Thief of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 2)

by Andy Peloquin

  Ilanna remained motionless for ten thundering heartbeats, then darted into the small bathing chamber. Shuddering, she splashed water over her body, scrubbing her chest, face, neck, and between her legs to be rid of any traces of him. Her skin crawled at the memory of his touch, his sweat, his breath, as if infected by a disease that went bone deep.

  The smell of Allon’s pleasure twisted her stomach into knots. She tore off the bedsheets and hurled them into a corner. Reaching into the chest at the foot of her bed, she drew out a vial, uncorked it, and downed the contents in a single gulp. She’d learned to make the contraceptive potion years ago, a few months after Sabat.

  Stomach burning, she slid to a seat, back against the wall, legs drawn to her chest. She reached for a dagger and clutched it in a death-grip. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths and tried to drive off the sensations washing over her: the agony of her hip, injured in a fall from the Black Spire; the taste of blood and dust in her mouth as Sabat smashed her face against the floor; the fetid smell and the heat of his breath on her face.

  She gritted her teeth against a surge of acid. I will do what I must! She repeated the words, clinging to them as she had that night. As she had when she lay in bed recovering from Sabat’s vicious attack, and again when Journeyman Tyman presented her with the tea that would end her pregnancy.

  She’d survived. She’d had her vengeance on the Bloodbear apprentice. The image of his death still kept her awake at night, just as the memory of him forcing his way inside her. She’d vowed never again to be weak. Everything she’d done since that day had ensured she kept that promise.

  Sabat had shown her the truth that night: she had to be harder, crueler if she wanted to survive. She wouldn’t let herself be used; she would use others first. No matter how much it made her cringe to do it.

  The words of Croquembouche, a courtesan from The Arms of Heaven in Voramis, rang in her mind. “You think I like doing this? The feeling of those grubby hands in all the wrong places? Not a bleedin’ chance, girl. But it gets me what I want.” The fact that Croquembouche had become the madame of the house—buying her former madame’s share of the brothel—proved she knew her business.

  Ilanna had discovered the truth of the courtesan’s words on multiple occasions. Allon was just the latest in a string of people who served her purposes. He wasn’t the first who’d fallen prey to the allures of her body. He wouldn’t be the last. Once he stopped being useful, she would find someone else.

  He had his uses, for now. As Master Hawk’s nephew, he elevated her status in the House Master’s eyes. As a Hound, he could procure things she couldn’t. His skills as a tracker and hunter had come in handy on more than one occasion. It was why she had allowed him to touch her in the first place. She’d found the right incentive. All she had to do was moan and pretend to enjoy his touch at the right times, and he’d do whatever she wanted.

  At that moment, she wanted nothing to do with the man—with any of the Guild. She ached to be free of the stuffy underground warren and the stink of sweat permeating her cramped chamber. She had to flee everything that reminded her of the life her father had condemned her to.

  She just wanted to be home.

  * * *

  Midnight shadows swallowed Ilanna as she dropped from the rooftops into the narrow alleyway. With a quick glance around, she slipped down the empty streets. The silence of Old Town Market after dark set her nerves on edge. Something prickled in the back of her neck, as if eyes tracked her movements.

  Impossible. She’d taken a circuitous route across the rooftops to reach her destination. Few in her House had the skill to follow her along the Hawk’s Highway. Besides, the only people with any reason to follow me are the Bloodbears, and they have as much stealth as a Royal Parade. It has to be my imagination.

  Pulling her dark cloak tighter, she hurried along the familiar cobblestone roads. She leapt the wall and crept across the muddy ground without a sound. Testing the door, she found it locked.

  Again, Ria?

  Kneeling, she drew her lockpicks from her bracer and inserted them into the lock. Her fingers moved with dexterity as she teased the tumblers open. The lodestone on her bracer held the multiple picks and rakes she needed for the job. After a few minutes, the lock opened with a click that echoed loud in the darkness.

  The door opened and closed on well-oiled hinges, and Ilanna shot the deadbolt behind her. She crept up the stairs in silence.

