Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2) Read online

  Her stomach tightened as she reached the end of the row. She hadn’t spotted the Secret Keeper symbol, and none of the bottles she held up to the light turned red. Either Graeme’s instructions are wrong, or I’m missing something here.

  Thousands of bottles filled with what looked like blood stood on the row of shelves to the left, while the row on the right held liquid metals. She returned to the first aisle. It has to be here!

  She slowed her steps, moving only when she was certain she hadn’t missed a single bottle or sign. The indecipherable symbols on the labels meant nothing to her, but they made her head swim and her eyes ache from comparing them to the symbol on her parchment. Her frustration mounted every time the clear-colored liquid in a glass bottle failed to turn red.

  Had Graeme made a mistake? Had he given her the wrong symbol to look for? Would his alchemical light even work? She should have hesitated when he’d said it should “In theory”. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do if her plan didn’t—

  She nearly missed the symbol. Her eyes slid over it without recognition, but something made her glance back. She’d made the same mistake a dozen times. But no! This was the symbol she sought.

  It sat on the top shelf, out of reach.

  Keeper’s teeth! In her mind, she heaped curses on the Bloody Hand. Because of them, she’d had to enter alone. Errik would’ve had no trouble reaching the top shelf.

  Graeme’s words thrummed through her. “The Secret Keepers will notice even the slightest thing out of place.” No way she could climb without making noise or knocking bottles out of place. Even if she moved them aside, she’d have to be certain to put them back in their precise location else risk discovery.

  Damn this! She had to climb to reach the glass bottles on the high shelf. She’d come this far; nothing would stop her now.

  She moved as quietly as she could, pushing aside bottles to make space for her feet. Clinging to the support beam, she clambered onto the middle shelf. She winced at the clink of glass on glass. A few bottles fell with a rattle. Icy feet dancing down her spine, she crouched and thrust a hand toward a vial rolling toward the edge. A heartbeat later, her fingers closed around the smooth glass.

  Ilanna heaved a sigh and replaced the bottle in its place. She straightened slowly, careful not to shake the shelves. Her eyes fell on the familiar symbol and the clear-colored liquid filling the vials sitting on the shelf. With her free hand, she drew out the quickfire globes and held them up to the bottles. The liquid turned a bright scarlet in the dim light leaking from the little glass spheres.

  Smothering a triumphant cry, Ilanna set the quickfire globes on the shelf and reached for one of the bottles. She’d just lifted one from its velvet cradle when she heard the click of the door lock. A moment later the light of an alchemical lantern streamed into the storage room.

  She froze, bottle in mid-air. The Secret Keepers walked in utter silence, with only the lamplight to mark their presence. Ilanna’s gut lurched as the light grew closer. Every shred of willpower went into keeping her movements slow and controlled as she slipped the bottle into her pouch. Panic dug icy fingers into the base of her neck. She had to separate the quickfire globes before their dim light revealed her presence, but she couldn’t move more quickly and risk the Secret Keepers hearing the rustle of cloth. She did the only thing she could: she tapped the nearest alchemical globe with her chin. The ball rolled toward the back of the shelf. The light faded.

  The Secret Keepers’ lantern moved beyond her row, toward the one holding the vials of blood. Moving without a sound required all Ilanna’s self-control. She wanted to leap down from the shelf and flee before the priests found her. But any quick or sudden movement would give her away. She had to hang on and hope the Secret Keepers left.

  Time slowed to a crawl as Ilanna waited. At any moment, the priests could turn the lamp beam toward her and she’d be caught. With the patience of a stalking predator, she pocketed the quickfire globes and slithered down the shelf support without a rattle of glass. She tugged the bottles back into place, precisely as she’d found them. Heart hammering against her ribs, she slipped away from the lantern light and toward the door.

  The Secret Keepers had left it unlocked. She opened it enough to squirm through, then shut it silently behind her. The darkness of the work room enveloped her, bringing a sense of comfort. She had what she’d come for. Time to get the frozen hell out of here.

