Ilanna’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
The smith nodded. “You heard.” She tapped the blueprints. “Only one place in the world makes steel like this: Odaron.”
Jarl sucked in a breath, but the name meant nothing to Ilanna. “Odaron?”
“City of Steel, some call it. A few decades ago, metalsmiths got together with the Secret Keepers to figure out a more efficient way to do things. Combined, the Secret Keepers’ alchemy and the smiths’ metallurgical knowledge produced some scary results. Metals stronger and harder than steel, yet lighter than copper. Metals that can catch fire but don’t burn your hand.” Master Lorilain shook her head. “Some say they discovered the secrets of the ancient Serenii. Whatever happened, they found a way to increase their production of better-quality steel than the rest of Einan.”
“So why not use that?”
“Sure, if you’ve got a few hundred thousand imperials to spare.” Master Lorilain gave a harsh laugh. “They figured out how to produce more of the better-quality steel, but that doesn’t mean they’ll just give it away. You’ll pay more for those steel plates than you will for gold or silver. Odarian steel’s harder to get your hands on, too. Only sold to those with a ‘Lord’ stuck to their name. Even if you used all the Night Guild’s connections”—her eyes grew as hard and sharp as the axes hanging on the wall—“you’d only get a score of sheets here before the end of the year. Odarians are bloody stingy with their resources.”
Ilanna’s heart sank. “So you’re telling me it’s impossible.”
“Not quite, but the next closest thing.” The smith turned back to the blueprints. “The fact that these plans call for Odarian steel means you’re dealing with something big—something I prob’ly want no part of. The last thing I want is to call attention to myself by doing anything of this nature.”
Ilanna opened her mouth to speak, but the smith didn’t stop.
“That being said, I’m pretty sure I know why you brought this to me.” She pointed at Jarl. “This one’s not sure he’s got the chops to build this monster of a vault door. That about right?”
Jarl nodded.
Master Lorilain drummed her fingers on the table. “Here’s what the Night Guild’s gold’ll get you.” She held up two fingers. “I’ll build your vault door. Judging by these plans, it’s a much simpler task, though one that’ll take me a good few weeks of work. We can make it out of high-carbon Voramian steel. Not a whole lot cheaper than Odarian steel—we’ll just need a whole lot less of it.”
Ilanna thrust her chin at the second finger. “And?”
“And I’ll give some thought as to your predicament of getting in or out of that vault room.” The smith gave her a calculating grin. “Assuming you’d be interested in that sort of thing.”
Ilanna nodded. “Could be your help would prove useful. I’d certainly pay well for information.”
“Good.” Master Lorilain held out a hand to Jarl. “Be good to work with you again.”
Ilanna gripped the smith’s hand before Jarl could. “You’ll be working with me. And I’m not his ‘girlie’.”
Master Lorilain’s grip tightened, but Ilanna kept her face impassive. The muscles in her forearms, hardened from years of climbing ropes and stone walls, bunched as she returned the crushing force. For long moments, neither spoke but simply held the posture and the unyielding stare.
The smith broke eye contact and the grip first. “So be it.” She gave a slight grin and turned to Jarl. “Prob’ly for the best she’s not your girl, Jarl. She’s a good deal more than you c’n handle.”
Jarl muttered under his breath. “More than you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ILANNA SLID INTO a stuffed armchair with a weary huff. She’d spent the last week surveying Lord Auslan’s mansion from every conceivable angle. The lack of sleep and results had her on edge.
The door opened and the sound of four booted feet echoed in the room.
Ilanna didn’t bother opening her eyes. “I hope you’ve something useful to tell me.”
When no reply came, she stood and walked over to the table. Veslund shook his shaggy head. “Not a lot of information on Lord Auslan.”
“Aye,” Joost added. “From what we’ve seen, there’s three types of people enterin’ his estate: fellow noblemen, his servants, and scores of the Duke’s Arbitors.”
Ilanna chewed her lip. “No tradesmen, merchants, or carts of foodstuffs? Surely even an Old Praamian has to eat.”