  The sound of heavy breathing filled the upstairs room. A sliver of moonlight shone on smooth ebony skin, a thick nose, and full lips. Dark eyes opened, and the girl in the bed jerked upright as she caught sight of Ilanna standing in the doorway.

  “Easy, Ria!” Ilanna held up her hands. “It’s just me.”

  “Ilanna?” Ria removed her hand from beneath her pillow—from the dagger she kept hidden.

  “The doors are locked. You’re safe.”

  Ria pulled the covers to her chest. Her eyes followed Ilanna’s movements with their usual wariness.

  Ilanna studied the sleeping form huddled beneath the pile of blankets. She smiled at the quiet snore that rose from the boy. From her pouch, she drew a small tin figurine: a hawk with wings spread wide. She bent and kissed her child’s forehead. For you, my little hawk. The scent of his sweat-soaked hair and face drove all thoughts of the Guild from her mind.

  Ria made to stand but Ilanna held out a hand. “Stay with him, please. Kodyn always sleeps better when you’re here.”

  With a nod, Ria curled up beside the boy. Her hand slipped under the pillow, to the blade she never slept without.

  Aware of Ria’s eyes tracking her movements, Ilanna draped a blanket over the nearby stuffed chair and sat. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the chair’s back as her fingers toyed with one of Kodyn’s black curls. The boy’s presence felt like a soothing balm that erased all trace of disgust at Allon’s touch.

  This child—her child—gave her a reason to endure Allon’s pawing and grunting, to face danger every time she crept into another mansion. She would do what she must, for his sake.

  Chapter Four

  Ilanna jerked awake. Her right hand flashed toward her bracer, and she’d half-drawn the dagger before she recognized her surroundings. Motes of dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the window. Blankets and pillows lay in disorder on the now empty bed. The sound of childish laughter drifted up the stairs.

  She sat up and groaned at the twinge in her neck. Standing, she rolled her shoulders to loosen the kinks. I’ve got to get Ria to start sleeping somewhere other than my bed, at least on those few nights I can make it home.

  Shielding her eyes from the too-bright daylight, she threw the blankets, sheets, and pillows into place on her bed. She hadn’t slept there in months—not since Ria—but it belonged to her nonetheless.

  Ilanna stretched and her arms brushed the low ceiling. Funny how it felt so much larger when I was young. Her eyes fell on the mirror that still sat on the table where she’d brushed her hair the day her father sold her to the Night Guild fifteen long years before.

  She smiled at the familiar creak of the stairs as she descended. So many memories.

  The sitting room below looked cheerier than it had when she lived here. Carved wooden toys littered the floor and Ria had draped colorful blankets over the plush armchair where Ilanna had spent hours sewing clothes to earn the few coins her father had spent on liquor.

  The bright Voramian rug in the center of the room hid bloodstains—all that remained of Sabat. That, and the memories of his shrieks as she hacked and slashed at him with the same knife he’d used to kill Ethen, his grunts as he forced himself on her. The cruel Bloodbear apprentice tormented her even from the grave. She slept little. Her duties as a Hawk kept her busy, but whenever she closed her eyes, she saw his face, heard his screams. She’d relived Sabat’s death countless times in the last five years. It woke her in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat, gasping for breath. It brought a hard, co
ld smile to her face, served as a reminder of her weakness. She would never be weak again.

  Through the open door, she caught a glimpse of Kodyn playing with his carved hawks in the muddy garden. Ria sat beside him, clad in a comfortable, long-sleeved shirt, her finger trailing in the soil as Kodyn chattered like a sparrow.

  Ilanna studied the dark-skinned girl in the garden. She’s looking more relaxed these days. Ria sat straight, her shoulders free of the hunch that had plagued her for months. Her eyes still had the guarded look Ilanna knew only too well, but the tension in her face and mouth had lessened. Hard to believe she’s the same girl I found in that brothel almost a year ago. She’d actually begun to smile when talking with Kodyn.

  Ilanna’s stomach tightened as she strode into the kitchen. Her gaze darted to the head of the table. Once, her father’s moldering corpse had occupied the seat of honor. She’d replaced the furniture, hurled his rotted remains into a pile of debris, but she would never truly erase that faint, lingering musk of death from her memory.

