Thief of the Night Guild

by Andy Peloquin

  Ilanna crawled out from beneath the table and found Graeme doing likewise. The balding assistant grinned and shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

  Ilanna returned to her work on the lock with a grimace. In her hasty flight, she’d tripped five of the eight pins she’d managed to open. A full two minutes passed before the tenth pin finally clicked into place.

  As Graeme pulled the door wide, light flared to life within the room beyond. Ilanna’s eyes widened as she took in the warehouse-sized chamber. Ten rows of shelves ran the length of the room, each laden with hundreds of bottles, jars, boxes, crates, and containers of every conceivable size and shape. Every one bore the mark of the Secret Keepers.

  “How in the bloody hell are we going to find anything in here?”

  Graeme grinned. “Well, there’s the first of your two items.” He pointed to a shelf on the west wall of the chamber. “Derelana’s Lance. They’ve kept it in the same place for the last forty years.”

  Ilanna rushed across the room, eyes scanning the shelves. “What does it look like?”

  “Look for two small clay jars bound together with twine.” Graeme’s whisper echoed in the cavernous room. “The ingredients are too volatile if mixed. The Secret Keepers have to keep them separate until use.”

  Ilanna’s eyes fell on a neat row that matched Graeme’s description. With delicacy born of wariness, she lifted one from as far back on the shelf as she could reach. “What about this?”

  Graeme eyed the label and nodded. “That’ll be it.” He grinned at her extreme caution. “Don’t worry. Until you mix them, they’re as likely to combust as flour and pepper.”

  Ilanna grimaced as she stuffed the clay jars into her pouch. “I’ll still be careful, if it’s all the same with you.”

  “Smart choice. I can see why you’ve survived all these years.”

  Ilanna stiffened. The assistant meant it in jest, but the words pierced deep. He had no idea what she’d done to stay alive amidst the thugs and cutthroats of the Night Guild.

  “One down. One to go.”

  Graeme grimaced. “Now comes the real challenge: finding something that may not even exist somewhere in this maze.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  ILANNA’S EYES NARROWED. “What?” Her dagger appeared in her hand. “You telling me—?”

  “Whoa!” Graeme jerked back, his hands flying up to protect his face.

  Ilanna gritted her teeth. “You said you knew where to find the things I needed.”

  “No.” Graeme shook his head. “What I said was that I know my way around the Temple of Whispers better than anyone outside the Secret Keepers. I got you half of what you wanted, right?” His eyes never left the dagger.

  “It’s a start.” Ilanna lowered the blade. “But if your Master Lornys wants me to hold up my end of the bargain, you’re going to help me find Kharna’s Breath.”

  Graeme’s voice turned plaintive. “But I don’t know where to find it!”

  Ilanna shrugged. “Means we’re going to have to look for it.”

  “Among all this?” Graeme waved at the rows of shelves filling the enormous room. “Like trying to find a kernel of wheat in a granary.”

  “You look like a smart man.” Ilanna gave him a savage grin. “Time you quit moaning and start figuring out where to find it.” She sheathed the dagger. “Why not start off by telling me what we’re looking for?”

  Graeme sighed. “It’ll be a clear liquid. Seeing as it’s an acid, the Secret Keepers would store it in some type of glass vial or jar.”

  “Good start.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think we’ll find it in here.”

  Ilanna raised an eyebrow.

  “Only a fool would store highly unstable liquids near volatile powders.” Graeme pointed to the shelves. “This room must be kept bone dry. A single drop of liquid could cause pretty terrifying chemical reactions with some of these powders.”

  “So if this is the dry storage, where would we find the liquids?”

  Graeme’s face scrunched in contemplation. “There’s another workshop a short distance further into the temple. But I’ve never been able to get inside. There are always Secret Keepers working in that one.”

  “So we’ll find a way in.” Ilanna grabbed the assistant’s robes and dragged him toward the door. “We’re not leaving until I’ve got what I came for.”

  “It’s not that simple!” Graeme pulled free of Ilanna’s grip. “We’ve less than an hour to get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  Graeme pointed to the illumination stones set into the wall. “At precisely four hours after midnight, the lights will brighten to wake all the Secret Keepers to work. These halls and work rooms will fill with Secret Keepers.”

