Mel nodded her understanding.
“Perhaps we were foolish to ignore them for so long,” she mused. “But who could know that magical energy would return to the world one day?”
“We should have known,” Hallic said irritably. “The guild prides itself on staying one step ahead of our enemies. It's one of the main reasons that we've managed to exist and prosper for so long. But now we find ourselves trying to keep up. It's a new feeling and I for one do not like it.”
“Then we adapt,” Mel stated. “As we always have. We learn all that we can about this power and we turn it to our advantage.”
Hallic sheathed his dagger and smiled at his daughter.
“Just like that?” he asked.
“Just like that,” Mel replied with a nod. “Maybe while we wait for our network to find Corbin, we can do some research. Speak to those who know how magic works. Do our homework.”
Hallic stood up suddenly, moving with fluid grace.
“That is actually an excellent idea,” he exclaimed. “And I think I know just the person to ask.”
He walked to the door and opened it.
“You know a magic-user?” Mel teased him. “Really, Father? Oh dear, the company you keep. Think how scandalized other members of the guild would be if they heard about it.”
“Let them think what they like,” Hallic said disdainfully. “We cannot remain set in our ways. That would be suicidal. We must change with the times and if that means consorting with mages, then so be it.”
As he stepped out of the room, the rogue looked over his shoulder at his daughter.
“Stay here, please. I may be gone for a day or two. If any information comes in about the prince's whereabouts, send a runner to wait at the usual spot. I'll check there regularly, just in case.”
“As you wish, Father,” Mel told him. “Good luck. And watch your back.”
Hallic grinned at her.
“I always do. Just be sure to take your own advice. It may only be a feeling, but something is coming. Something dark. Watch the shadows.”
He winked at her and closed the door behind him as he left.
Mel sat still, frowning at the door.
“Watch the shadows?” she murmured. “That's what our enemies normally have to do. What are you worried about, Father? What's really going on?”
Chapter 5
Mel Barston had grown up in the rogues guild, just as her father had before her. They could trace their lineage back for many centuries, each generation associated with the guild in some way.
Not all of them had been rogues, of course. It took natural talent, a certain ruthlessness and a willingness for an initiate to risk their lives on a regular basis to become a full member of the guild. However, those ancestors had still worked on the periphery of the organization, as informants or suppliers of goods and services. All of them, for many generations, had been involved with the rogues guild.
When she had been accepted as a full member, it had been the proudest moment of Mel's life. She remembered her father's advice at the time, and it had stuck with her ever since.
“Never give up your core values,” Hallic had told her. “We are rogues, yes, and we operate below the surface of dwarven society, but we are not assassins. When we take a life, it is for a specific purpose; not out of cruelty, vengeance or arrogance.”
“I understand, Father,” Mel had replied.
“Do you? Then understand this, my daughter. I have hunted down and killed other rogues for violating our tenets. They are strictly enforced and absolute, and not even my own flesh and blood may break them.”
Mel remembered Hallic's face at the time. She had never seen him looking more grim or resolute and she had wondered whether what he had said had been an implicit threat. She had never dared to ask.
But that had been many years ago. Now she was a senior member of the guild, often charged with training her own initiates. She worked them hard, taught them well, and gave them the same warning that her father had given her. So far, none of them had disappointed her.
It was one of these former students who knocked on her door the day after Hallic had left in search of information about magic and its users.
Mel opened her door and smiled as she saw an old initiate standing there.
“Hello Ethen,” she said warmly. “It's been a long time. I thought that the guildmaster assigned you to the Cindercore chapter last year?”
“Good day, Master,” Ethen replied, his short brown beard bristling as he grinned. “He did, but I've been sent by the head of the Cindercore guild with a message for Darlhein. She wanted it delivered into his hands personally, and I happily volunteered.”
“Just call me Mel,” she replied with a chuckle. “You're a full member of the guild now, not my student. And you are my friend.”
“Sorry. Old habits are hard to break, I suppose,” he told her.
Mel waved him inside and shut the door behind him.
Unlike most of the other guild members' quarters, Mel's main room wasn't a sitting room. It was very similar to the guildmaster's office, with shelving covering most of the walls. But only half of the shelves were filled with books and scrolls. The others held dozens of little statues, many of them created to look like animals and birds that most dwarves had only ever heard of in stories.
There were also several fine weapons: swords, daggers and small shivs. Plus a few mysterious objects that had been invented by Mel herself. What they did was anyone's guess, but all of them looked dangerous.
A large workbench was set against one wall, which is where Mel worked on her own private projects.
Ethen walked into the room and had a seat on a long, leather-bound sofa. He looked around the room curiously, quickly spotting the strange objects.
“You've been making some new toys?” he asked Mel as she sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
She looked over at the instrument that he was staring at.
“Idle hands are wasteful hands, so my father always told me,” she replied. “So when I have some free time, I tinker a bit. It helps to keep me focused. Anyway, they're not important. What brings you to my door today?”
