Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2) Page 30

  Another man came to stand beside the first. This one had long, wispy, blond hair and a pathetic beard to match. “All sorts of rough types around. Lucky you, we’re here to offer you a safe escort home.”

  A glint of silver caught Ilanna’s eye. The thug’s cloak pin bore a long-fingered hand tipped with razor claws. The Bloody Hand.

  The man hefted his short dagger. “No one’ll mess with you so long as we’re here.”

  The first thug spoke up again. “All for the modest sum of two imperials.” Another smile, another glimpse of rotten teeth. “S’a bargain, if you ask me.”

  “Of course, some people find the price a bit high.” Another voice spoke from behind them, and both Ilanna and Errik shifted. “If you’re not inclined to agree, perhaps we’d best leave you to whatever fate the gods have in store for you.” Judging by the way he hefted the cosh, he had a definite idea of that “fate”.

  The other three thugs remained silent, but their weapons—a motley collection of daggers and clubs—spoke volumes.

  “I-I don’t have t-two imperials.” Errik managed a convincing stammer, his voice quavering. “All I’ve got is a silver drake and a few copper bits.” He produced his purse.

  The first thug snatched it and peered inside. “Not even an imperial.” He shook his head, tsking. “Not quite enough.”

  “It’s not all you’ve got, merchant man.” The second thug stepped closer to Ilanna, eying her with a leering grin. “I can think of another way for you to earn safe passage.”

  “Darling!” Ilanna gripped Errik’s arm tighter. “Give the man your purse before he hurts us!”

  “She speaks.” The second men leaned over Ilanna’s shoulder and drew in a deep breath. “Ahh! Smells prettier than she looks, this one.” He ran a finger along the back of Ilanna’s neck.

  Ilanna’s jaw clenched and she dug her nails into Errik’s arm. “Please, Relin dear, the purse!” The thug’s touch sent tendrils of disgust slithering through her gut.

  “Please!” Errik pulled out another money bag from a hidden pocket. “There are three imperials in here. It’s all we have.”

  The first thug’s eyes darkened. “You was holdin’ out on us, eh?” He shifted his grip on the truncheon and drove it into Errik’s gut.

  The Serpent doubled over, and Ilanna let out another shriek. “Relin!” Errik let out a strangled gasp and, groaning, straightened. His eyes met Ilanna’s and he gave a tiny shake of his head.

  “Seems like we’ll have to teach you a lesson about lying to the Bloody Hand!” The thug hefted his club again.

  Ilanna raised a hand. “There’s no need for that.”

  The bearded thug stopped, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “You have your money.” Ilanna spoke in a tone of perfect calm, without a trace of hesitation or fear in her voice. “Let it be done.”

  The second thug’s hand tightened on the back of her arm. “What’s this? A bit of backbone, eh?” He leaned in close and whispered. “I like women with a bit of fight in them. Makes it more fun.”

  Ilanna’s knuckles grew white. A lump of ice formed in the pit of her stomach. The man’s hot, fetid breath sent a shudder down her spine. His hand slid down the front of her dress, and his breathing came faster as he pressed himself against her side.

  Errik spoke up. “Don’t do this, please!”

  The first thug slapped Errik hard. “Your begging won’t stop us from having our bit of fun.”

  A cold, hard smile spread Ilanna’s face. “He wasn’t talking to you.”

  Her right hand slid the dagger from her bracer and brought it across and up. Blood sprayed from the second thug’s neck, and the lust in his eyes transformed to an expression of abject horror. He gurgled and clutched at his torn throat.

  Beside her, steel whispered on leather, followed by the wet, sucking sound of a blade sliding through flesh. She turned in time to see the bearded thug drop to his knees. Errik pulled his dagger free of the man’s chest with a vicious twist.

  A gasp sounded behind Ilanna, followed by a yell of rage. She turned to meet the two thugs charging from behind. Both towered a full head over her and were far broader in the shoulder. She couldn’t hope to meet them with nothing more than her slim bracer dagger. She hurled the blade at the man on the right. He batted it aside with his truncheon. Ilanna slipped beneath the cross-body strike of the other thug’s club and brought her knee up into the first man’s groin. He grunted and dropped like a felled oak.

