“Oh.” Lynnael put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “You know you can always talk to me about it, Gwennie.”
“Thanks, Lyn,” Gwen said, squeezing Lynnael’s hand. “But there’s not much to tell; as usual, I don’t remember much, just fragments, colors, smells. None of it really makes sense.”
Lynnael nodded, biting her lip. “I… Maybe it’s time to let go, Gwen,” she said, struggling to get the words out. “For both of us. Maybe we should let go of the people we once were—me with my silly stories about the Empire of Sand, as if I’ll ever travel back there again now my mother’s gone, as if it wouldn’t feel completely different without her there. And you with those nightmares haunting you, reminding you of the person you can never be again.”
Gwen frowned at her friend. “You sound like a wise old wizard.” She tried to joke, but her voice fell flat.
“I’m serious,” Lynnael said, letting go of Gwen’s shoulder, and walked toward the chest in the corner to grab some clothes. The room was cramped: with two beds, a nightstand, a small dresser with the washing bowl on, and a chest containing their clothes, it was filled to the brim. Still, compared to other rooms some of their fellow Thieves occupied, their home was almost a castle.
“The people we think about, no longer exist,” the half-Elf continued while she rummaged through the chest. “Or if they do, certainly no longer in this world. What’s the point in dwelling on the past?”
Gwen contemplated her friend’s words. “You have a point.”
“Of course I do. Aha!” Lynnael stood up straight, holding a blue dress in front of her. “I knew this one was still clean. Anyway, since you woke me up on this ungodly hour, I propose you buy me some breakfast.”
“Fair enough,” Gwen said while she reached for the leather trousers she had dumped on the chair in the corner of the room haphazardly yesterday evening. “But don’t forget we’re supposed to meet Shej at seven.”
Lynnael stepped into the dress, pulling it up above her waist, and rolled her eyes. “How could I ever forget—you’ve only reminded me half a dozen times since yesterday.”
A blush crept on Gwen’s cheeks, which she quickly hid by pulling a leather jacket over her head.
Lynnael didn’t notice or was too occupied tying the laces on the corset that came with the dress to pay much attention. Thank the Gods, because if Lynnael ever noticed that the mention of Shej’s name was enough to make Gwen blush like a bride on her wedding day, then the half-Elf would tease her mercilessly.
By the time Gwenlian and Lynnael reached the center of Yargon, an amalgam of tiny markets connected through small, claustrophic cobblestone-streets, the sun was already rising in the East.
The two thieves sauntered through the city’s squares, towards the temple of Alyada, the Goddess of Wisdom. As usual, the temple square was crowded with merchants trying to sell their wares, customers eager to buy, beggars looking for generous high-bred ladies and gentlemen to stroll by, and thieves looking for some coin.
“Everyone is up early today,” Lynnael noticed while she took a bite from an apple she had stolen from a fruit merchant’s stall five minutes ago. The half-Elf’s fingers were as quick as her wits.
“Or we’re running late because you decided having breakfast meant eating a three-course meal,” Gwen teased her friend.
“My appetite is as legendary as my beauty,” Lynnael said while she took another bite from the apple.
“You wish.” Gwen looked up at the temple of Alyada at the other side of the square, a large, white building flanked by four columns several meters high. Next to it stood a much smaller temple, hidden in the shadows of Alyada’s shrine—the temple of Erynda, Goddess of Thieves.
The roof of Erynda’s temple was only supported by two columns, and it was only half as tall as the temple of her older sister, but for thieves, the temple offered a safe haven. Any thief who made it inside the temple, was safe from prosecution—at least, until he or she exited again.
Lynnael tossed the apple’s core away, wiping her hands on her dress. “May Erynda be on our side today,” she said with a nod toward our patroness’ temple.
Lyn said those exact same words practically every day, but this time, Gwen shivered at her friend’s words.
A bad omen. Gwen wrapped her arms around herself instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” Lynnael asked.
