by A. C. Cobble
“The Street of Thorns,” said Rhys suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
“I, ah, I do not know why it would sound familiar to you,” replied the Madam Crimson. “It is a famous street, though. It runs down the center of the most coveted island in the city. The only buildings on the street are very expensive palaces. No shopkeeper could afford space there, and hired guards keep away all of the vendor’s carts. Several of the most powerful merchants in the Guild reside there—”
“The Guild,” said Rhys, a grin growing on his face. He turned to Ben.
Frowning, Ben tried to guess at what his friend was… “Oh,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face. “I forgot about the Guild.”
“What guild?” asked Prem.
“The Merchant’s?” speculated O’ecca. “They rule Fabrizo.”
“Not the Merchant’s Guild,” said Rhys. He turned to Madam Crimson. “Am I right?”
“The location of the Thieves’ Guild headquarters is one of Fabrizo’s most closely guarded secrets,” answered Madam Crimson. “Only the elders in the guild and those close to achieving that status are allowed inside. Not even general guild members know the location. We are not certain, but we suspect there is a palace on the Street of Thorns which might be the place. Obviously, confirming that information would be incredibly dangerous. For generations, it seems, the thieves have hidden in plain sight.”
“Where is this potential guild headquarters located compared to the palace the Veil is staying in?” wondered Rhys.
“Next door,” answered Madam Crimson, an uncomfortable wince on her face.
Looking to Ben, Rhys claimed, “This couldn’t be more perfect.”
Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose to stem a sudden throbbing in his head, Ben responded, “I’m not sure what you are considering to be perfect about this.”
“You know the thieves, Ben. You can get us inside.”
“You are the one who knows the thieves!” exclaimed Ben, opening his eyes and scowling at his friend.
“Really?” said Rhys, crossing his arms. “I recall you were the one who guested with them.”
“Rhys!” protested Ben. “I would not say I was a guest there. Casper said that if we ever returned—"
“You spent the night in the secret headquarters of the thieves’ guild, which only the elders are allowed to know the location of, and you met their black knife Casper?” said Madam Crimson, her flat tone clearly showing her disbelief.
“Trust me,” responded O’ecca, glee bubbling in her voice. “If they say they stayed at the thieves’ guild, they did.”
“I can confirm the building the Veil is in, but the thieves…” said the madam, shaking her head.
“Ben knows which one it is,” drawled Rhys, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. “We can verify it ourselves.”
“So do you!” Ben snapped, glaring at the rogue. “You know exactly which building it is.”
“Look,” said Amelie, waving her hand to hush the two men. “Knowing the location of the Veil is the easy part of the battle. Getting Towaal out of there before the Veil realizes what is happening is going to be more difficult. Her location next door to a lair of thieves is interesting, but right now, we don’t know if it will help or hurt us. One thing we do know, between the Veil and the thieves, that street is likely to have more security than anywhere outside of the Citadel or the Sanctuary.”
“Is it a coincidence, do you think?” wondered Prem.
Ben frowned, scratching at his arm.
“Hold on,” said Madam Crimson, rubbing at her temples with long, elegant fingers. “You’re going to… steal someone from the Veil’s custody? She’s the most powerful mage in, well, in the world, I suppose. She’s surrounded by a dozen other mages, all of whom have been studying their craft for longer than I’ve been alive. That woman must have brought three hundred soldiers to Fabrizo, though why she needs them, I can’t imagine. She alone is more than enough to deter the boldest thief in this city. I may not know all of the thieves’ secrets, but I can tell you for certain, none of them are stupid enough to cross the Veil. And you’re telling me… This-This is madness!”
“I wonder,” said Rhys, rubbing two fingers on his chin. “The thieves may not be bold enough to attempt it on their own, but the opportunity to steal from the Veil…”
Madam Crimson stared at O’ecca then turned and eyed the entire party again. “It is probably best that I know as little bit about this as possible, but I cannot resist. Please, tell me what kind of plan you could possibly have to break into the Veil’s palace?”
