Though they’d crossed Lower Voramis in less than an hour, her back ached from the nervous tension tightening her spine. The rational part of her knew the Bloody Hand couldn’t know of their presence, but she still half-expected thugs to jump out from every shadow and alleyway. She’d channeled all her self-control into keeping her hands away from the daggers hidden in the bracer she wore under the flowing homespun dress that completed her merchant’s wife disguise. She’d squeezed Kodyn’s hawk figurine so tight she fancied she could hear the bird screaming. Judging by the lines around Errik’s eyes, the Serpent hadn’t enjoyed their trek through Voramis either.
A wrinkled face appeared from behind the counter. “Welcome to The Angry Goblin, my young friends. I am Lornys, the proprietor of this humble establishment.”
Lornys resembled a male version of Journeyman Donneh—his head barely reached Ilanna’s chest, and his spectacles made his green eyes appear far too large for his bald head—but with three times as many wrinkles and no furry pet.
“Tell me,” he said, spreading his liver-spotted hands wide, “what sort of book have you come in search of today? Perhaps one of the classics, like The Journey of Man by Q’orn Goldentongue. Or are you the sort of man who delights in the philosophical, such as the journals of Master Qi Pe Pe, Divine Teacher of Tian’shen?”
Ilanna stepped forward. “Do you tell fortunes?”
The little man shook his head. “Unfortunately, we do not.”
Ilanna pointed a thumb at the sign outside. “Your sign there says—”
“I know what it says!” Lornys waggled a finger. “But it’s nothing more than the last remnants of the former owner of this establishment. The fool actually believed he could tell the future—something only the gods can do. If my useless nitwit of an assistant wasn’t so busy burying his nose in the works of Taivoro, he’d finally get around to taking it down.” He rolled his eyes and gave a despairing sigh. “Now, are you certain I can’t interest you in anything to read? We’ve just received some excellent volumes from—”
“We were sent by Journeyman Donneh of House Scorpion.”
To Lornys’ credit, his eyes only widened a hair’s breadth. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Ilanna grinned. “She said you’d say something like that. She also said to tell you, ‘It’s your turn to wear the baboon’s arse, you long-nosed gibbon’.”
Lornys spluttered and muttered a string of curses that made Ilanna’s ears sting. “She swore she’d never say a thing!”
Ilanna desperately wanted to know the story behind it but had the good sense to say, “And she hasn’t. But she knew it would convince you I’m for real.”
Lornys studied her up and down. “Look real enough to me.” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes stopping just below the level of her neck.
“Oi!” Ilanna snapped her fingers. “We’ve come a long way to have our fortune’s told. Now, can we get on with it or do you need to look a bit more?”
Lornys gave her a lascivious wink. “Never hurts to look.” At Ilanna’s growl, he threw up his hands. “Easy, girlie. You’re far too young for me. Bit too short, for that matter.”
Errik failed to stifle his laughter. Ilanna rewarded him with a sharp poke in the ribs, eliciting a grunt.
Lornys’ face broadened in a good-natured grin. “This way, you two.” His hand disappeared beneath the counter. Ilanna tensed at the click, her hand flashing to her dagger, her body preparing to spring from the path of the hidden danger.
“Easy, lass.” The shelf behind Lornys swung to one side. The little man disappeared into a back room, and Ilanna and Errik followed.
Dried herbs and spices hung on the walls, and a gruesome collection of skulls, bones, and animal corpses littered the shelves in the back room. Glass bottles filled with liquids and potions of every conceivable hue sat in neat rows in a cabinet. A middle-aged man wearing an ink-stained robe and reading spectacles hunched over a dilapidated table.
“Graeme, you lazy sack of swill, get out to the front room.”
Startled, the man jumped, the book falling to the floor. He colored all the way to his receding hairline. “Master Lornys, I-I—”
“I-I…” Lornys mocked his assistant. “If you’d spend less time studying the erotic works of Taivoro and more time reading something useful, perhaps you’d be able to string together a coherent sentence. Now off with you. Mind the front while I deal with this matter.”
Graeme ducked his head and rushed from the room. Ilanna felt a stab of pity for the assistant.
