She glanced out the window. The sun still shone high in the sky; she had at least three or four hours until sunset. A younger Ilanna would have hated the idea of being cooped up; now, she almost welcomed it. After a sleepless night, she could use a few hours of rest.
"Right, then," Laken said, heading for the door. "Back off to beat the streets." He tugged on the pocket of his vest, setting the coins jingling. "I can hear the taverns of Voramis calling."
Ilanna rolled her eyes. When the door closed behind the Hound, she turned to Keltor. "Any word from the Serpents?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Ilanna let out a slow breath. Nothing from Errik and Sys meant Lord Torath and Lord Damuria were still holed up in their mansions. In a way, that was good news—at least she knew where to find them.
Now, if only I can figure out how to get to them.
She lay on the room's second bed and closed her eyes, bringing to mind the images of the Damuria and Torath mansions. Both had plenty of vulnerabilities, but only after she got over—or under—the walls and past the men guarding them. Perhaps tomorrow Graeme would be at The Angry Goblin, and she could convince him to guide her through the Serenii tunnels. If not, at least he could point her to an entrance near enough to the mansions that she could find her own way in.
She worked at the problem but made little progress. Her mind kept wandering back to the dark-skinned girl and the boy—no, Kodyn's a young man now—waiting for her in Praamis. A smile touched her lips as she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of her home and family.
"Guild Master." A hand shook Ilanna's shoulder. "Guild M—"
Her eyes snapped open and she was on her feet, drawing her dagger and pressing it to her assailant's neck in the same motion.
The man before her froze, hands held high. "I-It's me, Master Gold!" Fear echoed in his voice and filled his wide eyes.
Ilanna stared at him with unseeing eyes. For a moment, she still lived in the world of dreams, reliving the terrors of her past: locked in a darkened room with a dozen weeping children, screaming in agony as Sabat shattered her bones, the horror of the green flames burning her home and family to ash.
Her mind snapped back to reality. In the dim moonlight, she recognized the man's broad, friendly features. "Laken?" she asked.
The Hound nodded, gaze fixed on the dagger against his throat. "I'm sorry to wake you, but…" He swallowed.
She lowered the dagger. "Tell me," she said, her voice deliberately calm after her violent reaction. "What news?"
Laken rubbed his throat. "I-I think something big is happening tonight."
Ilanna's mind was instantly alert, all traces of sleep gone. "Tell me everything."
The Hound drew in a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "I'd been hanging around the taverns and alehouses in the Merchant's Quarter, chatting up locals, buying drinks, and keeping an ear out for rumors floating around." His expression grew pensive. "One of my new drinking companions had a piece of friendly advice for me: 'Keep clear of the docks, boyo,' he told me. 'Nuthin' good's goin' on there after dark.'"
He hesitated. "After a couple more taverns and far too much to drink," he said with a grimace, "I managed to get a bit more information from some other roustabouts and dockhands. Seems like most people know to steer clear of the southern half of the Port of Voramis tonight—from the second or third hour after dark until sunrise."
Ilanna pursed her lips. It didn't take a genius to guess the reason why everyone would avoid the port.
"What's more," Laken continued, "I got the sense that this happens regular-like."
That confirmed it. "The Bloody Hand," she snarled.
Laken nodded. "Only thing I could think of."
Ilanna clapped his back. "Good job, Laken!" She spun back to the bed and reached for her belt, weapons, and cloak. "Southern half of the port, you said?"
"Yes, Guild Master." He spoke in a hesitant voice. "If you'd like, I could let Master Serpent and the others know--"
"Do that!" Ilanna stalked toward the door. "Tell Errik—Master Serpent—to come to the docks. I'll want him to be ready to move when I give the signal. Have him bring Athar or Sys, if he can spare one."
"Signal." Laken repeated the word in a wooden tone. "Guild Master," he said, his voice hesitant, "no disrespect meant, but do you think it's wise to—"
Ilanna cut him off with an upraised finger. "Don't finish that sentence, Laken."
The Hound's mouth snapped shut, his face coloring. "But the Bloody Hand is looking for you."
