Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2) Page 6

  When the Night Guild raided the illicit brothel, she’d entered through the window and caught a group of pimps by surprise before the Bloodbears brought down the front door. Blood soaked, a furious snarl twisting her lips, she’d hunted down every one of the flesh-peddlers. Only those who threw themselves on the Bloodbears’ mercy escaped her wrath.

  In their drug-induced stupor, the girls had stared at her with lifeless eyes and gaunt faces. Yet when the Bloodbears and Serpents came to cart them away, one girl threw her arms around Ilanna’s waist and refused to release her. The opiates and abuse hadn’t snuffed the fire in her eyes. Master Gold had promised he’d find a place for the victims but, in that moment, Ilanna had known she couldn’t let this dark-skinned girl be carted off with the others. She’d gambled that Kodyn’s presence would help the girl as he’d helped her. Thus, Ria had entered her life.

  That night had taught Ilanna a lesson: she could use others, else be used like those dull-eyed girls.

  Looks like I’ve got to make it up to Allon for last night.

  She felt no guilt for lashing out at him, but a man with wounded pride always proved harder to manipulate. She needed him compliant. He’d proven himself useful before—he’d been the one to verify her story, helped her persuade Master Hawk to bring down the Night Guild’s wrath on the brothel operating outside the Guild’s permission.

  His words from last night had set her on the path to exacting vengeance on the Duke. For what she had in mind, she’d need his help. Which meant she had to find a way to make amends, even if every word of her apology was a lie.

  Adrenaline surged within her at the thought of her plans for taking down Duke Phonnis. It was a gamble, and an undertaking that far surpassed her conquest of the Black Spire. But if she could pull it off, she would have everything she’d need to be free of the Night Guild.

  First, she had a date with a sword.

  * * *

  The clack of wooden practice blades echoed in the Aerie. Ilanna ducked beneath Errik’s slash and followed up with a thrust that he knocked aside. His waster slapped against her shoulder.

  “Dead.”

  Ilanna growled. “Damn it!” Her knuckles whitened on the grip of her sword. “How do you keep doing that? Reading my attacks before I even know what I’m doing.”

  Errik grounded the tip of his blade and leaned on it. “You can tell one type of padlock from another, or spot a fat purse in a mark’s cloak, right?” Ilanna nodded. “It’s what you do. Me, I watch people fight and learn how to kill them before they can kill me.” He rubbed the pencil moustache sprouting beneath his crooked nose. “Part of being a Serpent.”

  “You’d think after three years of this, I should be able to hit you at least once.”

  He shrugged. “You’re good, Ilanna. Damned good, for that matter. Better than most in the Guild.” He twirled the sword in strong hands. “But you’re no Serpent.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Still, I—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Being a killer isn’t easy. It’s not just about knowing how to wield a sword. It’s about being able to put it into someone even when you have no reason to want them dead.” He met her gaze and steel flashed in his eyes. “Be who you are.”

  Ilanna clenched her jaw but said nothing. She wouldn’t call Errik a friend, not like Denber, but he came close. He alone knew the secret of what had happened to Sabat. What she’d done to Sabat.

  “Again.” She raised her waster to the guard position Journeyman Ullard had taught her so many years ago.

  “You sure?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Your ribs are already going to be bloody sore tomorrow. I tried to pull that blow but—”

  She waved his words away. “Cost of learning, Errik. Besides, you hit like a Grubber.”

  “A Grubber, is it?” He mock-scowled at the insult. “Guess I’ll have to stop going easy on you.”

  She grinned. “I’d hope so. Unless you’re afraid I’ll take you down, Serpent.”

  With a grin, Errik attacked. He fought with grace, all lean, hard muscles and economic movements. House Serpent trained killers, not warriors or heroes. No fancy flourishes or courtly rules of fencing etiquette, only brutal, quick death.

  Twenty seconds later, Ilanna rubbed her stinging cheek and walked to pick up her sword. “You’ll have to teach me that disarming move sometime.”

  Errik folded his arms. “House secret. Can’t have just anyone learning all our tricks.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while.” She produced a pouch from her robes and tossed it to him. “Your saffron, as promised.”