“Worthless lout.” Lornys lifted his eyes heavenward. “If I wasn’t so enamored with his mother, I’d throw him out on his ear. Can’t brew a gods-damned love potion! Last time he tried, he broke out in pox and lost his memory for three days!” He climbed onto the stool Graeme had fled, removed his glasses, and cleaned them with a corner of his robe. “So, tell me what I can do for Journeyman Donneh.”
“She needs you to get me into the Temple of Whispers.”
For a moment, the little man just stared at her, his face blank. Then he hopped down from his stool and padded over to the door. “I hope your return to Praamis is a pleasant one. Give my best to Donneh.”
Ilanna crossed her arms. “So you’re not going to help us?”
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Break into the Temple of Whispers? Not even if you promised to sit on my lap! Anyone who messes with the Secret Keepers is either a fool or suicidal. Shame that a pretty thing like you is both. Now get the fiery hell out of my shop before I…” His voice trailed up as Ilanna drew an object from her pouch. “Oh, that is not even a little bit fair!”
Ilanna grinned and handed him what could only be the stuffed, bright red posterior of a very furry animal. What I’d give to find out the story behind this. Journeyman Donneh hadn’t seemed inclined to share and she doubted Lornys would be more forthcoming.
Lornys studied the object with obvious distaste. “Sly little minx. Hasn’t lost her touch, after all this time.” Sighing, he squinted up at Ilanna. “Why the Secret Keepers?”
“They have something I need.”
“Of course they do.” Lornys snorted. “Doesn’t explain why you’re willing to get yourself killed—and me in the process. They’ve got all sorts of things that could prove valuable in the right hands. Or dangerous in the wrong ones.”
Ilanna inclined her head, but said nothing. Donneh had warned her Lornys would prove hesitant to help but provided leverage. “There are two reasons you’re going to help me. One, because Donneh says, ‘Do this and we’re square’.”
Lornys nodded. “More than even. But what’s the other reason?”
Ilanna gave him a syrupy smile. “Because I’m going to steal you whatever you want from the Temple of Whispers.”
Lornys leaned against the wall, his finger tugging at the sparse hair above his lip. Ilanna met his scrutiny with calm. She could see the wheels in his head working to figure out how best to take advantage of the situation.
He cocked his head. “Anything?”
Ilanna nodded and hid a grin. She had him.
“So be it.” He held out a short-fingered hand. “You’ve got yourself a bargain.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SOMETHING ABOUT THE tunnels beneath Voramis sent a shiver down Ilanna’s spine. The symbols etched into the walls resembled those of the Guild tunnels in Praamis, but with a decidedly more sinister feel. The alchemical lamp in Graeme’s hand did little to drive back the thick shadows that seemed to cling to her. Her grip on her dagger tightened as an eerie wailing echoed through the darkened passageways.
“Always hated the sound of that wind.” Graeme adjusted the knob that brightened the alchemical light. “Gets louder the closer we get to the Midden. Almost like it comes from way down deep.” He shuddered. “And the smell…”
Ilanna gritted her teeth. “So why make us come down here? I’d prefer the rooftops anyway.” The walls and low roof pressed in on her, as if trying to squeeze the b
reath from her lungs. She’d give anything for open air.
The middle-aged assistant shook his head. “Not safe.” He cast a nervous glance around and dropped his voice. “The Hunter travels the rooftops. No one in their right mind would risk running into him up there.”
Ilanna raised an eyebrow. “The Hunter? I heard he was just a myth, a bogeyman.”
Errik shook his head. “He’s real.”
Graeme looked surprised. “You’ve seen him?”
“No.” Errik’s face took on an unusual pallor. “But I saw what was left of one of his victims. The look of horror on that man’s face…” The Serpent’s eyes darkened.
“They say he devours the very souls of those he kills,” Graeme whispered, his gaze darting up and down the tunnels.
“And you believe that?”
Errik said nothing, but Graeme shrugged. “Does it matter? Whether or not the legends are true, it’s enough to know that we don’t want to run into the Hunter. If that means going through these tunnels, so be it.” The assistant’s face brightened. “Besides, this is the easy way into the Temple of Whispers.” He tapped his nose. “Let’s just say the Hidden Circle has a few secrets even the Mistress’ priests don’t know about.”