"Aye, that they are." Ilanna nodded. "And do you think they'll expect me to be walking right toward them? Only a fool would do that."
Laken looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely held his tongue.
"Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, but I can look after myself."
"F-Forgive me, Guild Master," Laken stammered. "I meant no offense."
"And I took none." Ilanna checked her daggers and sword in their sheaths. "But you have your orders, so carry them out."
Laken bowed. "Of course, Guild Master." He turned toward the door.
"Laken." Her call stopped him with his hand on the latch. "Once you pass the message to Master Serpent, you're to take his place."
Laken's face fell.
"I admire your desire to take a stand against the Bloody Hand—Keeper knows we need more stalwarts willing to bring them a taste of their own foul medicines. I do not doubt your skill at arms; Master Serpent would not have brought you otherwise. But you have other talents that will serve me and the Night Guild better."
The dismay on Laken's face diminished, but didn't disappear completely. "As you say, Master Gold." With a short bow, he slipped out of the room.
Ilanna opened her pouch and ran a practiced eye over the assorted tools within. She doubted she'd need the lockpicks, but the other items—leather gloves, quickfire globes, alchemical beamer lamp, even the curved finger knife—would come in handy.
She'd just turned to climb out the window when she caught the creak of the floorboard outside the room. A moment later, the door opened and Keltor entered, a frothing tankard in hand.
"Ah!" He started at the sight of her, splashing a few drops of ale onto the floor. "Ahh," he said in a calmer voice after he recovered, "Guild Master, I did not expect to see you awake." He raised an eyebrow. "And, it seems, going out? Surely the streets of Voramis aren't—"
Ilanna cut him off with a sharp gesture. "If you say 'safe', Keltor, I'll send you back to Praamis tied between two mules."
Keltor frowned. "Empty threats don't become you, Guild Master. No doubt were Master Serpent here, he'd suggest the same."
"And I'd ignore him just the same." Ilanna gave a dismissive wave. "Enjoy your ale. If Master Serpent sends word through Athar, let him know that I've gone to the Port of Voramis."
"The port?" The Scorpion's brow furrowed. "What's so important that you'd take the risk?"
Ilanna shrugged. "All I know is that the entire southern half of the port's been cleared out."
Keltor's eyes widened. The Port of Voramis accommodated hundreds of cargo ships, boats, pleasure yachts, and barges. Thousands of dockhands, vessel crews, tax collectors, and merchants plied their trades in the port, and thousands more plied the crafts of thievery, pick-pocketing, prostitution, and press-ganging. To clear out the entire southern half required the sort of power and influence only wielded by King Gavian and his Justiciars, or the Bloody Hand.
"That is worth checking out," Keltor agreed. "Would it not be wiser to send the Serpents?"
Ilanna shrugged. "Perhaps. Did Athar bring any news while I slept?"
Keltor shook his head. "Nothing."
"Which means Lord Damuria and Lord Torath are still exactly where we left them. But I don't want to miss whatever the Bloody Hand is doing tonight. We can't afford to wait for Athar to show up and get word back to Master Serpent."
Keltor pursed his prim lips. "I don't like it, but I can't argue the logic."
With a sigh, Keltor nodded. "So be it. May the Watcher in the Dark protect you."
Ilanna gave him a wry grin. "Tonight, I will be the one doing the watching."
Chapter Nine
Ilanna flattened herself against a stack of wooden pallets and drew in slow, steady breaths. The tromp of heavy boots grew louder, accompanied by the dim light of torches blown by the crisp wind rolling off the Endless Sea. A trio of Bloody Hand thugs marched past a scant ten paces from her hiding place. The whipping breeze carried away their low conversation, but Ilanna had no need to hear what they said. No doubt they were busy complaining about being stuck out here, where their torches did little to ward off the darkness and chill.
Ilanna slithered deeper into the shadows and ducked under the prow of a dry-docked ship. When she emerged from behind the massive vessel, the thugs had disappeared. A faint glimmer of light on the far side of a long line of stacked barrels marked their position clearly.
