The Way of Thieves

by K.N. Lee

  “Are you going to stay with me?” she asked.

  “I will, after …”

  “After you give the pendant to Mirabelle?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” he said, nodding. “We can’t stand up to her.”

  Keira bit her lip. “I know. But we need to be careful. I have a foreboding feeling something big is going to happen very soon.”

  “Yes, I believe you’re right. And, I have a suspicion we’re going to be right in the center of it.”

  Keira stared at him, releasing a breath she seemed to be holding, and for the first time in a long time, he knew she felt the same worry that bubbled in his gut.

  8

  Keira awoke cold and alone.

  Her vision blurred, and her steps came staggered. She held onto the couch as she got to her feet. She was home. Brenden and her shared a small house in the outskirts of the city. A nice, quiet place. But Brenden wasn’t there. His bedroom remained empty, as was the den. He had left to give the pendant to Mirabelle. What had they gotten themselves into? Sure, they were thieves, but this was larger than that. Keira had a bad feeling over the whole ordeal.

  They weren’t always thieves. Of that, Keira remembered. She remembered their mother and father. They were young when their parents died, but Keira was older than Brenden.

  She remembered them. Brenden didn’t.

  A lot of her memories were hazy, but they were there. She tried talking to Brenden about it once, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to know about their parents. Keira remembered them. She remembered being loved. Her father had given her a stuffed dragon toy, which she still had hidden away in her belongings. She remembered his love for her, for them. And she remembered lots of hugs. She also remembered darkness and hiding, her arms protective around Brenden as they hid from danger. But the rest of her memory was blank. She couldn’t remember how they arrived to the Thieves Guild. But she remembered them being cared for. However, something about them being there didn’t feel right.

  Keira went to her wardrobe to rummage through her underclothes drawer until clutching the small, faded dragon. She clutched the stuffed animal to her chest as tears fell down her face. Something was missing in her life. She sniffled, then tucked the animal back into her drawer.

  Keira took a deep breath, then left the house. She needed to breathe. Keira wandered along the street. She needed a drink.

  The Stolen Jewel was the nicest pub in Forscythe, and one of Keira’s favorite places to go. She entered the relatively quiet establishment and meandered to the bar. Tapping the counter, the barkeep noticed her and poured her a glass of whiskey. Nodding to him, she emptied it in one gulp. He refilled it.

  “Rough day?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Stolen anything good lately?”

  Keira scrunched her lips together. “The jobs keep getting larger and larger.”

  “Good, they’re trusting you more and more.”

  She shook her head. Keira didn’t think trust had anything to do with it.

  “Hmm?” he asked.

  “It seems more like something big is going to go down.”

  “Well, it’s been awfully quiet around here the last ten years. Perhaps it’s time for a little excitement.”

  Keira shrugged as she took another sip.

  A man from across the room walked over to sit next to her. He lay three silver coins on the bar.

  “I’m paying for her, Marc.”

  “As you wish.”

  The barkeep, Marc, poured the man a tall mug of ale. Then he turned away to clean the back of the bar.

  Berinon was an old friend of hers. She’d known him for over ten years, pretty much the entire time she’d been with the Thieves Guild, and he was the only one who tried to make her feel welcome. The problem was, she didn’t always want his attention. He was attractive, but he tried too hard, and Keira didn’t like that. Long, curly brown hair fell to his shoulders, his eyes shone hazel, and his smile was adorable. But that was the extent of it.

  Every time they talked, he tried to flirt with her, and it wasn’t going to happen. He appeared boyish, his facial features not fully filled in, and no facial hair to show he was older than a boy. Worst of all, perhaps, was how he definitely didn’t act like a man. At heart, he was still a child, and it was that more than anything else that kept Keira at a distance.

  “What do you want, Berinon?” Keira asked.

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted, Keira. You.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Berinon.”

  “Am I so undesirable, Keira?”

  “We’re not getting into this discussion again.”

  “All I want to know is why.”

  “Why don’t you find someone else to bother?”

  “Because no one else is as desirable as you.”

  His words did make her feel good inside. They warmed her chest, and even though she couldn’t ever imagine herself with him, she did appreciate his words. Though, she would never admit it.

  “This glass is about to meet your forehead, Berinon.” Keira held her glass half full of whiskey in front of her.

  Berinon held his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave it alone … for now.”

  He paused for a moment, scratching his chin before looking into her eyes again. “Been on any interesting missions lately?”

  Keira tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m noticing the jobs have been getting a little odd lately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his hand. “Well, so many of the thefts in the past have been small things: family jewels, heirlooms, gold, or livestock. However, it seems lately, there’s been a bit more involved.”

  “How do you mean?” Keira asked.

  “Have you not had any strange jobs lately?” he asked.

  “I have.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “No,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes. “All right. The last two quests I had were to acquire what at first seemed to be family heirlooms. One from Queesh and the other Tulini. However, upon further inspection. They seem to be magical trinkets.”

  “Magical?” she asked.

