped herself in the blanket from her pack. Errik did the same, hanging their clothing over the wagon’s bench. They reclined against the wall, huddled in their blankets, listening to the windstorm pounding the Windy Plains.

  Errik spoke first. “Well, that was bloody close!”

  Ilanna grinned. “I never doubted you.”

  The Serpent returned her smile, but his face fell.

  “What is it?” Ilanna asked.

  Errik frowned. “These storms can last for hours, sometimes days.”

  Ilanna’s gut tightened. “Meaning we might be here a while.”

  “Aye. And, as you well know, we don’t have a lot of time to spare.”

  Ilanna inclined her head. “Which is why I made sure we had a day or two to spare.” They should have enough time to make the journey, provided the windstorm abated soon.

  He leaned forward and studied the sky. “At this rate, we’d best settle in for a long wait.”

  “So be it.” Ilanna nodded and wriggled to a comfortable position. “But someone once told me ‘worrying doesn’t make time pass more quickly’.”

  Errik raised an eyebrow. “A very wise someone, indeed.”

  “Maybe.” A sly smile played on her lips. “But I find myself questioning the wisdom of a man who gets himself stuck dangling two stories above the street.”

  Errik blushed. “You bring that up, now? You swore you’d never speak of it.”

  One of the conditions for his training her was that she took him up on the Hawk’s Highway. His first trip had not gone well. She’d had to summon Jarl and Gorin t
o help him down.

  “I’m sure the Pathfinders never sit around House Hawk talking and laughing about it, either.”

  The pink in his cheeks turned to a deep red. He’d grown more adept at the ways of the rooftops since, but the memory still embarrassed him.

  “Just remember, Hawkling, I have a long memory.” He gave her a mock scowl. “Insult me too often, and you might wake one morning up with a scorpion in your bed.”

  Ilanna laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll never speak of it again.”

  A companionable silence descended in the hollow. Ilanna found her mind wandering back to Praamis, her son, and Ria. She’d spent hours puzzling over her feelings for the dark-skinned girl. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Ethen.

  “Your forehead’s gone all wrinkled again.” Errik raised an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?”

  Ilanna hesitated. She trusted Errik as much as anyone, but he was Guild. She had to protect Kodyn and Ria. “I was thinking about what you said earlier,” she deflected. “You say ‘the way things were before’. You mean before the Guild?”

  Errik went rigid, the expressionless mask descending again, but he nodded.

  “Things must have been bad if the Night Guild is the lesser evil.” She leaned forward. “Tell me about it.”

  Errik said nothing.

  “Fine, I’ll go first.”

  She told him what she remembered of her childhood: her mother, the time they spent in the garden, learning to dance, and Baby Rose. Her voice went cold as she spoke of her father, of how he’d taken the few coins she earned and wasted them on drink. Finally, of how he’d promised to take her someplace special for her eighth nameday, and how he’d delivered her to Iltair—a Bloodbear Journeyman, she’d learned—in payment of his debts.

  Errik nodded. “I always wondered why you were wearing such a bright dress.”

  Ilanna’s eyes widened. “You remember that?”

  “Of course.” Errik gave her an odd smile. “You were the one girl in the crowd. Smaller and weaker than the rest of us, but the only one who never gave up.”

  A warm glow suffused Ilanna’s chest.

  “It’s why I stood up to him, you know.”

  “Him?”

  “Sabat. Twelve.”

  The name curdled Ilanna’s stomach. It brought back the memory of the Bloodbear apprentice’s leering face. During their time in the Menagerie, under Master Velvet, Two had defied to the bigger boy, even though it earned him a beating.

  “I saw how he tried to shove you around, but you wouldn’t cower. Sure, he hit you hard, yet you always got back up. You might have been afraid of him—hell, we all were. You didn’t let it stop you.”

  It was Ilanna’s turn to blush.

  “Life wasn’t always good for me.” Errik’s eyes slid away. “Living on the streets isn’t easy, ’specially if you’ve got no older brothers to keep the bigger boys away. I learned fear from a young age. The Guild offered me a better way, a way where I could be the strong one. It’s why I was happy to be selected for House Serpent. The things they’ve taught me, I’ll never be weak again.”

  He met her eyes now. “But it wasn’t the Serpents that taught me not to be afraid. You did that. Seeing you struggle on no matter what, I learned the meaning of courage.” He gave her a sad smile. “I…I wanted to be like you.”

  Ilanna’s eyes widened. How could he say that? She had been a fearful, weepy creature afraid of what would happen if she failed.

  “So I stood up to him, like you did. Sure, he beat me, but I’ve been pounded worse by my Serpent trainers. I learned that it’s better to take a beating than be a coward. You showed me that.”

  Ilanna blushed. She could find no words.

  “Then I saw you survive on the streets, with the Foxes. Even after Sabat broke you, you got right back up. That determination I saw in you got me through some tough times.”

  He shrugged out of the blanket, and she caught her breath. His bare chest and arms bore dozens of scars.

  “Training in House Serpent is neither easy nor kind. They put us through hell to turn us into what we are.” He hesitated, drew in a breath. “I nearly put an end to it all, more than once. Just to escape the cruelty, you know?”