“We’re not sure yet,” said Ben with a shrug. “We’ll think of something.”
“Think of something?” spluttered Madam Crimson.
“It’s not the first time we’ve snuck someone out from under the Veil’s nose,” added Ben. “Last time, I just kind of walked into the Sanctuary and did it. Really, it is getting away that is the hard part.”
“Getting away is always the hardest part,” agreed Rhys.
The madam’s jaw fell open, and Ben could tell they’d done enough damage to the woman’s psyche for one morning.
“I think we should go,” Ben suggested to his friends.
“I could use some rest. Then, we need a plan to reconnoiter the location,” said Amelie.
“There’s an inn I know about four islands away from the Street of Thorns,” mentioned Rhys. “Close enough we won’t have to go far, but far enough we shouldn’t accidentally bump into anyone. Unless we want to enjoy Madam Crimson’s hospitality for the rest of the day, that is.”
Amelie glanced between the rogue and the madam. “This pains me to say, but Rhys, lead us to this inn of yours.”
After getting a few more details, they left the madam shaking her head and staring at them incredulously. The sounds of frantic love-making died down as they passed into the main room, and the cacophony of the Stranger’s Market greeted them when they stepped into the bright, early morning sun.
“He was kidding about staying in there, wasn’t he?” Prem whispered to Amelie, glaring at the rogue’s back.
“Probably, but it’s hard to tell,” admitted Amelie.
“He was kidding,” said Ben, nudging Amelie. “With him, it’s just a lot of talk.”
Prem twisted her lips. Then, she hurried after Rhys, who was already weaving his way through the market. Amelie raised an eyebrow at Ben, and he nodded to Prem and Rhys, clapping his hands together. She stared at him, not understanding.
“Prem is interested in Rhys,” explained Ben. “You know, interested…”
“Obviously. What I’m confused about is why you’re trying to encourage that?” hissed Amelie.
“Well,” Ben replied, “he’s our friend.”
“So is Prem!”
O’ecca threw one arm around Amelie’s shoulder and one around Ben’s. “There’s never a dull moment with you, is there? I knew we were in for an adventure the moment I saw you in Whitehall. To think how stuffy I was when we first met. You really opened my eyes, you know? Showed me a side of the world and life that I had never experienced.”
“You’re welcome,” mumbled Ben.
“Everyone back at the emperor’s court is going to be jealous,” continued O’ecca. “All they ever do is read documents and mediate petty disputes between the lords. Getting drunk, fighting assassins, talking to whores, secret thieves’ lairs, stealing from the Veil…”
“You were the one who brought us to the whores,” complained Ben.
“We’d better go or we’ll lose them,” said Amelie, slipping out of O’ecca’s embrace and scurrying after Rhys and Prem.
“Be honest,” said O’ecca. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have found some way into a whorehouse. Or a whoretent, I guess. Is that what they call it? You know what I mean.”
Ben didn’t have anything to say to that, so he hurried after the rest of the party.
8
; Storm the Palace
“So, how are we going to do this?” asked Prem later that evening.
They’d taken rooms in the inn Rhys had suggested and slept most of the morning. In the afternoon, Amelie slowly circled the Street of Thorns from the islands surrounding it, sensing for wards. She’d found none on the street but was able to feel that the palace which housed the Veil pulsed with passive energy. Either the women inside were constantly manipulating a steady amount of energy, or they’d layered wards all around the structure. They assumed it was the latter.
“I might be able to drain the energy from the wards, but they are certain to realize it’s happening,” said Amelie. “I couldn’t tell the nature of any of them from afar, but based on the types of defenses I’m aware of in the Sanctuary itself, I don’t think any of it would be fatal. There is too much traffic of their own people in and out to risk that.”
“How certain are you?” asked Ben.
Amelie shrugged.
“I wish my father was here,” said Prem.
“We could contact him,” suggested Amelie.