The Bloody Hand had a reputation for ruthlessness and violence, but clearly professionalism and efficiency mattered far less than the ability to crack skulls. She'd had no problem avoiding the straggling bands of thugs sent to patrol the docks. It seemed more a formality than a necessity, as if the Five Fingers that ruled the criminal organization had total confidence in their control over the city. No one would dare to disobey them for fear of reprisal.
Ilanna had lost her fear of the Bloody Hand long ago. She would sneak into the First's stronghold and put a dagger in him if she knew where to find it. Sneaking through the empty port and evading the Bloody Hand thugs proved a far less daunting task.
Unfortunately, the last hour of search had yielded nothing but the reek of rotting fish and decaying ocean debris. She'd contemplated following the patrolling thugs and hope they led her where she wanted to go, but decided she'd waste less time searching the port for herself. Until now, her decision seemed the poorer choice.
Yet, as she rounded a massive wooden storage structure, she caught a glimmer of torchlight, accompanied by the sound of rattling metal and feet pounding on a wooden gangway. Heart pounding with nervous anticipation, she hurried toward the sound as quickly as she could while hugging the shadows.
At the far end of a wooden pier, a mid-sized cargo ship sat at anchor. Lamps cast a faint radius of light across the ship's deck, but from her vantage point, she couldn't get a clear glimpse of the figures moving about on board. There was no mistaking the four huge, heavily-muscled figures waiting on the dock.
She'd found the Bloody Hand.
She slipped closer, her soft-soled boots padding across the stone dock without a sound. A barrel provided her with a stepping stone to leap up and grab ahold of the top of a shed. With no more noise than a midsummer zephyr, she crawled to the end of the roof closest to the ship.
The vantage gave her a better view of the figures on board the ship. Two rough-looking sailors held wooden truncheons, while a third knelt over a locked hatch set into the deck. Another sailor busied himself with the rigging. As she watched, a man wearing the garb of the ship's captain appeared from the cabin, followed by a grizzled man carrying a drawn cutlass. The captain shouted something at the kneeling man, who tugged open the hatch and peered in.
A head emerged from the hatch, then the slim, short figure of a young girl. For a moment, Ilanna thought the night's shadows obscured her features. But when the girl stepped into the light of the torches burning aboard the ship, Ilanna's jaw dropped.
Ghandians!
Another girl climbed from the hatch, followed by a third, fourth, more. Tattered rags hung from their willowy frames, the grey material contrasting sharply with their ebony skin. Blood, sweat, and worse plastered their kinky hair to their scalps. More than a few limped, hobbled, or sported facial bruises. One cradled her wrist close to her chest. Ilanna caught a glimpse of striped and shredded flesh on more than one dark back.
Disgust churned in her gut. The rattle of chains carried on the night breeze, and light glinted off the steel manacles securing their wrists, ankles, and necks. One of the sailors gave a vicious yank on the lead chain, sending one column of girls stumbling forward. When they failed to move fast enough, another sailor struck the rearmost girl in the lower back with a truncheon.
A memory flashed through her mind: a dark-skinned girl lay chained to a soiled bed, her cheeks hollow and eyes dull from narcotics. Ria had looked like that the day Ilanna found her, all those years ago. Little more than skin and bones, her body wasted. She would have died—either of repeated abuse, malnourishment, and thirst or at her own hands—had Ilanna not rescued her.
This was the primary difference between the Night Guild and the Bloody Hand. The Guild was filled with thieves, killers, cruel men and women. Yet they followed laws, imposed both by their own Houses and--unbeknownst to them--the Crown, through Master Gold. Under Ilanna's tenure, conditions for those in the Guild and Praamis had improved, if only slightly.
Yet the Bloody Hand operated without restrictions, without oversight. King Gavian was too terrified to resist, and the Heresiarchs and Justiciars turned a blind eye or played willing participants. The Five Fingers encouraged anything that turned a profit, no matter how much misery it brought to Voramis and the rest of Einan. They did what they pleased, uncaring of who they harmed.