  “I can’t know for sure, since I’m not a sorcerer. I mean, all we have is the dragonscale potions for magic, but, I felt something--you know?”

  “I do.”

  “So you’ve noticed something odd too? What was it for you?”

  “A pendant.”

  “Hmm …”

  “What do you think it means?” Keira asked.

  “Honest opinion?” Berinon asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I think a war is coming.”

  Keira’s eyes widened.

  “The question is, who’s starting it?” he asked.

  9

  Mirabelle entered the camp on the outskirts of Deseria.

  She didn’t much care for the desert. Deseria was quite a small city, and really it was a port city between the Nobles Guild and the Assassins Guild, not that the nobles met assassins often. In fact, very few people ever met with the assassins. And if they did, they never lived to tell about it.

  There was a little vegetation since it was near the ocean, but just north of the city it became a thicker desert fast. There weren’t trees surrounding the city, nor inside or anything, but there were hundreds of cacti. Many of them held beautiful pink and yellow flowers on exotic looking green limbs, some even bearing fruit. While they weren’t the pears and apricots she had grown accustomed to, they were sufficient. She didn’t particularly like the place, but it was the best meeting place for the Assassin’s Guild.

  The sun was hot as it pressed down from the sky, but under the cover of the tent, it wasn’t as bad. Mirabelle waited in the tent, anxious to get the meeting over with. He’d sent her a letter, and she had come. They didn’t meet on a regular basis, which meant he must have had news of s
ome kind.

  She didn’t know whether it would be good or bad news, but she was starting to get nervous.

  He was late, and Mirabelle wanted to return home. The desert was a bleak place, and she’d rather be anywhere but there. She’d been waiting for hours, and the heat was beginning to drain her. After taking a deep breath of the thick, salty air, she was ready to give up and go home.

  Xalvador stepped through the tent just in time. He held his hands open, displaying his lack of weapons equipped, and a large measure of respect from the Assassins Guild’s leader.

  Mirabelle smiled at him, and when he reached her, she kissed each side of his cheek in greeting. She grabbed a bottle of wine that rested at the table in front of them.

  Glancing the leader of the Assassins Guild, she smiled. Mirabelle poured herself a glass of wine and offered to pour him a glass as well. His eyes focused on her, but he didn’t budge, not even to sit down across from her. She lifted the glass, and took a long sip. Once she set the glass on the table, a visible amount missing, Xalvador nodded to his glass. Mirabelle smiled. He was testing her, wanting to know if the wine was safe by letting her taste it before he did.

  She poured him a glass and set it on the table across from her. He walked toward her cautiously, watching her every good. Xalvador didn’t trust her. Good. She didn’t trust him either. This would not be an alliance of trust, but an alliance of mutual gain. And so long as each of them proved each other useful, they would work together.

  However, as soon as one lost their usefulness, the other would have to watch out. Mirabelle knew this. She accepted it. There was no other way … she needed the Assassins Guild.

  “How are things with you? Is everything progressing as planned?” Xalvador asked.

  She nodded. “Indeed. What have you learned?”

  Xalvador sat in a chair across from her and crossed his legs. His hood was down, showing him in a trusting mood, but also revealing all of his scars“Well, it took a little time. We had quite the stubborn sorcerer. But … he finally confessed. We now know the location of the Scepter of Reverium.”

  “Do we?” Mirabelle’s eyes glowed with hunger.

  Mirabelle was putting forth many things into action, but one of the most important things was locating the scepter. All of her plans revolved around it. She needed the scepter. With it, the Thieves Guild could rise to the top. She’d spent years trying to find its location, but she’d gotten nowhere. After many years, she finally decided to reach out to see if any others could find its location. But even they had been searching for the scepter for years. Could Xalvador really have finally found it? Her fingertips trembled with anticipation.

  “Yes, but it won’t be easy. In fact, it will be near impossible. I believe you may have an easier time getting to it if we convince them to relocate it to a more secure location.”

  Mirabelle scrunched her lips together. Her excitement faltered, but she wouldn’t give up so easily. “I suspected as much. That’s why we need the other items … speaking of?”

  “We discovered a few more magical items.”

  “I need a list of what they are, where they’re located, and what they do,” she said.

  He grinned, he removed a scroll from his robes and held it out to her. “Of course.”

  She stood, reaching for the scroll. “Thank you.”

  Xalvador held to the scroll tight, not letting her take it from his grasp. “And, Mirabelle?”

  She raised a brow. “Yes?”

  “You better hold up to your end of the bargain.”

  A shudder ran up her spine. “Don’t you worry about me. When this is all said and done, we’ll both have what we want.”

  She didn’t like working with the Assassins Guild, but there was little choice. Mirabelle needed allies. And she needed powerful ones. The Assassins Guild were hard to work with, and they made her uneasy, especially since they did killing for a living. She had to make them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

  “Excellent,” Xalvador said.

  He stood, walked to the edge of the tent, smiled, then departed. She was left alone in silence as she contemplated his words, and read over the scroll he’d left her. An alliance with the Assassins Guild wasn’t ideal, but she wouldn’t need them forever. Unlike most people, she wasn’t afraid of the Assassins Guild. She broken through several guilds before when they no longer served her needs. She could do it again.