  He opened the bag and sighed at the rich scent. “For a Hawk, you certainly know how to drive a bargain.” The leather pouch disappeared into a pocket. “Fair enough, but it’ll have to be next time. I’ve got places to be.”

  With a nod, she flipped the wooden waster and handed him the hilt. As he stepped closer, she dropped her voice. “If I need a Serpent for a job, would you be game?” The Aerie was empty, but she wouldn’t risk anyone overhearing her plans. Not yet.

  “What d’you need a Serpent for?”

  “You in?”

  He thought a moment and nodded.

  “Good. You’ll hear from me when I’m ready.”

  “So be it.” He stepped back, spoke in a louder voice. “Same time next week?”

  A smile teased her lips. “Only if you’re ready for your first defeat.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Optimistic, even after losing for three years straight. It’s what makes you a good student.” He patted his pocket. “And the perfect source for hard-to-procure goods.”

  The Aerie door boomed shut behind him, and Ilanna set off through the tunnels toward her rooms. As always, her eyes flashed down the corridor that led to the apprentices’ chambers. With Denber and Werrin gone, House Hawk grew ever smaller.

  She pushed Denber from her mind and focused on her myriad aches and pains. Despite his protests, Errik didn’t go easy on her. She’d come within a finger’s breadth of catching him on more than one occasion. He couldn’t afford to hold back, and her ribs, arms, legs, head, and chest bore the reminders of her mistakes.

  Closing the door to her chamber, she slipped off her sweat-soaked shirt with a groan and hurled it into her laundry pile. A quick bath, and she’d have time to—

  Ice froze in her veins and every muscle in her body grew rigid. A small fragment of parchment sat on her table. Beside it lay a viola, a single drop of crimson staining the yellow petals. She whirled and scanned the room, drawing a dagger from her bracer. Nothing leapt out at her; everything remained as she’d left it the previous night. There was nothing to indicate anyone else had entered the room.

  She dashed to the door and yanked it open. The hallway was empty. She ran a critical eye over the lock. No sign someone had picked or forced it. As always.

  Heart hammering, blood pulsing in her ears, Ilanna closed the door and stepped to the table. She reached for the folded paper with trembling hands, opened it.

  Alamastri manor, it read, in the neat, familiar handwriting.

  She jumped as someone pounded on her door. Crumpling the paper, she stuffed it into a pocket and whirled.

  “Ilanna?” Grillan, one of Bryden’s Hawks, stepped into the room. “Master Hawk sent me to—” The gaunt, wiry man stopped, wide-eyed.

  Ilanna made no attempt to hide her exposed chest. “What?” she snapped.

  Grillan swallowed and struggled to lift his gaze. “It’s nameday. We’re called to assemble in the Menagerie.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Grillan’s feet seemed as rooted to the floor as his eyes to her chest.

  “Is there something else, Grillan?” She took a step toward him and raised her arm.

  With one final glance, he fled a heartbeat before Ilanna’s dagger thunked into the wooden door where his head had been.

  Chapter Nine

  Keeper damn these stuffy cloaks! Ilanna took a deep breath and fought back the urge to rip of
f the ceremonial Guild robes. As if the air of the Menagerie wasn’t bad enough. She shifted, trying to open some space. The touch of the men around her sent a shiver down her spine.

  Hundreds of Journeymen and apprentices filled the cavernous underground chamber. They stood still and silent, an eerie assembly of hooded faces surrounding a torchlit clearing at the heart of the room. The banners of the seven Houses provided the only color amidst the dull earthen walls and black robes of the Night Guild.

  At the front, Master Gold and the House Masters sat upon ornate chairs. At a gesture from the Guild Master, a figure slipped down an adjoining tunnel. The tyros had been summoned.

  Even after fifteen years, nervous tension coiled in Ilanna’s stomach. She’d stood before the Night Guild for judgment, undergone the tests of the tyros and almost failed. The memory of the night Master Hawk had chosen her set her heart thudding.

  She clenched her jaw as the first tyro shuffled from the tunnel. The boy’s hair hung lank, his face pale, cheeks sunken. His eyelids drooped, exhaustion showing clearly. He didn’t lift his gaze when he took his place before the House Masters.