Joost shook his head. “Auslan’s servants do all the haulin’. They have their own wagon for bringin’ in goods.” He gave a frustrated growl. “Place is buttoned up tighter than a miser’s pocket.”
Ilanna nodded. She’d come to the same conclusion over the last week. The blue-clad, spike-helmed Arbitors came and went as they pleased, but Lord Auslan’s servants only left the mansion once a week. The Arbitors subjected them to a thorough search before being allowed in or out.
“Any unguarded entrances into the mansion complex?”
Veslund shrugged. “None we’ve found yet. Problem is, there are sections of the mansion wall we can’t get at. Damned Arbitors are too sharp.”
Ilanna stifled her annoyance. The rooftops of Lord Auslan’s neighbors gave her an unobstructed view into the property, and what she saw hadn’t encouraged her.
The estate stood at the end of the cul-de-sac that was Old Praamis. Twenty of the Duke’s Arbitors held the mansion complex’s two entrances: the main gate, where the fancy carriages of Lord Auslan’s guests entered; and the postern gate for the servants. The wall around Lord Auslan’s mansion rose at least four or five man-heights, with a team of sentries walking the parapets day and night.
If they somehow managed to get over, under, or through the wall, Lord Auslan’s estate would prove a far greater challenge. A broad, tree-lined avenue connected the main entrance to the mansion itself. Even after dark, torches provided clear lines of sight in all directions.
Thick hedges of blackthorn cordoned off the main avenue and hid Lord Auslan’s private gardens from his visitors. The thorns served as a secondary wall, running around the interior of the property like a twisted, torturous maze. If she somehow managed to cut through, she still had to contend with the five groups of four guards that patrolled the expansive gardens and Lord Auslan’s private quay on the Stannar River. A broad lawn surrounded the house, a wide-open, torchlit space she had little hope of crossing unseen.
And that was before she reached the mansion itself. The construction stood four stories high and spread out hundreds of paces along the river’s edge. She had no clue where she would find Lord Auslan’s vault.
One problem at a time.
“What do you think of the northeast?”
The northeastern side of Lord Auslan’s estate was the one area she hadn’t been able to study. The Duke’s Arbitors rarely ventured in that direction—they had no need. The wall abutted the Field of Mercy, in plain view of the Praamian Guards who stood in Watcher’s Square.
Joost cringed. “Not a grubbin’ chance we’re going near that.” Veslund’s emphatic nod set his shock of hair bobbing.
The thought of going near Watcher’s Square and the Field of Mercy twisted Ilanna’s stomach in knots. She had no desire to see the place where her friends had faced the Duke’s justice. But she had to consider all possible avenues of entrance, no matter how unpleasant.
“I’ve been thinking,” Veslund said, scratching his beard, “and I ain’t sure I understand how ye plan to pull all this off. Say we manage, by the Mistress’ own luck, to get inside that mansion. Ye figure out that great big vault door, and we get our hands on that golden coffin. Then what? How in Derelana’s tits do we get it out of there?”
Ilanna met the Fox’s gaze. “I have a plan for that.”
When she offered no more, Veslund growled. “Well, what is it?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. The fewer who know, the less likely the wrong person’ll find
out.”
Veslund bristled. “Ye saying I can’t be trusted?” He loomed over her, eyes flashing.
Ilanna didn’t back down. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“But ye won’t tell us the plan.” Spittle flew with Veslund’s words. “Like ye expect we can’t keep it to ourselves.”
“Tell me, Veslund, have you ever had too much to drink?”
Joost snorted beside her.
Veslund colored. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Ever found yourself boasting about some great feat of skill or strength?”
Veslund hesitated, but nodded.
Ilanna stepped toward him. “Now, let’s say you find yourself trying to match a fellow drink for drink, exploit for exploit. He’s one-upped you, and you’re looking for a way to even the score. What’s to stop you from hinting at the greatest heist in the history of the Night Guild?”