  She rolled up the scroll, tucked it in her long robes, and disappeared into the night.

  10

  Bright sunlight streamed into Brenden’s small bedroom window.

  Still drowsy, he stretched and crawled out of bed. He’d returned late from his meeting with Mirabelle. However, not as late as Keira. He’d seen her stumbling in from a night at the pub.

  Keira crossed his mind. Worry bubbled in his belly as he thought of how much she seemed to be drinking.

  Something was wrong, and he could only hope that she’d be all right.

  He knew she had nightmares, and he wished he could do something to help her. He noticed whenever she didn’t drink, she’d scream in the middle of the night. He’d only tried to comfort her a few times, but after being attacked a few times during her nightly terrors, he reluctantly gave up trying to comfort her during those times of distress.

  He stepped out into the living room and noticed her passed out on the chair again. Brenden clenched his fist. He hated seeing her like this. An empty bottle of whiskey lay at her side. But, she hadn’t woken up during the night. Brenden wished she didn’t have to drink to keep her nightmares away.

  He approached her, careful to keep quiet. She didn’t snore, but her breath came out in puffs from her mouth. It was quite adorable. He put his hand on the top of her head, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. Brenden didn’t have any one else in this world. Of that, Keira was right. She was his sister, and he loved her eternally.

  He walked to the door. He needed answers. Keira had brought up some very valid concerns. The problem was, in a guild of thieves, there were very few people Brenden could trust. In fact, he knew of only one besides Keira. It was time to pay him a visit.

  He opened the door and closed his eyes for a moment as the blinding sunlight glared at him. The streets were bare around his place, a fact which he enjoyed. He never liked being near the center of the city, let alone choosing a home to live there.

  If Brenden let Keira have her way, she’d have them living in the center of Forscythe, especially because of the amount of pubs at the city’s center. Taking a large inhalation of morning air, his lips lifted in a partial smile, and he began strolling along the street.

  It didn’t take him long to reach his destination. Like Brenden, this man he sought loved the seclusion of the outskirts. Brenden rubbed his thumb against his fingers as he stood in front of the door. He hadn’t visited the man in a long while. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his nerves. His nervous hand tick slowed and he took slower breaths. He opened his eyes and knocked on the door.

  In less than a minute, it opened. A older man with long, white wavy hair and a large mustache stood on the inside.

  “What brings you here? It’s been a while.”

  “I know, Uriah. I’ve been busy.”

  Uriah’s grin grew wider. “So I’ve heard. In fact, from what I hear … you’ve become the number one thief in the guild.”

  Brenden’s face twisted, wrinkles forming on his cheek, and his mouth set in a half frown. “I doubt that.”

  “I don’t.” Uriah clasped a hand on Brenden’s shoulder.

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course,” Uriah said, stepping away from the door and gesturing with his hand toward his small home.

  Brenden nodded to him. He didn’t break a smile, though he did miss Uriah, but too much was on his mind for pleasantries.

  Brenden knew Uriah his whole life. Or, at least, as much of his life as he could remember. Uriah had been the one who raised him and Keira. Brenden knew Uriah wasn’t h
is father, but in many respects, he was a father to Uriah.

  Without him, the endless cruelness of the different thieves’ children as well as the angry glances from many of the adult thieves, Brenden didn’t know if he would have made it to adulthood. It was Uriah’s protection and teachings that had helped them through his trying time of adolescence. Uriah took him and his sister in when their parents had died.

  Brenden walked into Uriah’s kitchen, opened the cabinet, and withdrew a bottle of scotch.

  Uriah raised an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”

  Brenden shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  Uriah nodded as he sat at his table. “Pour me a glass while you’re at it.”

  Brenden poured two glasses, then joined Uriah at the table in the seat across from him.

  “Spill it, boy,” Uriah said.

  “Well, I’m not sure if it’s anything or not … but—”

  “But what?” Uriah ran his hand through his white hair, slowly, his fingers getting tangled in his long curls. “Don’t keep me waiting, Brenden. I’m on the edge of my seat in suspense.”

  Brenden laughed out loud.

  “What? You don’t think I’m curious?”

  Brenden tapped his mouth. “It’s not that. I don’t believe you can be on the edge of your seat for anything.”

  Uriah’s lips lifted and he nodded. “All right, you got me. Still, talk to me, boy. You know I’ve always been here to listen.”

  “As you know, I’ve had a lot of missions lately. A lot of thefts. I used to get one a month, then it became once a week, and now I barely have breaks between jobs--”

  “As I said, boy, the word is you’re the best. You do an even better job, with less casualties than older, more experienced thieves. I believe it’s because you’ve always had a knack of predicting the movements of your adversaries, and always having a dozen backup plans.”

  “I never have a dozen backup plans,” Brenden complained.

  “How many do you have?”

  “Five.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Brenden shrugged. “Still, there’s something more going on. My last job was to steal a pendant from royalty.”