  She glided through the corridors like a wraith. Her dark grey cloak blended with the shadows of the poorly-illuminated tunnels. Her memory led her back to the first work room and toward the door beyond. Just a little more to go, and I’ll be free of—

  Light suddenly flared in the room. Ilanna skidded to a halt two strides from the door. Two Secret Keepers entered and stopped short at the sight of her. Ilanna’s heart sank as one opened his mouth to shout.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Ilanna moved on instinct, drawing the throwing knife from her bracer and letting fly. The blade sliced through the priest’s neck, just above the collarbone. Without a sound, he clapped a hand to the gushing wound and collapsed against the wall.

  The second priest’s mouth remained open as if to cry out. Ilanna’s gut clenched as she caught a glimpse of the stump where his tongue had been. Only a faint keening issued from the man’s mouth. His right hand darted into his robes.

  Pulling another knife, Ilanna closed the distance in two strides and thrust the blade at the priest’s gut. Her blow went wide as the Secret Keeper slipped aside. She pursued him, slicing and stabbing with the blade. Frustration rumbled in her throat. The priest twisted, dodged, and retreated to avoid her attacks. Time and again, her blade struck only air.

  Then the priest did the last thing she expected. Instead of retreating, he stepped toward her, caught her forearm, and batted her strike wide. His fists became a blur, pounding at her face and gut. She staggered beneath the force of a dozen lightning punches. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs and set her vision wobbling.

  She backpedaled to avoid the next onslaught of strikes. The priest’s hands and feet flew at her from all sides. He moved with the fluidity and grace of flowing water but struck with the terrible strength of a charging bull. She grunted as the priest’s heel caught her beneath the ribs. Had she not twisted aside at the last moment, his kick would have hurled her into the work benches and tables behind her.

  As she doubled over, his hand cracked into the back of hers. The nerves went dead and the muscles of her hand loosened. Her knife clattered to the floor.

  Ilanna had a moment to think before the priest hurtled toward her, his slippered feet silent as death. She threw herself to the side, rolling around the nearest table. If she could clear enough space to reach for another dagger—

  The Secret Keeper’s feet flew as he leapt onto the bench and vaulted the table. His flying kick caught her in the side of the head. Darkness swam in her vision. When her eyes cleared, she found herself on the floor. Her skull ached from the blow and from striking the stone floor. Blood and dust filled her mouth.

  She cried out as a strong hand closed on her hair and dragged her to her knees. The Secret Keeper’s arm snaked around her neck, cutting off her breath. Her strangled shriek sounded so weak, so pathetic. She pounded at the arm, but it had no more effect than the wind buffeting a mighty mountain. Her mind shrieked in panic. Her lungs begged for air.

  Her fingers fumbled for another dagger from her bracer. The Secret Keeper caught her arm between his legs. She gave another pitiful gasp as the pressure of his knee on her shoulder strained the joint. The edges of her vision wavered and grew dark.

  She had one hope. Fumbling in her pouch, she drew out the thug’s cloak pin. She gripped the silver ring in her fist and gave a desperate punch up and back. Something hot and warm gushed over her hand. The grip on her throat loosened, and she slipped free with a gasp of air. Her throat ached, her head rang, and her left shoulder had slipped free of its socket, but she
didn’t stop to catalogue her injuries. She drew another dagger from her bracer—her last—and, whirling, drove it into the underside of the Secret Keeper’s chin.

  The priest’s mouth hung open, giving Ilanna a clear view of the mangled stump of his tongue and the length of steel piercing the roof of his mouth. His eyes widened and his hands fumbled at her cloak. She ripped the blade free, spraying blood. The Secret Keeper crumpled.

  The priest’s clothing muffled the sound, but Ilanna recognized the crack of glass. A terrible hissing rose from beneath the corpse. A moment later, a cloud of noxious smoke seeped out from beneath him. Ilanna leapt back, but the tendrils of olive green slithered toward her.