“Well, if that ain’t a—”
Joost cut him off. “She’s got you there, Ves. Don’t think I haven’t heard you tradin’ tales with the Third Claw Bloodbears or those fellas from Grey Fox.”
Ilanna looked up into the bearded Fox’s eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Ves. I don’t trust anyone. The fewer who know the plan, the less risk someone’ll say it in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Veslund’s mouth hung open, but his anger deflated. “Pah!”
“Come on, Ves.” Joost wrapped his arm around his fellow Fox’s broad shoulders. “Let’s put you to the test and see if’n you can hold your tongue after a few mugs of ale.”
Veslund perked up at the mention of ale and allowed himself to be drawn away.
“Just don’t have too many,” Ilanna called after them. “You’ve work to do.”
Joost’s voice floated back to her. “Lord Auslan’s mansion will still be there tomorrow.” The door swung shut before she could retort.
Stifling her frustration—at the two Foxes and the lack of results—Ilanna bent over the rough outline of Lord Auslan’s estate she’d helped Allon sketch out. Veslund and Joost provided her with the street-level view of the complex, but their understanding was as limited as their attention span.
They understood things in length and width, only perceived as far as their feet could walk or their eyes could see. She saw Praamis in a way none of the others did or could. Allon and his fellow Hounds understood the advantages. They moved around beneath the city, where the confines of walls and houses meant little. Deep underground, they had to rely on their sense of direction.
But from the rooftops, Ilanna could see in every direction. What others saw as obstacles, she used as stepping stones to cross Praamis far faster than anyone on the streets below. The higher the building, the greater the vantage point it provided. The height of Lord Auslan’s walls meant little to her when she sat atop the six-story mansion beside it.
Fatigue turned the world to a blur. She rubbed her eyes. Exhaustion threatened to dull her mind; she needed sleep to keep a clear head, but she couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that nagged in the back of her mind. The look on Master Hawk’s face at the last House meeting told her something was wrong. Judging by Master Gold’s drawn expression, it had something to do with the Bloody Hand. The Guild Master had said the Voramians would return, demanding instead of requesting. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to carry out the Duke’s job as soon as possible—they’d reach “too late” before long.
She half-jumped as the door opened.
Allon’s smile faltered as he strode up to the table. “Bloody hell, Ilanna, you look awful.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a scathing look.
“When was the last time you slept?”
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Too many things to do.”
“Don’t make me haul you off to your room. I can, you know.” He took a step toward her.
Instinct kicked in and Ilanna’s hand flashed to her dagger. At the sight of his half-grin, she stopped herself from baring steel. She forced her face to mirror his expression. “Just you try, Hound.”
Allon held up his hands. “At least promise me you’ll grab an hour or two of sleep before you head back out there.”
Ilanna wanted to protest, but a wave of exhaustion set her wobbling. She waved away Allon’s steadying hand. “Fine, you win.” She straightened. “Tell me you have some good news.”
Allon winced. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Let me hear it anyway.”
Allon took a deep breath. “I’ve talked to half of my contacts and come away with little more than we already knew. The one thing everyone tells me is that they can’t remember the last time Lord Auslan stepped foot outside his mansion. The man is a total recluse. The only parties he attends are the ones he hosts. He runs his business using private couriers.” He shook his head. “Don’t bother thinking about using them as a cover to get in. They’re all in service to the Duke, just like the Arbitors.”
Ilanna bit back a frustrated curse. “What else?”
“From what little I can gather, his mansion is like a maze. Lord Beritane said he got lost walking from the front door to the ballroom.” He snorted. “Of course, when you’re on your eighth bottle of wine, you tend to forget a lot of things.”
“Don’t worry about the interior of the house.”
Allon cocked his head. “Why not?”
Ilanna gave him a sly smile. “Let’s just say I know a man.”
The Hound waited for her to add more, but she gave him nothing. He shrugged. “I’ll keep digging for any tidbits I can find out about Lord Auslan. Don’t hold your breath, though.”