Ethen nervously shifted in place, his smile quickly fading. The rogue had very bright, green eyes and they began scanning the room as if he was reluctant to meet Mel's gaze.
She watched him closely and, after a long silence, loudly cleared her throat.
Ethen jumped slightly and finally looked directly at her.
“You've never been nervous around me,” Mel told him. “Even when you were a new initiate. What's wrong, my friend? What's going on?”
The young rogue hesitated and then reached into an inside pocket of his leather tunic and pulled out a crumpled piece of vellum. He handed it to Mel and sat back.
“What's this?” she asked without looking at the note.
“My death, if it gets out that I gave it to you,” Ethen told her quietly. “It's a copy of the message that I passed along to Darlheim. We both know that such missives are not meant for prying eyes, and the head of the Cindercore guild would kill me herself if she learned that I had made a copy of it.”
Mel's eyes widened.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “Reading a letter meant for the guildmaster and given to you in confidence? You're right, you could die for this! What was so damned important that you'd risk that?”
Now that he had given the note to Mel, Ethen looked relieved and seemed more at peace with himself. He managed to smile weakly at her.
“It wasn't just a whim, I assure you,” he said. “There's something going on inside of the guild, Mel. Something rippling beneath the surface that I don't like. And I saw the same unease that I am feeling in Annia's face when she entrusted me with this message. Annia is the head of the Cindercore guild,” he added.
“I know who she is,” Mel snapped.
“Oh right. So I broke our rules and read it, made a copy and resealed it again. Apparently I did a good
job, because Darlheim examined the seal closely and then accepted her missive without question.”
“And what does it say?”
“Read it for yourself,” Ethen urged her. “Even here, I won't assume that someone isn't listening to us.”
Mel began to speak, caught herself and then nodded silently. She opened the crumpled note and began to read.
Ethen watched her as she scanned through the note. When she was finished and looked back at him, Mel's face had lost all of its color.
“We've been infiltrated?” she whispered. “Us? Ethen, we are the ones who infiltrate other organizations, not vice-versa. Is Annia certain of this?”
He shrugged.
“I have no idea. I only know what I read in her letter, just like you do. But Annia is very wise and experienced. She was appointed by Darlheim himself, so that should tell you something. If she's worried about this, there has to be a very good reason.”
“Yes, you're probably right,” Mel replied reluctantly. “The guildmaster wouldn't have made her the head of the Cindercore guild unless she was qualified. Damn. I wonder if this is what my father was warning me about.”
“Hallic thinks something is going on too?” Ethen asked in surprise.
“He didn't say so directly,” she told him. “But he is definitely uneasy about something and this could be a part of it.”
Mel stood up and crossed the room. She opened the drawer of the metal workbench and pulled out a small cylinder. When she flipped open the top of it, a small blue flame popped up and she lit one corner of the vellum note.
As it burned, she glanced at Ethen who nodded in relief.
“Thank you,” he told her.
“Don't thank me,” she replied irritably. “Walking around with this note was incredibly stupid. I taught you better than that. Always memorize such things and never, ever get caught with incriminating evidence.”
“Sorry about that. I'll do better in the future.”
Ashes drifted to the floor as the note was destroyed and Mel put the lighter back into the drawer.
“You'd better, if you want to continue to live. By the way, you can relax. We aren't being spied upon. I've soundproofed my quarters without anyone else's knowledge.”
She walked back to the couch and sat down again.
“Seriously?” Ethen asked with surprised admiration. “That's brilliant, Mel. What about listening devices?”
“Dampeners,” she told him. “Built into every wall. If anyone was trying to snoop on me using technology, all they would hear would be a high-pitched shriek. Very irritating.”
Ethen laughed and Mel grinned slyly.
“Nice way to tell spies that you're on to them,” he said.
“I know. Now look,” she said more seriously, “You have to be careful while you're here, Ethen. The evidence may be gone, but there is no way to know if anyone suspects that you know more than you should. If Annia is correct and we've been compromised, your life could be in danger.”
He looked startled by Mel's warning.
“Do you think that my visiting you might make someone suspicious?”
“I don't, no. I am your former teacher, after all. It would be natural for you to stop by to say hello while you're in town. But we should keep this visit short, just in case it raises red flags with someone. Did the guildmaster say that he wanted you to take a message back to Annia when you leave?”
“No, he did not,” Ethen replied with a shake of his head. “Darlheim told me that I could spend a few days in Kingstone if I wished, before heading back, but that it was my choice.”
“Then I would recommend that you leave as soon as possible. Get some rest and head back tomorrow morning.”
At her former student's look of disappointment, Mel smiled sympathetically.
“I'm sorry, Ethen, but I'm thinking about your safety. If you act like just another messenger, you'll attract less attention from our enemies. Assuming, of course, that Annia is right. She might be mistaken, you know.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Mel looked across the room at the scattered ashes lying on the floor in front of the workbench. She sighed and scratched the back of her head.