“I’m just cold,” Gwen said while she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s one of the warmest mornings we’ve had in ages, and you’re cold.” Lynnael raised an eyebrow. “If you’re getting sick, go fetch a healer, please, because I’m not in the mood to spend the next weeks coped up in bed.”
“You didn’t seem to mind last time when I had to read you bedtime stories and feed you hot chicken soup,” Gwen shot back, smiling at the memory. Lynnael hated getting sick, and when she was, she nagged about it from start to end, but at the same time, she enjoyed getting pampered.
Sunlight burst through the clouds above their heads, and the warmth vanquished the unnatural cold that had shaken Gwen seconds ago.
Nothing to worry about, she told herself. Since when do you believe in bad omens?
Gwenlian wasn’t very superstitious, not like Lynnael. She didn’t ask Erynda’s blessing every time she went out stealing, she didn’t put a lucky gem in her pocket like the half-Elf did, and she certainly didn’t believe that black cats were harbingers of doom, but she did believe in her own intuition, her own sixth sense.
The same sense that had warned her on that fateful day, the day that still tormented her nightmares…
“No matter how many times I see it,” Lynnael interrupted Gwen’s thoughts, “I’m still impressed.”
Obviously, she was talking about Mermydion Hall, the gargantuan domed market place that loomed in front of them, easily three or four times the size of Alyanda’s Square they had just crossed.
Mermydion Hall, named after the first High King of the Seven Kingdoms, Mermydion the First, housed dozens of permanent shops inside. On the outside, it was a spectacle of pillars with gargoyle wardens positioned on them, stained glass windows and of course, the number one eyecatcher: an enormous statue of High King Mermydion himself, positioned right in front of the entrance.
The High King was wearing a long coat running to the floor. A gemstone-encrusted sword hung on his belt, and he had one hand on his hip, a confident gesture, whereas his other hand was shielding his eyes from sunlight, so he could gaze ahead, at the horizon. The conqueror-king, the first monarch capable of uniting all Seven Kingdoms under one common banner. Always looking ahead for something new to explore, something new to conquer.
In a way, it was slightly ironic that Yargon, the one city in the Seven Kingdoms that had since the rule of Mermydion spent decades distancing themselves from the influence of the High King and his heirs, the one city that had wrestled control from its monarch and had become more or less self-governed, ruled by the Guilds, was also the very place where Mermydion had built a monument in his honor.
In all other cities, the monument would’ve become a shrine to the first High King. In Yargon, it had become a domed marketplace.
Gwen enjoyed spending time inside Mermydion Hall. The endless lines of shops, practically built on top of each other, and the constant buzz of shopkeepers shouting at potential buyers, made her feel right at home. Additionally, the building was a haven for thieves: the labyrinthine makeshift roads between the shops allowed for myriad hiding places for any thief caught in the act.
The chance of guards catching runaway thieves here were zero to none. Gwen and her band of thieves had operated in Mermydion Hall at least a dozen times before, and she had never felt nervous about it, but today, a small armada of butterflies was swirling in her stomach.
“Smile, Gwennie,” Lynnael said while she poked her friend in the ribs. “You’re about to see your boyfriend again.”
The way Lynnael emphasized the word boyfriend made
Gwen’s cheeks turn hot. So, her best friend had noticed that lately she had been talking about Shej more than usual.
Gwen didn’t really know when exactly that had started, when her sentiments for Shej had morphed into something beyond friendship, and the very thought of him conjured the same butterflies that were now swarming in her stomach—except this time her nerves didn’t entirely stem from the prospect of seeing Shej again.
As Gwen and Lynnael turned into one of the darkest alleys of Mermydion Hall, the man in question materialized from the shadows.
Shej had dirty blonde hair that fell over his forehead, covering his piercing blue eyes. He had a straight jaw, a five o’clock shadow, and a tiny scar underneath his left eye. Over the years, he had dated more girls than you could count on both hands, all of them drawn to him over his looks and easygoing charm.
Shej shot Gwenlian and Lynnael a crooked smile. “Finally. I’ve only been waiting here for the past half hour.”