  “We can’t leave. Not yet.”

  “I know. I said we’ve got an hour. We can keep looking a while longer. But first you need to hold up your end of the deal.”

  Ilanna snorted. “If you think I’m giving you what you want without—”

  Graeme folded his arms. “You came to us. You asked for our help to do something anyone else would’ve told you was impossible.” He gestured around. “Look at where you are. No one outside the Hidden Circle has ever gotten in and out of here alive. I’m the only one that can lead you through this Keeper-damned maze.” He bared his teeth, his voice dropping to a growl. “So if you want me to continue helping you, you’re going to deliver on your promises!”

  Ilanna locked gazes with the assistant. Graeme refused to back down.

  “Fine.” Ilanna gave a dismissive wave. “What do I need to do?”

  “This way.” Graeme led her back into the work room.

  Errik met Ilanna’s questioning glance with a shake of his head. The Mistress’ luck hadn’t yet turned against them.

  Peering through the door, Graeme slipped out into the hall. He moved with a greater urgency, his head swiveling as they passed through the various intersections. Anxiety radiated off him in tangible waves.

  Ilanna followed the sweating apprentice, Errik a step behind. She craned her head to look through every door and down every corridor they passed. Even if the apprentice wouldn’t help her, she had to find Kharna’s Breath.

  Graeme stopped at a plain wooden door. “In here.”

  The lock proved even more challenging to pick than the last. She pushed away the nervous anxiety in her mind, forced herself to focus on the sensations of the rake running over the lock’s pins. It took her five minutes to set the final pin and snap the lock open.

  Graeme darted inside before the alchemical lights blinked to life. He motioned for Errik to pull the door closed and led Ilanna through the room. Scores of locks of hair in every conceivable color—natural and unnatural—hung on one wall. Lifelike faces peered down at her from a row of dressmakers’ dummy heads sitting on a shelf. She shuddered at the empty eye sockets and lipless mouths. What the hell is this place?

  He stopped at an iron-bound lock box. “Your end of the deal.”

  Pushing aside her unease, Ilanna knelt and studied the odd-shaped lock. It was larger and thicker than those used in Praamis and looked far more complex. Inserting her rake, she found her fears confirmed. In addition to six vertical pins, the cylinder bore six side pins. The locking mechanism moved too freely, like it rested on a spring. Not only did she have to set the pins, but she’d have to raise and rotate the lock at just the right angle to open it.

  “Get comfortable.” She spoke without looking up. “This is going to take a while.”

  “We don’t have a while.”

  Ilanna turned now and glared at the assistant. “You know anything about picking locks?”

  Graeme shook his head. “It’s why you’re he—”

  “Then shut up, sit down, and let me work.” She caught a glimpse of Errik’s grin as she returned her attention to the lock.

  The vertical pins proved easy enough—she’d set them above the shear line in a matter of minutes. But the side pins frustrated her
. Whenever she set one, a pin on the other side popped out of place. Just when she thought she’d gotten them all in place, the tension tool slipped and the vertical pins clicked back into place.

  “Damn it!” She flexed her fingers to prevent her hand from cramping. “Errik, get over here.”

  The Serpent crouched beside her without a word. Ilanna inserted an L-shaped tension tool into the lock. “Hold this, and twist gently when I tell you.”

  The shape of the tension tool allowed Errik to apply pressure on the lock without getting in her way. Ilanna made quick work of the vertical pins, though the side pins proved no less stymying. However, with a pick in each hand, she could work both sides of the lock at the same time. Finally, after what seemed an interminable effort, she had all the pins set. With a nod, she took the tension tool from Errik and gently worked the locking mechanism up, down, and to the side. She had to find just the right position to rotate the lock and—

  Ilanna grinned, triumphant, as the lock gave a satisfying click. She threw open the lid. What looked like a simple block of clay sat on a velvet cushion.

  Graeme rushed over. “Yes!” With a small knife, he carved a chunk out of the underside of the block.

  “What is it?”