Prem shook her head. “You could send him or some of the other guardians that you felt, but I don’t think it will be enough to understand the details we need to know. I’m afraid he won’t be of any help through a thought meld. What about Hadra?”
“She’ll be even less help. She doesn’t have the sensitivity of your father. We’d also risk alerting the Veil to our presence,” added Amelie, toying with a plain, wooden cup filled with wine. “Any significant manipulation of energy close to the place is almost certain to trigger some of the wards.”
“How many wards do you think there are?” asked Ben.
Amelie sipped her wine before answering. “It will be impossible to tell until we’re walking in. For me to sense them from a block away, we can assume it’s a lot.”
“How long do you think it would have taken them to put that in place?” asked Ben, frowning in thought. He’d borrowed a blank sheet of parchment from the innkeeper with plans to sketch out a strategy, but so far, the sheet was blank.
“There are a dozen mages, we think,” said Amelie, her brow furrowed in thought. “Though, even that we are not sure of. With twelve skilled women, it might take a day to put defensives like that around the palaces we’ve seen near the Street of Thorns. Could be longer, depending on what they’ve done, how big the area they warded, and how skilled the practitioners are. It’s highly possible, Ben, that there is no way for us to enter without triggering those wards. Each one of those mages has more experience at this than I do.”
“We could draw them out,” suggested Rhys. “Set up some sort of distraction that would get the mages running.”
“Like what?” asked Prem.
“We could set the building on fire?”
Amelie snorted and rolled her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting something, Rhys.”
“Right, Towaal is inside. I forgot.” The rogue sipped his ale, looking unapologetic.
“Did you?” asked Amelie.
Rhys grinned at her.
“Twelve mages, a day worth of effort for each of them,” said Ben. “Why would they do that?”
“Could they be afraid of us?” wondered Prem.
“More likely afraid of Avril,” said Amelie. “Even though the Veil believes Avril will hunt for us first, she won’t take any chances with her own safety.”
“She won’t take any chances…” said Ben, speaking slowly, allowing his thoughts to develop. “Why is she here then? She hasn’t left the Sanctuary grounds for, what, centuries? I understand why she traveled to Whitehall to help protect the Alliance and further her goals. Does being in Fabrizo help with that? Saala isn’t here. The army isn’t here… What is she doing that is worth the risk when she knows Avril is out there and is going to come for her sooner or later?”
Amelie frowned.
“You’re right,” admitted Rhys. “She could have made it to the City just as quickly as she made it to Fabrizo. It would be safer for her to wait there, and she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything here. Madam Crimson said she’s been sitting in that palace for days. There has to be something she’s planning to accomplish in Fabrizo.”
They sat back, looking silently into their drinks, mulling over the possibilities. All around them, the common room bubbled with the sound of conversation, the thunk of ale-filled mugs on tables, and the sizzle of fat dripping into the fire from a roasting hog.
A man stumbled into Ben, his elbow smacking Ben’s shoulder and his full mug sloshing a dribble of ale down Ben’s tunic. Ben yelped.
The man grinned at him, showing a dark gap where his two front teeth used to be. “Sorry. Damn uneven boards in this place, ey?”
The man weaved away, bouncing into patrons, tables, and chairs, offering hasty apologies and losing half his ale before he settled down at a crowded table. Ben watched him go, muttering and wiping at the spilled ale.
“I wish we could have gotten a private room or a table in the corner,” complained Ben. “You never know who’s going to come up behind you out in the open like this.”
“Coulda been worse,” said Rhys. “The Veil, that thief Casper, men from the Alliance, the Coalition…”
“And don’t forget Avril,” added Amelie. “She’d do more than spill her ale on you.”
Ben frowned.
“What?” queried Amelie, seeing the look on his face.
“Lady Coatney let us go because she thought we’d draw Avril, right?”
Amelie shrugged. “You’re the one she talked to.”
