Thief of the Night Guild
Book Two in the Queen of Thieves Series
Andy Peloquin
Copyright © 2017 by Andy Peloquin
Kindle Edition
Text by Andy Peloquin
Published by Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Author’s Notes
Also by Andy Peloquin
Coming October 2017
About the Author
Acknowledgements
To all the people who played a vital role in the creation of this book: Suzan, Maura, Claire, Matt, Patricia, Donna, Lavern, Lily, Heidi, and many more. I cannot thank you enough!
Chapter One
THE DAGGER TWITCHED in Ilanna’s fingers as she watched Lord Ulimar’s chest rise and fall. A quick cut and the foolish noble would never wake. The sleeping draught she’d dripped into his gaping mouth would keep him in the realm of dreams even as he bled out.
But if the Night Guild wanted Lord Ulimar dead, they’d have sent a Serpent. Clean and quiet. Or messy, as the job demanded. Ilanna was a Hawk; she’d come for another reason.
She drove the dagger into the bedside table with a thunk. Moonlight glinted off the silver skull pommel, the ruby eyes twinkling. When Lord Ulimar awoke, a headache from the sleeping draught would be the least of his concerns. The dagger sent a message: the Night Guild had marked him for death.
Ilanna almost pitied him. Poor bastard has no idea the real reason it’s here. He’d work himself into a panic struggling to understand what he’d done to earn the Guild’s ire. Little did he know, the Guild had no reason to wish him dead; they cared only for his money.
If that doesn’t drive him into the Crown’s arms, he’s braver than most.
Turning her back on the sleeping nobleman, Ilanna drew two miniature glass orbs from her pouch; quickfire globes, a Hawk’s best friend in the darkness. Light glimmered as she touched them together. Holding them high, she ran a practiced eye over the ornate armoire, the iron-bound chest at the foot of the canopied bed, and the tapestries on the wall.
Now where would you hide your true valuables, Lord Ulimar?
She paced the room on soft-soled boots, her keen ears listening for any sound. She snorted at the telltale creak of a floorboard. Drawing a dagger from her bracer, she slipped it into the crack and pried the wood loose. Within lay half a dozen velvet purses.
She grinned. And it’s not even my nameday!
Ilanna counted out twenty golden imperials and slipped them inside her belt pouch, then replaced them with ten of her special lead coins. They weighed significantly less than gold specie, but Lord Ulimar would only notice the missing money if he tried to spend the coins. She stuffed the purse into the bottom of the hoard. Unless the nobleman’s finances took a very hard hit, he’d never discover the theft.
Replacing the floorboard, she drew a vial of dust and sprinkled some on the floor. Just enough to hide the fact the board had been moved. Her miniature rake combed the threads of the plush Al Hani rug into place behind her, obscuring her bootprints.
Lord Ulimar would find no trace of anyone entering his house, save for the dagger a hand’s breadth from his nose.
Ilanna slipped out of the nobleman’s bedroom and glanced down the hall. One floor down, the lantern of the night watchman drove back the shadows and the tromp, tromp of heavy booted feet sounded loud in the silent house.
She tensed as the sound grew louder. The watchman was supposed to head downstairs, not up! Stifling a curse, she slipped behind a pillar and held her breath. The light of a lantern spilled down the hallway. Her shoulders tightened as the beam pointed toward the door of Lord Ulimar’s bedroom. She ran her thumb along the hilt of one of the four daggers in her bracer. If he didn’t move along…
The lantern drifted away and the watchman whistled a mournful tune as he descended the stairs. Ilanna let out her breath in a slow exhale.
Too close. I’m lucky he’s too lazy to check every room.
She moved when the light disappeared, slipping into Lord Ulimar’s study. She didn’t bother closing the door but shimmied up her black rope without a sound. A few seconds later, she stood atop the mansion roof.
Ilanna ran over everything that had happened since she’d entered half an hour earlier. Had she forgotten anything? She never did. It was what made her different from the other Hawks, what made her the best.
All Hawks carried out these assignments for the Night Guild; “shanking the fool” Lem called them. Some liked to ransack a mark’s home and steal anything they could get their hands on. Ilanna thought that nonsense. Yes, any man would feel fear upon finding his house raided, but her way had proven far more effective.
No one ever saw her enter or leave, she left no sign of her passage. Lord Ulimar’s guards could search the mansion top to bottom and find only the dagger. Humans c
ouldn’t walk through walls, couldn’t enter without a trace. Ghosts could. And if ghosts served the Night Guild, Lord Ulimar would have no choice but to beg the Crown to protect him. The vulnerability, betrayal, and paranoia engendered by the message from the Night Guild would send any nobleman running to whoever offered protection.