  Graeme wrapped his prize in cloth. “Alchemically-grown flesh.” He grinned at her surprise. “Looks and feels as real as your own skin, yet can be manipulated however you want. Let’s just say the right client is willing to pay a fortune for such disguises.” He replaced the lump of false flesh and snapped the lockbox closed. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  Ilanna seized his arm. “What about Kharna’s Breath?”

  Graeme jerked his head back the way they’d come. “The work room’s back that way. But we need to hurry if we want to reach it before the Secret Keepers awake.”

  Ilanna rushed after the balding assistant. Graeme led them through the maze of corridors at a half-run. The sound of his breathing and the scuff of his slippers on stone seemed far too loud in the eerie stillness of the Temple of Whispers. Ilanna matched Graeme’s pace with ease, but something about the urgent celerity of his movements left her uneasy.

  He turned at the next intersection. “The workshop’s this way. We have to—”

  Ilanna’s heart froze as the illumination stones flared to life. The corridors filled with a light so bright she had to cover her eyes.

  “We’re out of time!” Before Ilanna could stop him, Graeme turned and fled.

  Ilanna cursed. A simple wooden door stood at the end of the hallway, just ten short paces away. She was so close. She couldn’t go now.

  “Ilanna!” Errik hissed. “If we lose him, we’ll never make it out of here.”

  Growling, Ilanna sprinted after Graeme. She caught up to the balding assistant in the next corridor and seized his arm. “What are you doing? We have to go back for—”

  “No!” Graeme pulled free. “It’s too late. These halls will be crawling with Secret Keepers at any moment. We have to get out of here before they see us.” Abject terror twisted the assistant’s expression. “Let’s go!”

  Graeme didn’t stop running until he reached the secret entrance. He fumbled for the hidden trigger with trembling hands and threw himself down the stairs to collapse onto the stone floor of the passageway, gasping for breath.

  Ilanna lit the alchemical lamp as the wall rumbled closed behind her. She stalked down the steps, a dagger in her hand. “I’m not leaving without Kharna’s Breath!”

  Graeme snorted. “I’ll say a prayer for your soul. If the Secret Keepers find you, they won’t leave enough of you to bury. Besides, you’ve got Derelana’s Lance. Let that suffice, and thank whatever god you worship that you got out of the Temple of Whispers alive.”

  Ilanna shook her head. “It’s not good enough.”

  From what Journeyman Donneh had told her, Derelana’s Lance could burn through the steel floor of Lord Auslan’s vault room. But it wouldn’t work for the enormous door. She couldn’t risk the fire spreading to the hinges or melting the threaded shaft that retracted the locking bolts. Derelana’s Lance was a sledgehammer, Kharna’s Breath the chisel of a master stonemason. It would melt a hole into the steel outer door plate and eat through the locking bolt that prevented the wheel from turning. She needed Kharna’s Breath.

  “There’s no way I’m going back in there.” Graeme climbed to his feet and brushed off his clothing. “I’ve come close enough to dying for one year.”

  Ilanna gripped his collar. “I held up my end of the bargain, damn you!”

  “And the Hidden Circle thanks you.” Graeme eyed her dagger. “But there’s not a snowflake’s chance in the fiery hell I’m going back in there.”

  He flinched at Ilanna’s snarl, but his eyes filled with stubborn refusal. Ilanna hurled him backward, sending him stumbling into the wall. His fear of the Secret Keepers far outweighed anything she could do to him.

  “Fine. Then you’re going to draw me a map to help me get where I need to go.”

  “A…map?” Graeme’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re going back in there? Alone? That’s madness, not to mention certain death! Do you have any idea how many people have died wandering the bowels of the Temple of Whispers? The Secret Keepers built that maze to protect their secrets.”

  Ilanna shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I? You learned your way around, but it seems you’re too much of a coward to help me. So you’re going to tell me how to get back to that work room.” She bent and spoke in a low, menacing voice. “I’m not leaving Voramis without Kharna’s Breath. And you’re going to help me. Master Lornys owes Journeyman Donneh that much.”

  Graeme sighed. “Fine. But if you want even the slightest chance of getting out alive, you won’t need a map. You’ll need to memorize a code.”