  A sudden ringing of bells filled the temple, setting Ilanna’s ears rattling. She whirled. The first Secret Keeper, the one she’d felled with her throwing knife, pressed a shining blue gemstone to the alchemical illumination stone set into the wall. Even as light flared in the room, the priest gave a faint gasp and slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

  Bloody hell!

  Without hesitation, Ilanna ripped her throwing knife free of the man’s throat and kicked the stone from his lifeless hand. Though the light of the gemstone dulled, the clangor of the alarm bell continued.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  She whirled toward the door that would lead her back to the hidden exit. A thick cloud of noxious smoke hung in her path. She hesitated only a second. She didn’t have time to wait. At any moment, the Secret Keepers would find her.

  Covering her mouth with her sleeve, she drew in a deep breath and charged through the cloud. For a heartbeat, the world disappeared and she lived in a world of smoke. The vapors seemed to cling to her clothes, face, and hair. A thousand tiny fires sprang to life beneath her skin.

  Then she was through and sucking in a deep breath of clean air. Fingers of green wrapped around her, seeking to pull her back into their embrace. She barreled the last few steps through the room and into the corridor beyond.

  The tunnel spun and wobbled. She staggered against a wall, her gut lurching. She pawed at her burning face with hands that burned and throbbed. A thin, oily film clung to every bit of exposed flesh. Every breath drove daggers into her ribs.

  She stumbled onward, fighting to keep her feet. She imagined she could feel the noxious chemicals seeping into her body. The world slowed to a crawl. Though she knew her heart pounded a frantic beat, it seemed an eternity passed between each pulse.

  I’m dying, she realized. Her lungs shrieked for air. Her mind grew sluggish, unresponsive to her commands. She watched from behind her own eyes as her muscles drove her onward like one of the Illusionist Clerics’ clockwork creations.

  Darkness passed before her eyes. She floated in a haze, numb, unseeing, helpless. With only the loud thump, thump of her pulse for company, she waited for the inevitable. The Long Keeper would come for her.

  The face of her son flashed through her mind. She pictured him as she’d seen him last: laughing, smiling, the food stains on his face a perfect match for the mud coating his hands. The chill of sorrow seeped into her numbness.

  I’ll never see him again.

  He would grow into a man without her. Who would teach him the skills he’d need to survive the world she’d condemned him to? Could he remain hidden from the Night Guild forever, or would all her efforts be for naught? In the end, when hunger, cold, and misery inevitably took him—as they took everyone—he would become just one more tool for the Night Guild to use.

  Another face came to mind. Ria’s. The dark-skinned girl’s eyes sparkled with tears, but the fire of strength burned deep within.

  Ria will take care of him. She will turn him into a man his father would be proud of.

  His father. Not the bastard Bloodbear whose vile actions had brought Kodyn into the world. Ethen, the tyro who had brought her a crust of bread when Master Velvet punished her. The voice of encouragement when she’d been a breath from giving up. The happy Scorpion who had sat with her in her garden and made her forget her troubles. She had always wanted to tell Kodyn stories of the man who, in her heart, she considered his true father.

  I’ll never get that chance now. The beating of her heart stopped. She hung in the void, bathing in the peace enveloping her. In the arms of the Long Keeper, she’d never feel pain again. All her suffering, the misery she’d lived for the last fifteen years of her life, gone forever.

  But she wouldn’t see Kodyn again, wouldn’t feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around her neck. She had no desire for peace if she couldn’t have Kodyn beside her.

  And Ria.

  The realization struck her with enough force to jolt her out of the numbing haze. Her heart gave one desperate beat, then another.

  She held Ria’s face in the forefront of her mind. Ria had smiled just once, but Ilanna clung to that memory of happiness with every shred of willpower. She had to get back to Ria and Kodyn. Her son needed her. Ria needed her. And she needed the both of them. Kodyn had given her something to fight for, but Ria gave her something to hope for.