Two hours of work had earned the Guild a hundred imperials a month, paid by King Ohilmos himself. House Hawk and the Crown had a beautiful partnership, one that earned her a cool ten percent of the profits—and that didn’t count the imperials she’d stolen from Lord Ulimar.
A good night, indeed.
Kneeling, Ilanna replaced the pane of glass she’d removed earlier and applied a thin line of Darreth’s quick-drying caulk. It would hold out the rain but she’d have no trouble scraping it away next time she wanted to enter Lord Ulimar’s mansion. He had many, many more purses for her to empty.
Of course, she’d have to do it without the Guild finding out. Nobles who paid for the Crown’s protection were exempt from depredation. King Ohilmos more than compensated the Guild to keep its Journeymen in line. If caught, she’d hang. Worse, she’d face punishment at the hands of her own House. No one broke the Guild’s laws.
But Ilanna knew better. The Guild had only one law she needed to remember: don’t get caught. She’d learned that the hard way. She fingered the leather strap curled around her right wrist; it brought back the painful memory of Ethen. He’d taught her how to use the sling. She couldn’t bring herself to use it, not after that night, but she kept it close. She wanted it to remember him, to remember what had happened and what she’d done to the bastard who’d laid his hands on her.
Padding across the rooftop, Ilanna slipped into her harness and threw herself off the edge of the mansion. The metal rings sang as she sped across the aerial runway. The world flashed past at a tremendous speed and she bit back a delighted laugh. Years roaming the rooftops of Praamis hadn’t dulled the thrill of flying. No one but a Hawk knew the true joy of seeing the world from above.
Her harness jerked as the metal rings snagged on the secondary rope. With deft movements, Ilanna unclipped the carabiner from the rope. She slid out of the harness and stuffed it into a satchel left beneath the eaves of a nearby roof. Jarl or one of the other Pathfinders would be along soon to remove the rope that bridged the gap to Lord Ulimar’s mansion.
Now to return to the Guild and let Master Hawk know the mission was a success.
After the stealth and silence of Lord Ulimar’s mansion, Ilanna couldn’t resist the urge to run free. She raced across the rooftops of Praamis, vaulting obstacles and swinging through open air. Muscles strengthened by years of training cushioned the impact of long drops and pulled her lithe, compact body up walls twice her height. Her leather harness, bracer, and boots made no sound as she raced along the Hawk’s Highway.
The wind tugged a few strands of her long, dark hair free of its tight tail. Her grey cloak streamed behind her. She felt like a bird flying through the night. Up here, she was alone with the moon, stars, and sky.
She hesitated at the entrance to House Hawk. The oppressive air of the Guild tunnels held little appeal after the cool breeze and star-filled heavens. But it was more than that. Down in the maze of passages, she would have to face people. She would have to face men.
Just a few more minutes.
She sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling. The first rays of sunlight trickled over the horizon. The dull grey of dawn crept closer with every heartbeat.
As ever, her eyes sought out the towering Black Spire that rose high above Praamis. Once, the tower had challenged the Night Guild, mocked the thieves with its impregnability. Since Master Gold’s success many years ago, every Guild member who wanted to make a name for themselves had attempted to break in. All had failed. All but her.
For her Undertaking, she had defeated the Black Spire. It had nearly killed her, but she’d survived the ascent and descent of the tower and brought back proof of her success—a golden pin that once belonged to Journeyman Callidis, a Hawk who’d died in a failed attempt. She had proven herself worthy of the Hawk name. She’d earned her place as a Journeyman.
Now, the Black Spire looked small, almost pitiful. The monument—a remnant of the ancient Serenii, some said—no longer mocked her with its impossible heights. It stood as testament to Ilanna’s skill and ingenuity. Any time members of the Night Guild looked up at the obsidian tower, they would think of her.
Taking a deep breath, Ilanna climbed to her feet and ducked through the window that led to the Aerie. Lanterns shining far below illuminated the familiar maze of ropes, ladders, and wooden walkways of the Perch.
She’d spent countless hours high above the packed earth floor of House Hawk. In the Aerie, she’d found a home, friends, something that came close to replacing the family she’d lost the day her mother and baby Rose died. The Aerie held many good memories. Bad ones, too.
She swooped through the Perch at a speed Ilanna the apprentice would have found terrifying. That girl had been young, scared, weak. Journeyman Ilanna of House Hawk was none of those things. She’d proven her strength when she defeated the Black Spire, when she hacked Sabat to pieces with the same blade he used on her friend.