“No, I don't. But that doesn't mean that I'm right. Let's just assume the worst and plan accordingly. Where are you going to be staying?”
“My friend Joshen is going to put me up for the night,” Ethen told her. “I dropped my pack off in his quarters before I visited the guildmaster.”
“Ah, Joshen. I'd forgotten that you two were close. Good. I'm glad that you are staying with someone you trust. When you leave here, go there directly and stay with him until tomorrow. Then head back to Cindercore. There should be transportation of some sort heading in that direction first thing in the morning.”
“There is. I've already checked, just in case I needed to make a hasty retreat. A trading caravan is going south. One of the many stops along their journey will be at Cindercore. I'm sure that they'll be able to find space for me if I slip the leader a few coins.”
Mel stood up and Ethen jumped to his feet as well. She walked to the door, turned and extended her hand.
“I thank you, my friend,” she said to him. “Your loyalty to the guild is admirable. Once you are safely away from Kingstone, I'll begin some discreet inquiries of my own and see if I can get to the bottom of all of this. And when my father returns, I'll ask him for his assistance as well. Between the two of us, we'll root out the traitors. If there are any,” she added darkly.
Ethen shook her hand.
“Thank you, Mel,” he said gratefully. “If I hear anything else back in Cindercore, I'll try to pass it along to you.”
“More discreetly next time,” she warned him with a grin.
“Definitely.”
When Ethen was gone, Mel closed and locked her door and returned to the couch. She sat down and frowned in thought.
Her old student was no fool. If he thought that the fears of the Cindercore guild leader were baseless, he wouldn't have brought her the information that he had. No, there was definitely something going on just below the surface in the guild.
“But what?” she murmured.
Was it connected somehow to the traitorous prince? No, that couldn't be possible. Could it?
She sprang up and began pacing around the room blindly. She was too restless to sit still while the urge to do something was gnawing at her. The problem was that, if she went out and began poking around and asking questions, she might put Ethen in danger. She had to wait until he was safely away from the city before she began her own investigations.
But even though she was practiced in the art of patience, as were all rogues, the thought that the guild was threatened made her anxious, and so she paced around her quarters unable to focus on other tasks.
A sudden banging on her door made Mel spin around and draw a dagger. She glared at it suspiciously for a moment before putting away her weapon.
She took a minute to calm herself and then crossed the room to open the door. Standing outside was one of the many runners who carried messages around the guild. It was policy that important communications between members be delivered by these young trainees rather than broadcast using the wireless network that the regular population used to speak with each other. It made it less likely that such messages would be intercepted.
“Forgive me for interrupting you, Master,” the dwarf said nervously.
She was very young and wore a bright blue band around her left arm showing that she was on messenger duty. She was panting and her smooth face was flushed.
“You aren't interrupting me,” Mel replied kindly. “What can I do for you?”
“The guildmaster wants to see you,” the runner said breathlessly. “He wanted me to stress that it was very important and that I should, err, encourage you to make haste to meet him in his quarters at your earliest convenience.”
Mel had to smile at the diplomatic language of the young woman.
> “He wants me to move my ass, is that it?” she asked.
The runner's face became even more flushed.
“Um, he did not say that in so many words, Master, but yes, I believe that that is the implied message.”
“Very well. I'll head down directly,” Mel assured her. “Thank you.”
The messenger nodded politely. She looked relieved.
“It was my pleasure, Master,” she said. “Please excuse me for rushing away, but I have several other messages that I must deliver.”
“Off you go then,” Mel told her. “And try to pace yourself,” she added. “It will do you no good to reach your destination and not be able to speak when you get there.”
The runner smiled brightly.
“Thank you, Master. I will try.”
And then she ran off, leaving Mel shaking her head.
“Ah, to be that young again,” she said to herself. “Was I ever that eager to please?”
She closed her door again and looked around the room at the various devices that she'd invented.
The timing of Darlheim's message and Ethen's visit had to be connected, she thought. But whether the guildmaster knew that her old student had copied the note from Cindercore was another question. If he did, she could be walking into danger. Darlheim treated her almost like a favorite granddaughter, but she had no illusions about him. If it came to a choice between her life and the guild's security, Mel believed that the guildmaster would choose the guild over her every time.
I'd better assume the worst and plan accordingly, she told herself.
Ten minutes later, Mel was walking toward the door of the guildmaster. She had changed into a dark leather tunic and leggings and wore matching soft boots. She carried no visible weapons, of course, but there was a leather vambrace on her left forearm that was fastened securely with several buckles.
When she reached the open door, Mel stood in the doorway and waited to be noticed.
“Ah, there you are. Come in, come in, my dear.”
Mel walked into the guildmaster's quarters. The old dwarf was sitting behind his desk, reading reports as usual. She noticed that his hand was trembling as he held up a parchment to peer at it and she wondered how she'd never noticed how old Darlheim had become. She felt both sad and wary in equal measure.
The Dwarven Rebellion Page 6