  She plucked an apple from the bowl on the table, drew one of her knives, and sliced the fruit into pieces. The herbs hanging by the windowsill filled the room with a clean, fresh smell. Taking a deep breath, Ilanna sat back and savored the tart apple.

  She had to get back to the Guild, had to start planning her entry to Count Chatham’s mansion. But for a few moments, she wanted to sit and bask in the quiet peace of her home.

  Such an odd thought. My home.

  She’d spent the first eight years of her life in this house with her father, mother, and sister. Baby Rose had died the same day as Mama. Her father had blamed her for the deaths. A year before, he’d borrowed from the Night Guild to pay the physicker’s fees when she broke her arm. When he couldn’t pay the debt, the Guild came calling. The beating left him unable to work and the pain drove him to drink. He hadn’t stopped drinking. The memory of her father’s bloated, rotting corpse disturbed her far less than it should. He’d deserved the miserable death after what he did to her, selling his own daughter to thugs, murderers, and thieves.

  Finding the deed to the house had proven impossible. She had the skill to break into every money-lender’s office in the city. But without knowing who claimed the property after her father’s death, she had no idea where to begin the search.

  She’d turned to House Hound—specifically, Journeyman Allon, Master Hawk’s nephew. Allon had done in two weeks what she’d failed to do in three months. Upon presenting her with the deed, he’d refused payment for his services. Instead, he insisted he wanted nothing more than to share a drink with the most beautiful woman in the Night Guild. Of course, he’d intended to turn one drink into many, but Ilanna held him to his word. With a roguish grin, he kissed her hand and bade her goodnight.

  Master Hawk held affection for few, but his Hound nephew counted among them. At the next House meeting, he’d assigned her first skull-headed dagger. She had a way to raise her standing in her House Master’s eyes.

  Allon had pursued her with fierce determination that almost matched her resistance to his advances. But even a man had his limits. After being rebuffed over and over—always with a flirtatious smile—he’d turned his eyes elsewhere. The other women in the Guild made no secret of their desire for the lean man with a charming smile and nimble fingers.

  Ilanna wouldn’t be parted from so valuable a tool. He’d proven useful on many occasions, tracking hard-to-acquire items vital for her jobs, planning secret ways to enter well-guarded mansions, and even locating people she needed found. She could endure his desire for her. She’d survived far worse. Indeed, that desire gave her sway over him. Every time she allowed him to her bed, she gained greater control. The more he wanted her, the more he would consent to being used by her.

  Little feet pounded on the wooden floorboards of the main room and a bundle of muddy clothes and messy hair hurled itself into her lap. “Mama!”

  Ilanna wrapped her arms around the child and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Hello, baby.” She wiped mud from her lips. “You’re a mess!”

  “Ria and I were playing in the garden.” Kodyn thrust a chubby finger toward the open door. “We were building castles and towers and bridges and palaces and…”

  Ilanna listened patiently as he explained about the kingdom he had constructed from mud and the princess trapped in a tower. His words grew harder to understand the more excited he became, but Ilanna tried to follow along.

  “Are you hungry? Want a piece of Mama’s apple?”

  Kodyn snatched the fruit in muddy hands and stuffed it into his mouth. Ilanna gathered him into her arms as he chattered around the mouthful of apple. She had so little time with him—she would make each minute count.

  “Did you bring me a new birdie, Mama?”

  Ilanna nodded. “It’s on the table beside your bed. For my little hawk.”

  The midwife, an ancient, wizened woman with dark skin and stories of her life in a place called the Twelve Kingdoms, had suggested the name Khodein—“hawk” in the language of her people. As a child, he’d spent hours staring at the hawk stitched into her leather vest. For his first toy, she’d sewn scraps of cloth into the shape of the bird and stuffed it with wool. Every time she came, she brought him a new bit of wood, scrimshaw, or stone carved into the likeness of a hawk.

  “Did you see my new birdie, Ria?” His warbling voice grew more animated as the dark-skinned girl entered the kitchen. “Mama said she brought me one. Can we play when we come back from the market? You promised we’d go.”