  Master Velvet walked beside him. His hair had turned to grey, his jowls hung lower, and a grizzled beard flowed down to his shabby namesake waistcoat. He moved more slowly, a hunch in his right shoulder.

  Hard to believe the old bastard’s still alive.

  Her eyes returned to the child. Eight years old and barely more than a walking corpse. That was me once.

  A sour taste filled Ilanna’s mouth. Since Kodyn, she’d come to hate nameday. She saw her son in those fatigue-clouded eyes and cheeks hollowed by malnutrition. She wouldn’t let him suffer the same fate as these children.

  Master Gold stood and spoke, but Ilanna couldn’t keep her mind on the ritual words he repeated every nameday. She fingered the parchment stuffed into her pocket.

  Alamastri manor, it said. Why in the bloody hell do they want me to go there? I thought they were under the Crown’s protection.

  The first note had come after she killed Sabat. It had threatened to expose her secret, subject her to Guild law. “What would you do to keep the truth buried?” it read.

  The second note appeared more than a year later. Its instructions were simple: “Your mark is Lord Erriell. Tell no one.” She’d refused. For days, she hid in her room to catch whoever left the notes. She waited in vain. No retribution came. Hours later, when she returned to her chambers, she discovered a note that read, “Let this be a lesson.” Beside it lay a blood-spattered viola and the dagger used to kill Sabat. The dagger she’d buried with Sabat’s body, then hurled into the river after it appeared in her room beside the first note.

  The notes had appeared five more times since that day, each time singling out a new mark for her to visit. No one claimed ownership or requested proof of obedience. They didn’t need to. She’d carried out the thefts without hesitation.

  She believed she recognized the handwriting but would remain silent until she knew for certain.

  The “how” of the notes still sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She had no idea how the messenger entered her room. The lock she’d installed last month engaged automatically when she closed the door. The only key hung around her neck and even she had trouble picking the eight-pin fixture.

  She crumpled the note in her fist. If someone can get into my room, it means they’re watching for when I’m out. Icy feet danced down her back. Does that mean they’re watching me outside the Guild, too? Do they know where I go?

  The walls of the Menagerie pressed in around her. If her movements were watched, she couldn’t risk anyone discovering Kodyn. She had to stay away for her child’s safety. She couldn’t go back until she discovered the source of the notes.

  Her eyes focused on the emaciated child standing before the House Masters. Starved, beaten, worked to exhaustion, tormented by Master Velvet and the other tyros. So weak, helpless, just as she’d been all those years ago.

  If the Night Guild learned of Kodyn’s existence, she had no doubt they’d ensure he followed in her footsteps on his eighth nameday. Kodyn wouldn’t be the first child forced to join. Many of the younger Journeymen and apprentices had followed their fathers and mothers into the Guild. Compliant or not.

  Master Gold’s words drew her back to the present. “Give praise to the Watcher that you have been chosen. From this day on, you are no longer tyros. You are now apprentices to the Night Guild.”

  The House Masters rose and gathered their apprentices. Before they could leave, Master Gold raised his hands.

  “Let them stay.” His clean-shaven face bore a somber, sorrowful expression. “It is never too early to learn the rule of law.”

  He turned to the assembled Guild members. “My brothers and sisters, Journeymen, apprentices of the Night Guild. I come to you in the name of the Watcher in the Dark, god of justice and vengeance.”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, he strode around the torch-ringed clearing where the tyros had stood a moment earlier.

  “Though the world outside these walls sees us as criminals, we know the truth. We are a brotherhood, striving toward a common goal. And what is that goal?” He whirled on the crowd, eyes alight. “Profit, the great pursuit that drives every man and woman. It is through profit that we obtain power, and through power we bring peace.”

  He thrust a finger at Master Hound. “Master Hound, your Journeymen are charged with bringing to justice the law-breakers and criminals who flee the Praamian Guard, are they not?”

  The House Master nodded. “They are.”

  “And how many have you delivered to the King’s justice? Hundreds? Thousands.”