She fingered the leather strap around her wrist. Ilanna the scared little girl had died the same day as Ethen.
Chapter Two
“…WHICH LEAVES US with just enough to cover House Hawk’s dues to the Guild, plus a surplus to invest in new gear. Of course, that calls into question the decision of what to…”
Ilanna didn’t bother to stifle her yawn. Good gods! Will he ever shut up? Journeyman Bryden had a tendency to drone on. Even after a full night of sleep—and those had become as rare as a clever idea in a Bloodbear’s brain—he had a near-magical ability to put her to sleep. Judging by the slumped posture of the other Journeymen, she wasn’t the only one to find Bryden tedious on his better days.
Bryden, a middle-aged Hawk going soft in the gut and grey at the temples, trailed off mid-sentence and fixed her with an irritated glare. “Sorry, Ilanna, is all this boring you? I apologize for interrupting one so important as yourself with the inconsequential matters of keeping this House running!”
Once, Ilanna would have wilted beneath the scorn of Master Hawk’s second-in-command. Her composure didn’t crack as she gave a lazy wave. “Truly, Bryden, I couldn’t be more interested in discussing what material you’ll choose for our clothing or what shade of brown thread will be stitched into the Hawk insignia. I simply speak out of concern for the others, some of whom may find this conversation falls squarely in the realm of inane. Unless you need reassurance that you’re doing your job properly, of course.”
“Ilanna!” Master Hawk’s voice cut off Bryden’s retort. He narrowed his dark eyes and leaned forward in his chair. “Do us the courtesy of showing your fellow Journeymen the respect they are due.”
“Of course, Master Hawk.” Ilanna inclined her head at the House Master and gave Bryden an elaborate seated bow. “By all means, Bryden, enchant us with your tales of accountancy and stewardship.”
Bryden scowled at her but Master Hawk held up a hand. “If you please, Bryden, skip to any matters of real importance.” His voice held a note of weariness matched by the droop of his slim eyebrows. “Those that must be discussed by all Hawks.”
“Of course.” Bryden gave a stiff nod and flipped through his book. “Ah.” He ran a finger down the page. “I have tallied the monthly haul, and you’ll be pleased to know House Hawk is wealthier than ever. Payoffs from the Crown have increased ten percent since this time last year. Our nights are proving more lucrative as well.”
His lips twisted into a grimace and he studiously avoided glancing at Ilanna. He knew—as did everyone else in the room—that she brought in more coin than any other Hawk. Her earnings had surpassed the rest of her House every month for the last two years.
“That is welcome news, Bryden.” Master Hawk rubbed his grizzled, angular
face. “If that is all…?”
With a bow, Bryden limped back to his seat beside Master Hawk.
The House Master gazed around the room. “Does anyone else have any business of importance to the House?”
None of the twenty-odd Journeymen spoke. They’re only too glad to be free of Bryden’s inanities!
“So be it.” Master Hawk drew a scroll from within his robes and turned to Ilanna. “Lord Ulimar has received the message?”
She nodded. “By this time tomorrow, he’ll be licking the King’s feet in exchange for the Crown’s protection.”
“Good.” The House Master studied his scroll. “That’s one more name off the list. Four more nobles to…convince before the month’s out. King Ohilmos is very concerned for the safety of his wealthiest citizens.”
A collective chuckle ran around the circle of seated Hawks. King Ohilmos paid the Guild to encourage his nobles to request royal protection—for a fee, of course. Ilanna still found the notion of Crown-sanctioned thievery odd, but if it earned her the coin she needed, she could live with it.
Most Houses despised the Hawks for their wealth. Ilanna hadn’t noticed it until she’d sat in the Guild Council for the first time. House Serpent’s assassinations earned them coin on par with House Hawk, but not even House Scorpion’s poisons and potions or House Hound’s bounties fully covered the cost of their Guild fees. The thugs of House Bloodbear wore their rough vests and tunics with pride, and House Fox’s members seemed more comfortable in their homespun wool, threadbare cloaks, and boots with more holes than a wheel of Nyslian cheese. The Journeymen and tyros of House Grubber looked one missed meal from the Long Keeper’s embrace.
All the other Houses—save, perhaps, for House Serpent—envied the wealth of House Hawk. Ilanna had broken more than a few bones after hearing the names some Journeymen and apprentices gave the Hawks. The Crown’s gold meant little to her, but she wouldn’t let anyone slander her House.
At a motion from Master Hawk, Journeymen Ellick—a short, slim man in his fourth decade—stood and handed the House Master a steel case. From within, Master Hawk drew four of the skull-headed daggers.
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