  The girl nodded and held out a hand. Kodyn wriggled down from Ilanna’s lap, leaving muddy splotches on her clothes, and raced toward Ria.

  “Be careful, Ria.” Ilanna fought back the anxiety building in her chest. “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

  Ria twitched open her coat, revealing a slim dagger hidden in her waistband. With a nod, she allowed the boy to drag her out the door.

  Ilanna drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The nearby Old Town Market was the territory of the Fifth Claw, the toughest, cruelest of the Bloodbear apprentices. Sabat’s gang. Yet she couldn’t keep Kodyn locked in the house. She knew what dangers lurked in the city but could only do so much to protect him. She had to leave the rest to Ria.

  Her heart ached every time she left Kodyn, yet she had no choice. People would grow suspicious if she spent too long away from the Guild. She had to earn her keep. That meant she had to trust the girl to look after Kodyn.

  Ria had proven herself trustworthy. After what the girl had endured, Ilanna knew she would die before letting anything happen to her son.

  Forcing the worries from her mind, Ilanna stood and reached for the earthen jar on the shelf beside the window. Within lay a purse. She spilled the contents into her palm and counted the handful of silver drakes.

  Enough for a few more weeks, but it can’t hurt to add more.

  She drew out two of the golden imperials she’d stolen from Lord Ulimar and dropped them into the purse. Replacing the jar, she strode to the sitting room, knelt beside the fireplace, and pried up the three loose floorboards beneath the rug.

  An iron-bound chest nestled in the small space she’d hollowed out in the foundation. She loosened the knots holding her forearm bracer in place enough to pluck out the hidden key, inserted it, and twisted. The lock opened with a click that sounded oddly loud in the silence of her house. Lifting the lid, she peered at the pile of glimmering metal within.

  Eight thousand, four hundred, and twenty-two imperials. Eight golden coins clinked as she added them to the pile. Make that eight thousand, four hundred, and thirty.

  It was a hefty fortune by the standards of a common Praamian, but nowhere near enough for her. If she wanted to be free of the Night Guild, she’d need at least four or five times that.

  She closed and locked the lid, replaced the floorboards, and smoothed the rug. She scanned the hiding place with a critical eye. No one, not even Ria, could know about it. Its existence
broke Guild law.

  As a Hawk, she was duty-bound to report everything she earned to the Night Guild. Each House kept accounts of their Journeymen’s earnings: each coin stolen, each piece of jewelry fenced. The Guild’s official receiver actually issued receipts she had to deliver to Bryden. The Guild required control over every copper bit of illicit activity in the city. It took the lion’s share of her earnings, leaving her with a meager ten percent.

  Bryden’s accounts held a record of Ilanna’s official wealth: four thousand, six hundred and fifty imperials. The amount grew each month courtesy of kickbacks from the Crown. She added to it every time she went out on a job.

  If she followed Guild law, she would never earn enough money to be free. So she failed to report all her income to Bryden. A risky gamble, but she had no choice. She wouldn’t let Kodyn fall into the Guild’s clutches. She had only a few more years to take him—and herself—away from Praamis. For that, she needed money.

  Time to get back to the Guild. As a full Journeyman, she could come and go as she pleased, but she had to keep up appearances.

  She paused in the garden to study Kodyn’s mud pile. As always, her eyes drifted toward the tree growing beside the creek that flowed through the property. The tree had flourished since she added Sabat’s body to the soil. A few young flower buds appeared among the dark green leaves. With a cold smile, she vaulted the wall.

  Instead of returning to Old Town Market, she took the longer way around. She wouldn’t risk any Fox or Bloodbear spotting her.

  She slipped into an alley and, with a quick glance to make sure no one saw her, climbed a stack of pallets. She shimmied up a reinforced drainpipe, slipped beneath an overhanging eave, and ducked through a small crack between two buildings. A rope ladder hung from a rooftop two stories above. Within a minute, Ilanna stood on the Hawk’s Highway.

  She filled her lungs with the warm mid-morning air, savored its freshness. She had no reason to rush back to the Guild. Count Chatham’s mansion could wait until tonight. She would enjoy the trek across the rooftops.