  “Bitch!” The second thug swung for her head. Ilanna retreated from the fast, powerful strikes. She couldn’t risk drawing her slim sword—it wouldn’t survive a battering from the thick truncheon. She danced out of reach and fumbled in her pouch. Her fingers found glass and she hurled the jar of dust. It shattered on the man’s face, spraying shards and grit. The thug coughed and fumbled to wipe his eyes. Drawing a push dagger from her bracer, Ilanna drove her fist into the man’s throat. The man gasped and slumped.

  Behind her, someone gave a wet cough. Ilanna ripped her rapier free of its sheath as she whirled. The blond thug, the one who’d fondled her, lay sprawled on the muddy streets. His breath came in shallow pants, his hand pressed against the tear in his neck. Ilanna stalked toward him, heart hammering against her ribs.

  “You know what I did to the last person who laid hands on me?” She pushed the tip of her sword between his knee joint. His weak scream ended in a gurgle. Pulling her blade free, she crouched beside his head and seized him by the silver cloak pin. “Your death is a kindness compared to his.”

  Ilanna drove her blade into his eye socket. The man twitched and jerked. A dark stain spread through his britches, and Ilanna cringed at the scent of his bowels loosening.

  She glanced over at Errik. The Serpent crouched over the body of a thug, wiping his dagger on the man’s jerkin. He raised an eyebrow at Ilanna as she pulled her sword free. “You hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  Errik nodded. “Let’s get out—”

  A piercing whistle shattered the night. Ilanna whirled, heart sinking. In her rage, she’d forgotten to dispatch the first thug. The metal whistle in his lips was, no doubt, meant to summon more of his comrades.

  “Night Guild scum!” The man struggled to stand, hands clasped between his legs. “Your Praamian accents give you away, and only Serpents fight like that!”

  Ilanna darted toward him, but Errik caught her arm. “We need to go. Now! There’s hundreds of Bloody Hand in Lower Voramis. No way we can fight them all.”

  Rage burned in Ilanna’s chest. Just killing the man who’d laid hands on her wasn’t enough; every one of the bastards deserved to die.

  “Now, Ilanna!”

  The rational part of Ilanna’s mind took control and set her feet moving. She found herself stumbling after Errik.

  The thug’s voice followed them. “We’ve dealt with your kind before! You won’t escape us.”

  The sound of booted feet echoed all around them. Errik ducked into an alley to avoid a group of thugs. He pulled her down the twisting, turning back streets, heedless of the muck and refuse splattering their clothes. Ilanna allowed him to drag her along, trusting him to lose their pursuers. She had no desire to contemplate what would happen if the Bloody Hand found them.

  * * *

  The first rays of morning light revealed the pale cast of Errik’s face. The Serpent peered out the shuttered window, worry written in tightness around his eyes.

  “It’s bad, Ilanna.” He turned to her. “The Bloody Hand isn’t exactly known for being forgiving. They’re more the ‘beat you to death first, ask questions never’ types.”

  Ilanna shook her head. “What did you expect me to do?”

  Errik held up his hands. “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m just saying we’re up to our eyes in shite.” He paced the room. “They know we use Lord Beritane’s carts, so that plan’s out the window. They’ll be watching the wagonyard. No way we’re going to risk it now.”

 
Ilanna leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on the silver cloak pin in her hands. It had torn free as she drove her sword into the man’s eye. The blood that covered it had begun crusting.

  Errik seemed not to notice. “So I’m going to have to find another way out. But I won’t be able to leave the inn until the late afternoon at least. Probably better if we go after dark. We’re going to have to abandon the plan to go back into the Temple of Whispers.”

  “No!” The words snapped Ilanna from her trance. “No. I’m not leaving Voramis without Kharna’s Breath.”

  “Ilanna, we need to get out here before the Bloody Hand—”

  “We’re. Not. Leaving!”

  Errik’s jaw muscles worked. “Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the Bloody Hand catches us? We’d be lucky to get out with nothing more than a painful death.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Are we safe here?”