  His eyes met hers. “But you didn’t quit, and I’d be damned if I let a girl like you show me up.”

  Ilanna smiled, but a maelstrom of emotions seethed within her. She’d always thought of Errik as a comrade, an ally, even. She felt comfortable around him though she never thought to ask why. She’d succeeded in her Undertaking because of his help. But hearing this from him…did he see her differently?

  As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “Don’t think I’m saying this expecting anything from you. Watcher knows Allon’s already got a big enough bee in his britches.”

  She relaxed slightly.

  “Besides, you’re not the only girl in the Night Guild.” He winked. “Not even the prettiest one, for that matter.”

  She growled and punched his arm. “Dangerous words, Serpent.”

  He smiled. “I’m saying this so you understand why I’m here. Not that I mind the fact you’re going to make me the richest Serpent since Journeyman Mallen. But I’m in this because I know that if anyone’s going to succeed, it’ll be you. You never stopped in the Menagerie, and you haven’t gotten any less stubborn over time. You’re going to do big things, Hawkling. I know it.” He turned a mischievous smile on her. “And I’ll be damned if I miss out on all the fun along the way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Ilanna groaned in relief as Traders’ Gate came into view. “About bloody damned time.”

  Errik grunted in agreement and clicked his tongue to urge the horses up the gentle incline. A small line of carts queued before Voramis’ southernmost gate. Ilanna forced herself to take a deep breath and relax. Impatience wouldn’t get them into the city any sooner.

  The journey to Voramis had taken two days longer than anticipated. The draft horses had suffered the worst of the windstorm. Only Errik’s foresight to bring ten days of supplies for the week-long trip had kept them from starving. Over the last few days, they’d settled into a comfortable familiarity. It brought a sense of sorrow; she’d miss the Serpent when she left the Guild behind.

  “Papers.” A gruff, businesslike voice snapped her from her reverie.

  Errik placed his travel documents in the hands of the red-robed Heresiarch, Voramis’ city guards and peacekeepers. The man muttered as he scanned the parchments, shrugged, and handed them back.

  “Business in Voramis?”

  Errik jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Got a load of raw Praamian wool heading to market.” He tapped the wax seal. “Sent by Lord Gileon of House Beritane.”

  The guard lifted the tarpaulin covering the wagon and prodded the bales. “Any weapons larger than that belt dagger of yours? Sword, perhaps?”

  Errik turned his palms up. “Wouldn’t know what to do even if I had one.”

  “Good.” The Heresiarch tapped his sword hilt. “Only we can carry weapons in Voramis. You get caught with a sword…” He mimicked a noose. “Them’s the laws.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Errik dipped his head. “If that’ll be all, I’ve a load to deliver before the sun sets.”

  The guard glanced at the sky. “Better hurry. You know your way through the Merchant’s Quarter?”

  “Aye, though I’d appreciate a recommendation of a tavern where the missus and I can get a decent meal.”

  The guard nodded. “The Iron Arms, a short walk from the port. Good ale, and Mistress Gunna makes a wicked lamb stew. Wine’s not much better’n piss, though.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Tipping his wide-brimmed hat to the guard, Errik flicked the reins and set the horses moving. “After a week on the road, I’d welcome a hot meal.”

  Ilanna didn’t catch the guard’s reply as the cart clattered through the gate.

  Merchant’s Quarter lived up to its
name. Stalls and shops lined the cobblestone avenue, vendors cried their wares, and wagons laden and empty clattered past. Farther into the city, the crowds grew thicker. The smell of spices and cooking food blended with the pungent odors of the draft horses and oxen hauling carts. After a week on the open road, the low murmur of the city seemed almost overwhelming.

  To the west, squat warehouses stood between the main avenue and the bustling Port of Voramis. To the east rose an enormous cliff, upon which sat the luxurious mansions of Upper Voramis. Errik turned the wagon up a side street and into a spacious wagonyard.

  “We’re here.”

  Ilanna stifled a groan as she climbed off the wagon. The wooden bench had done terrible damage to her rear. She doubted she’d ever stand straight after the last few days of travel, but at least they’d made it to Voramis—late, hopefully with enough time.

  “Let me deal with this and we’ll be off.” Errik strode into the warehouse, papers in hand. The load of wool belonged to Lord Beritane. The Guild’s pet noble had signed their travel documents. After the expenses of the trip, Lord Beritane stood to make a tidy profit off Ilanna’s trip to Voramis.

  While she waited, Ilanna slid open the hidden compartment and extracted the satchel that contained their gear and weapons.

  Errik returned a few minutes later. “Foreman says he’ll have something ready for us to haul back to Praamis by day after tomorrow.” His brow furrowed. “Seems a bit tight to me.”

  Ilanna couldn’t help but agree. She had no idea how to find the Secret Keepers’ temple, much less come up with a way to get in and out unnoticed. She’d hoped to have a few days to learn her way around and get a feel for the city before pulling off the heist. But given the delay—and factoring another potential delay into their return home—she had no more time to work with.

  “It’ll have to do. Let’s just hope Donneh’s contact is as good as she says he is.”