  Ilanna pulled him to his feet. “We’ve a long walk ahead of us, and you’ll find I’m a quick learner.”

  * * *

  GRAEME RUSHED THROUGH the streets of Lower Voramis without a backward glance. Ilanna gave a mocking one-fingered salute to the assistant’s retreating figure.

  Errik eyed her askance. “You sure about this, Ilanna?”

  Ilanna shook her head. “Not even a little. Not much of a choice, though.”

  “You really trust the code he gave you?”

  She pondered it. The assistant had no reason to lie to her, nothing to make him want her to fall into the Secret Keepers’ clutches. “I’m not exactly going in without a plan.” She tapped her temple. “I’ve got a pretty clear memory of the route we took. With his code, I should be able to get in and out.”

  Errik didn’t look convinced.

  “I know you don’t like it. But it’s what has to be done.”

  After a moment, Errik gave a stiff nod.

  She pulled a satchel from the place she’d stashed it hours earlier. “Come on. Let’s get into these merchant’s clothes and find that inn.” The idea of a warm bath, hot meal, and a few hours of sleep held a lot of appeal.

  Ilanna slipped the plain woolen dress over her dark grey work clothes. The long sleeves hid her bracer from view, but she’d slit them so she could reach her daggers. A false pocket on the left side of the dress’ waist gave her access to the hilt of her slim fencing sword.

  Ilanna stepped out of the tunnel’s hidden entrance and pulled up her hood to ward off the pre-dawn chill.

  “The port’s this way.” Errik thrust his chin to the southeast. “We’ll be at The Iron Arms just before daybreak.”

  Ilanna nodded and followed the Serpent. She had brought Errik because he knew his way around Voramis. She’d spent her one visit to the city holed up in the Blackfall District, enjoying the comforts of The Arms of Heaven for a few days before returning to Praamis for childbirth.

  With every step deeper into Lower Voramis, Ilanna’s distaste for the city grew. Piles of detritus and rubbish littered the streets. Dust covered the buildings around her, washing everything a pale color that shouted of decay and neglect. She
wished she had a scarf to block out the odors of filth that hung thick in the streets.

  “Ilanna.” Errik’s murmur came so quiet she nearly missed it. “Company.”

  A moment later, six figures stepped from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Ilanna’s heart sank as she caught sight of gleaming steel daggers and wooden truncheons.

  The Bloody Hand had found them.

  Chapter Forty

  ERRIK CAUGHT ILANNA’S hand before she drew her dagger. “Don’t,” he hissed in her ear. “They don’t know it’s us.”

  Ilanna paused. The Serpent’s words confused her for a moment. Then things clicked into place. The Bloody Hand had no idea anyone from the Night Guild had come to Praamis. The thugs advancing on them saw them as marks to rob. With a tiny nod, she relaxed.

  “Evening, folks.”

  Ilanna gave a high-pitched shriek and clung to Errik’s arm. Errik, playing the role of a merchant, stammered. “G-Good evening.” His head swiveled and his eyes went wide in a convincing pretense of fear.

  The first thug to step from the shadows had a dark, bristling beard that hung down his barrel chest. “A bit late to be out on the streets just the two of yous.” His crooked smile revealed teeth the same brown as the truncheon in his hand. “Lower Voramis ain’t the safest of places this time of night.”

  Another man came to stand beside the first. This one had long, wispy, blond hair and a pathetic beard to match. “All sorts of rough types around. Lucky you, we’re here to offer you a safe escort home.”

  A glint of silver caught Ilanna’s eye. The thug’s cloak pin bore a long-fingered hand tipped with razor claws. The Bloody Hand.

  The man hefted his short dagger. “No one’ll mess with you so long as we’re here.”

  The first thug spoke up again. “All for the modest sum of two imperials.” Another smile, another glimpse of rotten teeth. “S’a bargain, if you ask me.”

  “Of course, some people find the price a bit high.” Another voice spoke from behind them, and both Ilanna and Errik shifted. “If you’re not inclined to agree, perhaps we’d best leave you to whatever fate the gods have in store for you.” Judging by the way he hefted the cosh, he had a definite idea of that “fate”.