Which is why they have to be stopped. If not by me, by someone.
The Night Guild could never challenge the might of the Bloody Hand, but they could mitigate the horrors inflicted upon Praamis. It had to be enough. For now.
One day, I will find a way to make them pay.
To her horror, the lines of chained figures continued climbing from the hatch. Two sailors herded the first group down the gangway to clear space. The Bloody Hand thugs sent the girls stumbling toward a wooden shed identical to the one upon which she lay. When her gaze returned to the ship, close to a hundred girls crowded the deck, descended the gangway, or shuffled toward the structure.
And still more emerged.
Ilanna had little knowledge of boats and their cargo capacities, but it seemed impossible that the ship could carry so many. They had to have been stacked up like cordwood. She shuddered to imagine the terrible conditions the girls must have endured while sailing down the Endless Sea, at the mercy of the sailors. Their fate with the Bloody Hand would be little better.
A few of the girls struggled or tried to fight back, but the sailors towered over them. Ilanna had little doubt the captives had been fed and watered just enough to keep them alive. The Bloody Hand would add mind-numbing drugs to starvation and thirst. How many more girls would die before they were separated and sent to their final destinations?
Ilanna's fists clenched. No more, she determined. Not if I can help it.
She'd come to Voramis to put an end to Lord Torath's trade of women to her city. The truth came as a harsh realization: the girls she'd rescued in Praamis were but a fraction of those taken from their home and sold around Einan. Even if she cleaned up her city, it would do nothing to save those sent elsewhere.
But what could she do? She was one thief, alone against impossible odds. Four Bloody Hand thugs stood around the ship, along with the five sailors. Add to that the thugs patrolling the port, and she had little chance of surviving a direct confrontation.
If only she could get word to Errik or Sys in time, maybe they could help. Even just one of the Serpents could make a difference. With the element of surprise on her side…
A movement in the darkness to her left set her on full alert. She flattened herself against the roof of the shed, trusting her cloak to hide her from watching eyes. Peering over the edge, she scanned the shadows. Nothing stood out of place. Perhaps she'd just imagined it, or it had been a cloth rustled by the evening breeze.
There it is again! No mistaking it: it was a person slithering through the night
.
She strained to see, but the shadows were too thick for her to catch more than a glimpse of movement. The figure glided through the darkness like a shade, moving at a slow, steady pace toward the ship. It stopped just beyond the ring of torchlight illuminating the Bloody Hand thugs and their captives. Crouching, it waited and watched.
Ilanna's heart leapt. Only one person she knew moved like that.
She slid her legs over the roof's edge and dropped, her soft-soled boots landing on the dock with a muffled thump. She imitated the figure's movements, flitting between the shadows, keeping out of sight of the gathered men. A short distance from the crouching figure, she drew out her quickfire globes. At the same time, she hissed, "Errik."
As the figure whirled, she brought the two alchemical globes close enough together that a spark of red and blue shone in their glassy depths. She held the light for a heartbeat before pulling the globes apart.
Errik crept toward her. "Ilanna?" he asked, crouching behind a nearby stack of barrels.
"You got my message, good."
"Message?" Errik sounded confused. "What message? What are you doing here?"
Ilanna thrust her chin toward the ship. "Laken heard rumors something was going on." Now it was her turn to be confused. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Laken?" Errik shook his head. "I haven't seen him since this morning."
Ilanna's brow furrowed. "But I sent him to tell you…" She trailed off. "If he didn't find you, what are you doing here?"
Errik pointed toward the ship. "Following my targets."
Ilanna's eyes widened. She whipped around, scanning the crowd gathered around the gangplank. "Targets?"
At that moment, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the ring of torchlight. His white-blond hair was pulled back into a tight tail at the nape of his neck, and he wore his beard trimmed in a precise goatee. A dark cloak hid his body from view, but Ilanna spotted the outline of a sword.
Even as she opened her mouth to speak, another figure appeared at the first man's shoulder. Even from this distance, she had no trouble recognizing the slim, angular features she'd seen on the dockside in Praamis.
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