Ilanna gave him an encouraging smile. “If it gets us in and out, I’m all for it.”
Just ahead, the tunnel split into three passages. Graeme knelt in the center of the intersection to study something etched into the stone floor. “Not much farther now.” He stood and, wiping his hands on his robes, pointed down the middle passage. “We’re beneath the Master’s Temple.”
By Ilanna’s calculations, they’d trudged through the underground tunnels for close to two hours. Graeme had led them in a direct line northward, through Lower Voramis to the Temple District. Ilanna wondered how the assistant navigated the maze of passages—something to do with the odd symbols etched into the walls or floor. The Hawk’s Highway had no need for signposts or direction markers. High above the city, she had clear lines of sight to any destination.
A few minutes later, Graeme stopped and ran his fingers along the wall. A clunk echoed in the tunnels, followed by the rumble of stone grating on stone as a section of wall slid to one side.
Greame stepped into the opening. “This way.” The light of the alchemical lamp shone on a set of marble stairs, which culminated at another blank wall. “We go in dark.”
He set the alchemical lamp on the floor and pulled the lever that switched it off. Darkness, thick and cloying, swallowed Ilanna. Instinctive fear coursed through her. Images of being locked in a dark room with other tyros flashed before her eyes. She clenched her fists and forced herself to take slow, quiet breaths.
The sound of Graeme’s breathing and his fingers scrabbling over stone echoed in the tunnel. Beside her, Errik made not a sound. The Serpent didn’t share her instinctive fear of dark, enclosed spaces.
The clunk of the hidden mechanism snapped the tension in Ilanna’s chest. The door slid open and Graeme poked his head out of the hidden stairwell. After a moment, he stepped out and motioned for them to follow. “Stay close now,” he murmured. “This place is a maze.”
Ilanna found herself in a featureless, windowless corridor. Knuckle-sized stones set into the wall at intervals leaked a pitiful pale light that grew brighter as Graeme approached.
The balding assistant grinned at her surprise. “Clever things. Respond to body heat.” The light dimmed as he stepped back. “They’ll stay dim so long as you remain in the middle of the corridor.”
Ilanna passed a hand over the stone, and the illumination increased. “Frozen hell!”
“Prepare yourselves.” Graeme gave her a wry smile. “This place is filled with wonders that will set your mind awhirl.”
“You’ve been here before?”
Graeme nodded. “Master Lornys may be a clever man, but no way he comes up with all his ‘inventions’ on his own. We of the Hidden Circle pride ourselves on our ingenuity, even if it means borrowing from the Secret Keepers.” His teeth flashed bright in the pale light. “The old man may complain, but he keeps me around because I’m one of the few who know the ways around the Temple of Whispers.”
Ilanna followed the balding assistant down a nondescript stone corridor, which led to another, and another, and still more. She saw no indications, no markings to guide them yet Graeme made each turn without hesitation. It appeared he had a memory to rival Allon’s.
A soft green light shone at the end of one passage. Ilanna’s jaw dropped as she stepped into an enormous, high-ceilinged room ringed with dimmed alchemical lamps. Three massive skeletons hung overhead. One belonged to a serpentine creature that had to span at least fifty or sixty paces long. Another had tusks easily as tall as Ilanna herself. The last bore a humanoid resemblance, but with finger bones as long as her legs.
“What are they?”
Graeme shrugged. “Only the Secret Keepers know for sure. Something as old as Einan itself, that’s for certain.”
Ilanna shuddered at the thought of encountering one of those creatures. Even Errik seemed subdued in the presence of these gargantuan monsters.
Glass tanks lined the walls of the next room. The viscous fluid within the tanks held the preserved figures of ghastly creatures in suspension. The beasts—fish, serpents, furry creatures, and insects far too large to exist—seemed to be motionless, yet not truly dead. Ilanna found herself holding her breath for fear of somehow restoring them to life.