“She said she was certain that Avril would track us down and try to enact revenge,” said Ben. “She told me she didn’t care who won, only that we stayed out of her way long enough for her to get the war started and to finish what she’s been planning. But, when we escaped Whitehall, we came here, the same place she is.”
“You’re the bait in a trap,” declared Rhys with a groan.
“I asked her if we were bait, and she said no,” protested Ben. “If we were the bait, wouldn’t she… I don’t know, wouldn’t she capture us to make sure we stayed near her?”
“She said no, and you believed her?” said Rhys, leaning forward. “Not to mention, we are near her!”
“I-I… She tried to keep us in Whitehall, remember? She knew we’d eventually get away, but we could have gone anywhere!” argued Ben. “If she was setting a trap, she wouldn’t risk us going to... somewhere else. It doesn’t make any sense unless—”
“Unless she knew where you were going to go and went there ahead of you,” argued Rhys. “Fabrizo is the only logical way we could travel to reach Saala. Even if we decided to bypass Saala and go straight to Lord Jason, this would still be the quickest route. She took Towaal with her, too, as extra incentive for us to come here. Damnit, all along she’s known exactly where we’ll go!”
“She said we weren’t bait,” muttered Ben, reaching for his ale.
“Well, if she said it, who am I to argue?” Rhys asked, sitting back and grabbing his own ale.
The two of them drank deeply, locking eyes over the rims of their cups.
A moment passed. Then, Ben set down his mug. He admitted, “I’ve been stupid. We are the bait.”
“You and the rest of us, Ben,” comforted Amelie. “We were so proud we slipped the net, none of us considered that we’d be walking into her trap, again.”
“What kind of trap?” asked Prem, her eyes darting around nervously.
“Last time the Veil and Avril faced each other,” said Ben, “they were on Avril’s chosen ground. This time, they’ll be on Coatney’s terms.”
“Why would Avril be tempted with something like that?” questioned O’ecca. “She laid in wait for years and years in Ooswam. If she’s that patient, then surely she’ll just retreat into the shadows and try again when she can gain an advantage.”
“No,” said Ben, shaking his head. “Lady Coatney hadn’t left the grounds of the Sanctuary in ce
nturies, remember? Evidently, Avril was unwilling to directly attack her there. Her entire plan in Whitehall was about drawing Coatney away from the Sanctuary.”
“As a former Veil,” added Rhys, “Avril would know more about the Sanctuary’s defenses than anyone. Trust me, those women have steered me through the brambles more than once. The defenses around that place are powered by the might of a First Mage. That’s something even Avril would be hesitant to challenge.”
“The only window she’s ever had to directly confront Lady Coatney is still open,” concluded Ben. “The Veil knows that Avril will come for her here. The question is, why did she release us?”
“She knew we’d come to Fabrizo, and Avril would go to her,” declared Amelie. “The Veil still means to use us to help finish Avril. Think about this. If Avril attacks us here, she’ll alert Coatney to her presence. If she attacks Coatney first, then we’ll know where she is.”
“If she wants the advantage of surprise, she has to strike both of us at once or choose one target over the other,” surmised Prem.
“My guess,” said Ben, “the Veil connected the dots even before we woke up in Whitehall. She’s set the board by kidnapping Towaal, ensuring we’ll be in the same place she is. She knows Avril will want the advantage of surprise and will want to catch both of us at once. Coatney is trying to ensure it will happen. Both women will be counting on one strike to eliminate their opponents. Unless they have the ability to demolish the entire city like Avril tried in Whitehall, there’s only one logical place either one would spring their traps.”
“The palace where Towaal is held,” said Amelie. “The Veil is staying there, and Avril knows that’s where we’d have to go to recover our friend. The Veil hopes that Avril will follow us in, and she can catch both of us in her snare.”
“But, Avril must suspect it’s a trap,” argued Rhys, scratching his head. “She knows Coatney too well and knows Coatney would not do something as stupid as exposing herself without taking precautions.”