Ilanna nodded. “Between you and Errik, I’m sure we’ll come up with what we need to know. I can try to talk to Master Gold, too.” Now she had the excuse she needed to speak with the Guild Master. “Whatever it costs, Allon, I’ll pay. We have to find out everything about Lord Auslan.”
“Your will, my lady.” Grinning, he swept a bow. He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “How’s Jarl getting along with that map?”
“Like a miser in a pool of gold.”
Allon grinned. “I’ll pop down and see if he needs help. I remembered a few things that might help him set up our escape route.”
“Our?” Ilanna cocked an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean.”
Ilanna bit back the sharp words that sprang to her mind. “I do. Just don’t take too long down there. I need information more than I need a filthy, sewage-covered Hound.”
Allon grimaced. “Don’t remind me. Now, before I go, promise me you’ll get some rest. You look like the Long Keeper’s paler cousin.”
Ilanna growled. “That how you talk to a lady?”
“When she looks like she’s been sleeping on her feet for a week and refuses to listen to wisdom, sure.” His expression grew somber. “I mean it, Ilanna. You can’t let the burden of this job get to you. You have to take care of yourself. We’re all depending on you.”
Ilanna wanted to argue, but she lacked the strength. “Fine. I’ll rest.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear.” With a wink, he strode from the room.
Ilanna had said the words with no intention of following through, but the idea of rest had suddenly grown more appealing than Lord Auslan’s gold. She needed at least a few hours’ sleep.
Stowing the blueprints and sketches, Ilanna locked the door and shambled yawning through the tunnels toward her room. She didn’t bother lighting a lamp or removing her clothes, but slipped straight into her bed. A groan escaped her lips at the comforting warmth of the blankets. Reaching under her pillow, she drew out a threadbare, wool-stuffed cloth hawk. She’d made the toy for her infant son, but Kodyn had outgrown the toy a year earlier. She hadn’t. Traces of his smell lingered on the fabric.
Exhaustion played tricks with her mind. Thoughts of Lord Auslan’s mansion blurred with images of her entry into the Coin Counters’ Temple. Grey-clad Reckoner
s in silver breastplates chased her through twisting corridors and into a hedge of thornbushes that tore at her flesh.
Then she stood in a garden. Kodyn ran toward her with outstretched arms and her heart soared at the sight of her child. She raced toward him, scooped him into an embrace. A tall, swarthy girl in long-sleeved robes of a brilliant blue to match the sky smiled at her. Warmth flooded Ilanna, and sleep claimed her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ILANNA AWOKE IN darkness. For a moment, she was trapped inside the Treasure Room, desperate for air. The inky blackness pressed in on her. Panic dug painful fingers into her mind and set her heart racing.
Her dreams faded and reality asserted itself. She fumbled for the lever to turn on the alchemical lamp sitting on her bedside table. Her questing fingers felt parchment, and icy feet danced down her spine. She leapt from the bed and drew a dagger in one smooth motion. Panting, her eyes darted about, seeking an enemy.
Was the note there before I fell asleep, or after? Had someone slipped into her room while she slept, stood over her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She’d been so vulnerable.
Not releasing her dagger, she found and lit the lamp. Her hands trembled as she opened the note and read the written words. Lord Ralston.
Her sleep-numbed mind took a moment to recognize the name. She’d delivered the skull-headed dagger to the mansion in Old Praamis over a year ago, had received her monthly payoff from the Crown.
Why is Master Gold sending me there? Surely there are better people to visit.
Lord Ralston was descended from one of the oldest families in the city, but had little wealth outside his vast real estate investments in Nysl. She’d be lucky to come away with a hundred imperials in coin.
She buckled on a brace of daggers, threw on her cloak, and rushed to the Aerie. If Master Gold needed the money urgently enough to send such a clear message, she had to deliver. The shadows in his eyes at their last meeting had hinted at ill-concealed anxieties. If the Bloody Hand had returned, she was running out of time.
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