Through the maze Graeme led them, never pausing to stop and admire the marvels within the Temple of Whispers. One room held weapons that appeared older than the stone walls from which they hung, while another chamber was filled from floor to ceiling with small glass jars that held nothing but sand and dirt of every conceivable color and texture. Ilanna had to cover her nose to keep from sneezing as they passed through a smaller room filled with a greater variety of spices than she’d ever imagined.
It seemed as if the Secret Keepers collected everything from every corner of Einan. Each item in their chambers bore a label with indecipherable symbols inked onto the parchment.
“The Secret Keepers’ language.” Graeme pointed to one of the symbols. “Think of it as an amalgamation of every language on Einan. So complex only the Secret Keepers can understand it. They spend a lifetime learning it, and still they discover new symbols every day.”
Ilanna raised an eyebrow. “How do you know all this?”
Graeme gave her an enigmatic grin. “You planning on telling me how you became a thief of the Night Guild?” At her silence, he winked. “We all have our secrets.”
The assistant’s manner surprised her. He’d seemed so confused, so submissive in the book store. Yet here, in the heart of the most dangerous place in the city, he walked and talked with the confidence that could only come from familiarity. Ilanna wouldn’t hesitate to wager that he knew his way around the Temple of Whispers better than anyone outside the Mistress’ priesthood.
Graeme held up a hand at the next intersection. “Careful here.” He spoke in a murmur so low she had to strain her ears. “We’ve gone through mostly storerooms, but now we’re getting to the section of the temple where the priests live. We have to be very careful this next bit. They move without a sound, never speak a word. If one spots you, you won’t know they’re there until they’ve put a dagger in you.” He winced. “Keep a sharp eye.”
Daggers appeared in Errik’s hands. Ilanna drew one of her own. Graeme rolled his eyes but said nothing. He thrust his chin down a side corridor and, at Ilanna’s nod, led the way.
Graeme’s slippers made no more noise on the stone floor than Errik’s soft-soled boots. Sweat soaked the leather grip of Ilanna’s dagger and trickled down her back. The cool air of the dimly lit corridors held an unnatural stillness. Ilanna found herself counting the beats of her heart just to have a sound to break the ethereal silence that gripped the temple’s interior.
Ilanna froze as Graeme’s hand flashed up. The balding ass
istant pressed his back against the wall, his cloak covering the illumination stone. Not twenty paces away, Ilanna saw the backs of a pair of brown-robed Secret Keepers. The stones brightened and dimmed in time with their measured steps. They moved at an unhurried pace, seeming to glide over the stone floor without so much as the sound of a rustling robe or a drawn breath.
When the Secret Keepers finally disappeared around a corner, Graeme relaxed and motioned for them to continue. He led them down the corridor from which the Secret Keepers had appeared. The passage led to a huge chamber. Glassware, stone grinders, alchemical burners, and hundreds of other unfamiliar objects sat on the tables and shelves lining the wall. The noxious scent of something burnt hung in the air, yet the walls, floors, and ceilings held no stains or traces of whatever experiments took place.
“Through there.” Graeme pointed to a door on the far side of the chamber.
“Errik,” Ilanna hissed. “Keep this way clear.”
The Serpent nodded and took up position flat against the wall, black-bladed daggers in hand.
As they threaded through the maze of work tables and shelves, Ilanna clutched her cloak tight around her to stop it from brushing against anything. She’d wager a year’s income that the meticulous Secret Keepers would notice even the slightest detail out of place.
Graeme stopped at the door. “You’re up.”
Ilanna knelt and drew a tension tool. Her heart sank as her fingers counted ten cylinders. “Give me a minute.”
“Make it quick. Never know when they’ll return.” Worry lined Graeme’s face. “I’ve known Secret Keepers that can work for days without pause.”
Ilanna forced herself to take deep breaths as she worked. If she held her breath, the lack of oxygen would set her hands trembling. Even the slightest tremor would make working this delicate lock near-impossible.
Errik’s hiss froze her in place. Instinct sent her diving under the nearest table. She pulled her dark grey cloak over her head and, heart pounding, fixed her eyes on the door. A minute later, Errik’s quiet call came. “False alarm.”
Thief of the Night Guild Page 28