  The girl had brought a spark of light into her life in a way her son never could. She’d seen the look in Ria’s eyes in that perfect moment in her kitchen. There had been recognition there, the understanding of what they shared, what bonded them in a way no one else understood. The two of them had endured a lifetime of horrors and suffering. Yet through it, they had found each other. Ilanna had hoped to provide the strength and protection Ria had needed. Ria had given her a greater gift: a home. And perhaps something more, something she thought she’d never have after Ethen’s death. The nascent feelings had insinuated themselves into her mind and heart during the journey to Voramis. She had no idea if they would lead anywhere, but by the Watcher, she’d live long enough to find out!

  With a groan, Ilanna dragged herself up the wall. Her head felt stuffed with wool. The ringing of the alarm bell set her ears ringing, but she welcomed the sound. Her gut cavorted and twisted like an unbroken stallion. Swallowing the acid rising to her throat, she poured all her strength into taking one step. Just one!

  One step became two, then four, then ten. Ilanna drew in a ragged, gasping breath. Her chest ached and her lungs burned, but sensation slowly returned to her limbs. She stumbled as fast as her legs could carry her.

  She stopped at the first intersection. Her sluggish mind struggled to remember the sequence of numbers.

  3-1-1… She cursed. No, that’s not it!

  Panic welled in her mind, but she forced herself to take deep breaths. She had to be calm to remember.

  3-1-2…2-1-3-3….2-1-1-1-2. No, 1-2-3. Hope surged within her. 3-1-2-2-1-3-3-2-1-1-2-3. That’s it!

  She turned left but stopped. No, that can’t be right. But why? The fog filling her head made it so hard to think.

  That…that was the way in. She had used the sequence of numbers to find her way from the hidden entrance to the work room. To get out, she had to do it all in reverse.

  Damn it! She shook her head to clear the lingering effects of the smoke. After a moment of struggling, she corralled her thoughts enough to think clearly. Do it all in reverse, she repeated in her mind.

  She turned right and rushed down the corridor as fast as her unsteady legs allowed. She had to pause at the next intersection, but understanding came more quickly. After a few turns, she reached the first of the familiar rooms. She didn’t pause in her flight. The Secret Keepers had to be close on her heels.

  Elation surged in her chest at the sight of the gargantuan hanging skeletons. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to shout out in joy as she sprinted through the high-vaulted room. Just a few more minutes, and I’ll be out of here!

  Graeme’s code ran through her mind as she took the next two turns. Now she sprinted down the corridor where she’d find the hidden entrance. She stopped cold in horror.

  I never asked how to find the secret door.

  The tunnel stretched at least a hundred paces, every stone in the wall as nondescript and u
nremarkable as the rest.

  Think, damn it!

  She racked her brain. How many steps had she taken from the hidden entrance to the first intersection? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty?

  Had to be at least thirty. Maybe forty. She couldn’t remember!

  She glanced over her shoulders. The alarm bell hadn’t ceased its toll. At any moment, the Secret Keepers would come gliding around the corner and find her. She didn’t have time to waste searching for a hidden door but had no other way out.

  She shuffled down the corridor, counting each step. When she reached thirty, she ran her hand along the wall in search of any dip, crack, or malformation that would point to the hidden door. For ten heart-pounding steps, she found nothing.

  Then her questing fingers encountered an almost imperceptible scratch in the stone. She shone the light of the quickfire globes on the spot. Could it be? Either her mind played tricks, or that was the faintest remnant of a symbol—one that matched the symbols etched into the walls of the tunnels beneath Voramis. She had to try.

  She pressed on the symbol. Nothing happened. She pressed again. The stone remained unyielding. No, no, no! So close—she couldn’t fail now.

  She bent to examine the symbol and groaned as she saw a hair-thin crack just above it. The trigger.

  She pressed, and the stone wall slid aside. Without hesitation, she darted inside and pressed the trigger that shut the door. It seemed to close far too slowly. Ilanna half-expected the face of a Secret Keeper to appear at the opening at any second. Yet only blank stone met her eyes until the darkness of the unlit tunnels swallowed her.