  Errik looked around the tiny inn room and shrugged. “As safe as anywhere in the city, I guess. Goodman Haldrin’s as close to a friend as Master Serpent has in Voramis. From what I’ve heard, he’s not likely to sell us out for anything less than a King’s ransom in gold. Unless the Bloody Hand pushes him too hard, we should be safe.”

  “Good.” Ilanna nodded. “Then we’ll stay here until the sun’s nearly down. The entrance to the tunnels isn’t far from here. I’m sure I can get in and out without trouble. Think you can handle our escape?”

  Errik stroked his chin. “I think so.” He drew out a hidden purse and checked its contents. “It’ll take a pretty sizeable bribe, but I’m sure I can figure a way out of the city.”

  “Then that settles it.” She stuffed the silver pin into her pouch. “We rest.”

  Errik stood. “I’ll get us something to eat.” He eyed her bloodstained clothes. “Take the time to clean up.”

  Ilanna glanced down. Splotches of crimson stood out on the simple woolen dress. The crusting on her cheek told her the spray of arterial blood had covered her from head to toe.

  As Errik shut the door, she slipped the dress over her head and hurled it into the corner. She ignored the chill of the water in the basin as she splashed it over her face. It seemed no matter how much she scrubbed her hands and face, the blood wouldn’t wash away. But, as with Sabat’s blood, she didn’t mind. The Bloody Hand thugs had gotten what they deserved.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Ilanna’s stomach clenched as she climbed the steps to the hidden entrance into the Temple of Whispers. The journey through the tunnels had unnerved her. Something about the way the eerie wind broke the dead silence brought to mind an image of walking through the Long Keeper’s halls. She half-expected eyeless, rotting corpses to leap out at her.

  Yet the hardest part lay ahead. She had only her memory and Graeme’s code to navigate the maze of the Secret Keepers’ temple. One wrong turn and she’d wander forever. Delay too long and she’d have no choice but to flee Voramis empty-handed. With the Bloody Hand out for their heads, she had one chance to get what she’d come for.

  Not for the first time tonight, she regretted leaving Allon in Praamis. His flawless memory would come in handy in the twisting maze of the Temple of Whispers. He’d have retraced their steps to the work room with ease.

  The thought of entering the temple alone left her mouth dry and her palms sweaty. She’d need to be on full alert to spot the Secret Keepers before they spotted her. If only I had another pair of eyes. Willem would be the perfect partner. The Hawk’s ability to move silently rivaled any Serpent or Hound. It would be nice to have someone I can trust at my back for this bit.

  She pushed the thought aside. Lem had his own duties to attend to. She had to get in and out with haste. Errik would be waiting for her at the south gate two hours before dawn. Not a bloody lot of time, but it’ll have to do.

  Taking a deep breath, she drew out the little hawk figurine. She’d stolen it for Kodyn’s first nameday. His fingers had worn away most of the detail, but the solid feel of the wood stilled the slight tremor in her hand. For my little hawk. She pressed the hidden trigger. The door slid open without a sound, and Ilanna stepped into the pale, cold tunnels in the bowels of the Temple of Whispers.

  Graeme’s final words of warning echoed in her mind. “Leave no trace of your presence. The Secret Keepers will notice even the slightest thing out of place.”

  Ilanna tugged on her gloves, tightened the straps on her leather vest, and checked her gear one last time before slipping down the dimly lit corridor. As she walked, she repeated the sequence of numbers Graeme had made her memorize.

  3-1-2-2-1-3-3-2-1-1-2-3. “1” meant a right turn, “2” meant straight ahead, and “3” meant left.

  She turned left at the first intersection. At the end of that passage, she entered the high-ceilinged room with its enormous skeletons. The familiar sight bolstered her confidence. Between her memory and Graeme’s code, she could retrace their steps the previous night.

  Her path led through the room lined floor to ceiling with glass tanks, and her eyes strayed to the gruesome creatures floating within. Her certainty increased with every chamber she traversed. Within half an hour, Ilanna had reached the room filled with spices. The next intersection, she knew, was the one where Graeme had warned them to be cautious. She’d reached the part of the Temple of Whispers that housed the priests.