“Lynnael needed to get breakfast first,” Gwen replied.
“Hey. You can’t expect me to starve while working on a job,” Lynnael said while rubbing her belly. “Anyway, you want to get started?” she nodded at Shej, waiting for his response.
“Before we do, I think it’s only fair to warn you.” Shej gestured for the girls to come closer. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Brutus paid me a visit this morning.”
Gwen flinched and Lynnael said, “By the Gods, no.”
Shej nodded. “He had a message from The Righteous Hand himself.”
Brutus was a brutish bore of a man, whose face closely resembled that of a pig, and who had zero brains hidden underneath his skull. He possessed a lot of brute strength, though, which had helped him climb the ranks in the Thieves’ Guild, until he became one of the most trusted commanders of The Righteous Hand, the leader of the Thieves’ Guild. The brute also liked to bully the younger members of the Thieves’ Guild, preferring to pick on them rather than targeting someone his own size.
Gwen didn’t like Brutus at all. Even just thinking about him, made her skin crawl, but if he had a message from The Righteous Hand, none of them were in a position to ignore it.
“Brutus has the mental capacity of a fungus,” Lynnael said.
“Still, if he had a message from The Righteous Hand, then I want to hear what it is,” Gwen countered.
“The Righteous Hand received information that Governor Everhart expects some trouble today during the performance of the Wildwood Theater, and that he has tripled the guards present.” Shej’s features morphed into a wry smile, and he scratched his head.
“Gods.” Lynnael threw her hands in the air. “That spoils our plans big time. We can’t go through with this now.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Shej said. “We planned this well in advance. Even if there are more guards, that doesn’t mean we can’t get away with it, as long as we stick to the plan.”
“We should have expected Governor Everhart would triple security.” Gwen crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, next to Shej. Her heart beat at a million miles an hour, and not because of his presence. The news from The Righteous Hand confirmed the sickening feeling she had suffered through all morning, the dreadful sense of foreboding that something was about to go wrong.
“Everhart is many things, but not a fool,” Lynnael agreed. The Governor of Yargon was a cold, cruel, calculating man who would rather let a beggar starve than give him some food. He ruled the city of Yargon by keeping a close eye on the Guilds and their leaders. “If he heard through the grapevine of what we have planned, or even had the slightest suspicion, then of course he would triple the guards.”
“It only means we’ll have to be more careful,” Shej said. “We’ve operated under the peering eyes of the city guards countless times before.”
“True.” Lynnael nodded at both of them. “My vote is that we go through with it. Screw those guards, screw Everhart. We prepped for this.”
“I agree,” Gwen said. “We only get this opportunity once.”
“Okay.” Shej moved away from the wall and put his arms over Gwenlian and Lynnael’s shoulders. “Looks like the show will go on after all, ladies.”
Lynnael looked at Gwen and winked. “Let the games begin.”
Chapter 2
A crowd of at least several dozens, if not a hundred onlookers had gathered in the square in the middle of Mermydion Halls, staring at the actors of the Wildwood Theater as they gathered on the stage to perform their current play: The Fall of the Gods.
“At the dawn of this world, when the earth was young,” one of the actors, an attractive man in his early twenties with brown, short hair and brown doe’s eyes said, as he tiptoed from one end of the stage to the other, armed with a harp he toggled on every now and then, “there were Seven Higher Gods and Goddesses.”
Gwen knew the story of the Fall of the Gods like the back of her hand, but she still enjoyed listening to it, and the actor did a good job, speaking loud and clear.
“The Gods were neither the first, nor the last creatures on this planet,” the actor continued. “Some of them ruled fairly and just, such as Eyon, God of Light. But others, like Dementia, the Goddess of Darkness, cast fear in the hearts of men—even those men who chose to follow them.”
The actor representing Eyon came on stage, wearing a golden robe that flowed to the floor. After him came an actress playing Dementia, wearing a black gown while snakes sprouted from her head. Some of the people in the crowd gasped at the sight of her.