  Master Hound shrugged and inclined his head.

  “And you, Master Fox.” Master Gold strode toward a heavy-set man with a walrus moustache. “Do your brothers and sisters not relieve the wealthy of their excess and share it among those with greater need?”

  Master Fox pounded a fist on the arm of his chair. “That they do!”

  Ilanna stifled a snort. How altruistic.

  Master Gold returned his attention to the crowd. “We are all governed by the laws of the Night Guild, written out by the Journeymen and Masters who came before us. And we are sworn to uphold those laws, are we not?”

  As one, the Night Guild bellowed, “We are!”

  Master Gold’s face hardened. “As we are generous in our rewards of those who obey, so too must we be harsh when meting out justice to those who break our laws.”

  He snapped his fingers. Two Journeymen in the crimson robes of House Bloodbear dragged a third man between them. Mud spattered his orange-trimmed clothing and a mass of bruises covered his face. Blood caked his nose and split lips. When the Bloodbears released him, he slumped to the hard-packed earth.

  Master Gold halted before the man. “Journeyman Adarus of House Fox, you stand accused of larceny and murder.”

  Ilanna’s shoulders tightened at the pronouncement. Around her, the crowd muttered and shifted.

  At Master Gold’s nod, the Bloodbears pulled the Fox Journeyman to his feet. “These are serious accusations, Adarus. What have you to say in your defense?”

  Adarus, a small man with a skull-like face and teeth darker than the mud staining his clothing, said nothing.

  “The Night Guild does not mete out punishment without proof. Who can provide evidence of this man’s innocence or guilt?”

  “I can.” A Journeyman in the orange-trimmed robes of House Fox strode into the clearing.

  “Journeyman Isseck, what testimony do you bring?”

  Isseck opened the leather-bound ledger of House Fox. “I bring the records of my House, which prove beyond doubt that Adarus embezzled the sum of five hundred imperials from the coffers of the Night Guild.”

  Master Gold beckoned and a wiry, bespectacled man rushed from the crowd. This man wore the gold-trimmed robes proclaiming him the Guild Master’s personal aide. He carried on a whispered conversation with Isseck as they stu
died the ledger. After a few minutes, he turned to Master Gold. “He speaks the truth. The ledger shows the sum of five hundred imperials missing.”

  “Thank you, Journeyman Entar.” He motioned to Isseck. “And what proof have you that it was Adarus who absconded with those funds?”

  “I am the proof.” Another Fox stepped forward. “I witnessed Adarus steal into House Fox’s strongroom. The next day, Journeyman Isseck reported the missing funds.” He pointed to the crowd. “Two of my fellow Journeymen saw the same.”

  Master Gold turned to Adarus. “As is your right, you may dispute the claims brought forth by your fellow Foxes. Is that your wish? Do you doubt the proof brought forth?”

  Adarus shook his head.

  “What say you, Masters of the Night Guild? Do you find Adarus guilty or innocent?”

  As one, the seven House Masters spoke. “Guilty.”

  “The Masters have spoken.” Master Gold bowed to the seated men. “To the charges of murder, who brings proof of Adarus’ guilt?”

  Ilanna recognized the man who stepped forward. Garrill had helped her break into the Black Spire.

  Master Gold folded his arms over his chest. “What evidence do you bring?”

  “My testimony and word as a Journeyman of House Hound.” Garrill stood straight, head held high. “When Journeyman Isseck reported the theft to Master Fox, it was discovered that Adarus had fled the Night Guild. After three days of searching, the Foxes failed to locate their missing comrade. They contracted House Hound to bring him to justice. I was sent after Adarus, along with Journeyman Sular.”

  Garrill pushed aside his long, dark hair to reveal two black eyes. “We caught up to Adarus on the Windy Plains, a day’s ride from Voramis. When we attempted to reason with him, he attacked us and killed Sular.” He gestured, and an apprentice wearing the white robes of House Hound rushed toward him. He took the cloak from the youth and held it up. A crimson stain spread from the hole in the robe’s breast.

  “Do you have the dagger?”

  Garrill nodded and produced the blade, still covered in blood.

  “And you alone were witness to the murder?”