  Her heart hammered as she slipped through the shadowed corridors. The dim illumination of the alchemical light stones gave her few hiding places. She had to stay away from the walls; the stones brightened with her body heat. She couldn’t move too quickly for fear of making noise, but had to get out of the temple in time to meet up with Errik.

  At the far end of the next tunnel stood the room where she’d found Derelana’s Lance. She grinned. I can do this. Just a few more intersections and she’d reach the work room Graeme had pointed out.

  She crouched low and peered around the next corridor. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of two brown-robed figures gliding toward her. Damn it!

  She threw herself back into the work room and ducked beneath a bench. She huddled motionless, her eyes fixed on the door. Blood rushed in her ears.

  Two dark figures glided through the chamber—directly toward her. Moving slowly, she reached for the dagger in her bracer. The sandaled feet drew closer with each pounding heartbeat. Every muscle in her body coiled as she prepared to launch an attack.

  The Secret Keepers moved past without pause. Ilanna forced herself to take long, slow breaths. The tension in her body drained and she sheathed her blade when the two figures disappeared into the corridors beyond.

  Bloody hell, that was close! She remained still for a few minutes as the frantic racing of her heart slowed. The trembling hadn’t quite left her hands when she resumed her journey to the work room where she hoped to find Kharna’s Breath. She repeated Graeme’s sequence of numbers in her mind. The near run-in with the Secret Keepers had shaken her; it took her over a minute to be sure she had it right.

  The pressure in the back of her mind mounted. She was running out of time. But she couldn’t hurry, not so close to the Secret Keepers. She’d barely escaped one encounter. Would she get lucky a second time?

  She forced herself to maintain a slow pace. In her preparations to attempt the Black Spire, she’d spent hours learning to stalk in silence. Though she’d never be a Serpent or Hound, she held her own. The ability to move without a sound required her to maintain a steady, calm pace. Hurrying only increased the chance of an accidental noise: the scuffing of boots on stone, the swish of cloth, or the clank of steel.

  Her pulse quickened as she made the final turn and her eyes fell on the door Graeme had indicated. She rushed down the corridor, all but abandoning silence, and reached for the latch. The door slid open with ease.

  Darkness met her eyes. Relief flooded her. She slipped into the room and pressed the door shut, leaning against it as she fought to control her breathing. After a moment, she placed her hand against the nearest i
llumination stone. Light flared in the room, revealing a work room similar to the other. Shelves and cabinets held the same assortment of glass bottles and jars, alchemical burners, and tools of iron, steel, and silver.

  A door stood at the far end of the room. That has to be the storage!

  The illumination stone dimmed as she moved away, but she threaded through the work benches without fear. The Secret Keepers maintained absolute precision in their organization. Not a single glass bottle or jar stood out of place. The metal tools lay in neat rows, ready for use.

  She drew out her lockpicks and set to work. Two minutes later, the final pin slid into place. The lock clicked open.

  Her eyes widened. Glass bottles filled with liquid of every conceivable color lined the storage room shelves. Her heart sank. There must be a million bottles in here! Her chances of finding what she sought bordered on impossible.

  She called to mind the conversation she’d had with Graeme on their trek through the tunnels beneath Voramis. According to the assistant, Kharna’s Breath would be indistinguishable from water. On the plus side, that meant she could skip over any bottle that contained liquid with even a hint of color. On the downside, she had little over an hour to search the warehouse-sized room.

  Reaching into her pocket, she drew out the scrap of parchment and quickfire globe Graeme had given her. She held the parchment up to the nearest illumination stone and studied it. The assistant had scribbled a pair of odd-looking symbol onto the scrap: one representing the name “Kharna’s Breath”, the other for the storage section where he expected she’d find it.

  She walked down the rows, studying the signs hanging on each. Her heart leapt as she spotted the first symbol on Graeme’s parchment. Turning down the aisle, she scanned the thousands of glass bottles. The vast majority bore colored liquids. She studied those few with clear-colored contents more carefully. She paired one of her quickfire globes with the one Graeme had given her. According to the balding man, Kharna’s Breath would show up red under the light of that particular globe. Graeme had blathered on about light wavelengths for far too long. She’d lost interest once she knew the light would reflect off the antimony in the acid. All that matters is that it works!