Gwenlian focused on the woman standing in front of her. She wore an expensive-looking light green gown, her hair was wrapped in a complicated up-do, and the belt hanging around her waist was decorated with gems. Most importantly, though, she had a full purse hanging on that belt, and she seemed completely engrossed in the play.
Theaters were excellent places for thieves to fool unsuspecting onlookers and steal their coin, which was why Shej had started planning their little expedition of today for the last month, ever since he heard the Wildwood Theater would perform at Mermydion Hall.
Gwen glanced at Shej, who was mingling with the crowd on the left side of the stage. She then scanned for Lynnael, who was keeping to the right side of the stage.
The place was buzzing with guards, just like Brutus had warned Shej about this morning. Gwen counted at least thirteen of them from her spot, their red uniforms and capes easily giving them away, and the golden heart symbol on their capes showing they worked for Governor Everhart.
“Dementia ruled over The Endless Storm and The Prison of Ki’Rah,” the actor who acted as storyteller said. “A thousand years passed, and then Dementia gave birth to her twin children, the first of the Lesser Gods.”
Lesser Gods, like Alyada, the Godess of Wisdom and Erynda, the Goddess of Thieves, and a whole Parthenon of them, children of the Higher Gods who had long ago left this existence for a better one.
Gwen moved closer toward the woman, her hand lingering above the woman’s coin-filled pouch. She glanced in the direction of the guards; they all seemed too occupied with the play, or with looking in any direction but hers to notice.
The thief closed her hand around the pouch and yanked it from the woman’s belt. As quick as a shadow, she moved away, on to another unsuspecting victim. Just as Gwen was about to hide the pouch on the inside of her jacket, someone grabbed her wrist mid-movement.
She stared at her attacker, a clean-shaven, dark-haired, handsome man whose presence made Gwen’s breath choke in her throat.
The Captain of the Guard. She recognized him right away, having seen him around—and escaping from his clutches—on more than one occasion.
How could she not have seen him before she robbed that woman?
“Looks like we’ve got a thief here.” The Captain yanked her closer, his grip on her wrist so tight she was forced to drop the pouch into his open hand. “Caught in the middle of the crime.”
&n
bsp; “That’s my money,” Gwen said through gritted teeth. “I was just putting it away.”
“I saw you snap this pouch right off that woman’s belt.” The Captain nodded in the direction of the woman she had just robbed. “No use in denying it, thief.”
Gwen’s cheeks turned red as she felt all eyes on her. The actors had stopped their play at the commotion in the crowd, and everyone had turned to stare at her interaction with the Captain of the Guard.
Anxiously, she glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Shej or Lynnael. She saw Lynnael’s light-blonde hair disappear into the crowd.
“Come on,” the Captain said, pulling her along roughly, toward the woman with the light green dress from whom she had stolen the purse. “Hand this woman her property back.”
The woman scrunched up her nose, staring at Gwen as if she wasn’t worth the dirt underneath her feet. The woman held open her hand expectantly.
Gwen dropped the bag in the woman’s open palm, giving her a cold look.
“Let’s go.” The Captain grabbed Gwen’s shoulders and pulled her backward. The sudden movement caused the fabric of Gwen’s blouse to travel up her arms, revealing the scales disfiguring her arms.
Gwenlian shrugged her shoulder, and the fabric fell down, covering up the scales again. But the damage was done: the woman blinked slowly, gazing from Gwen’s arm to her face, surprise written all over her face.
Gwen’s nerves practically exploded in her stomach. She turned toward the Captain, desperate to pull the attention away from the scales that marked her inhuman and which, thankfully, the Captain hadn’t noticed yet. “Where are you taking me?” She yelled at him.
“The Governor will decide what to do with you,” the Captain said. “But I hope you’re not too attached to your hands, thief.”
Cutting off someone’s hand—in worst case scenario, both hands—was the common punishment for thieves. Knowing she had already received a pardon once, albeit many years ago, Gwen knew the Governor would not show her mercy twice. This time, if she didn’t escape before the Captain dragged her in front of the Governor, she would lose a limb.
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