by Ben Hale
“Don't make me lose my bet,” he said with a grin.
Jack slipped him a five gold piece. “Why not increase the wager?”
Brolan pocketed the coin, his smile widening. “As you order.”
“Welcome to the Machine, hopefuls,” the overseer said, drawing Jack's attention. “You have either demonstrated your skill and been invited, or sought the guild on your own. Either way we only take those with potential. Sticky fingers and arrogance are not enough to survive here. We take contracts from every corner of the five kingdoms, and we hold the highest of standards.”
He stabbed a finger at the deadly wall. “At the top of each section there is a locked door. You can use any trick, tool, or weapon to get through. You must reach the first door to be accepted into the guild as a class one. Reach the second door, and you will be a class two, and so forth.”
“I give you a warning, though,” the man said, beginning to pace. “Each level is a magnitude of difficulty higher than the previous one—and no one has ever reached the top. Our guild boasts just two class-four thieves, and one of them is the guildmaster. Slyver there is one of the few class threes we have. Higher ranks come with special privileges, which include advanced training and a higher cut of your earnings. Once a year you are permitted to attempt the Machine again and try for a higher rank.”
A burst of laughter drew the group's attention to the balconies that overlooked the Machine. Hundreds of thieves sat within them, the glint of gold suggesting they were placing wagers. The overseer growled as the hopefuls looked up at them.
“If you don't make it to the first door, you will remain as a slave. If you die—”His smile turned wicked. “—your corpse will feed the beasts in the lake.”
He scanned the crowd but most shied away from his gaze. One pair seemed to be locked in conversation, while a few of the more nervous were looking at the doors as if planning escape. He smiled and pointed to a man that had not stopped fidgeting since they had arrived.
Reluctantly the man advanced and grasped a handhold with shaking fingers. His motion halting, he climbed twenty feet before reaching a section covered by an illusion. The magic flickered as he entered and the area turned to steel. He hesitated as it began to glow, heating by the second.
The man shrieked in pain and let go. His fall came to an abrupt halt when a blade streaked into his path. The resulting laughter from the thieves made it clear that such a fate was not uncommon.
The overseer turned back to the group and shook his head. “Death on the Machine is always an instant away.”
The wall rotated behind him, carrying the corpse into the barrier of flame—a sober punctuation of the overseer's words. Then he turned and gestured Gordon forward. The man exchanged a look with Ursana and then made his way to the wall.
He paused at the base and scanned the surface of the Machine, the delay drawing shouts of disapproval from above. Then he reached up and began to climb. His methodical pace drew jeers from the onlookers but it gave him time to plan. A shard of steel exploded out of the wall just inches from his side. He flinched, carrying him into another spike that cut across his arm.
Jack noticed Ursana at his side. The girl’s shoulders were tense with worry and her knuckles were white. Noticing her concern, he realized the two had bonded in the days since they had met, and Ursana wanted him to survive.
Sweat beaded Gordon’s forehead as he circumnavigated the trap that had wounded him. With blood trickling down his arm and staining his tunic, Gordon reached a section of the wall that abruptly sank inward and rotated, carrying him dangerously close to the fires that bordered the Machine.
He scrambled to the first door as it reached the flames. Slapping his palm against the barrier, he left a pulsing fire rune on the wood. He swung himself out of the alcove just as the spell detonated the door into shards of kindling. Amidst cheers from the onlookers, he strode through the gap and out of sight.
Ursana breathed a sigh of relief as the overseer turned to the hopefuls. “A flawed ascent,” the overseer said, “But a victory nonetheless.”
Abruptly tiring of the spectacle, Jack stepped forward. Ignoring the overseer, he strode to the wall and crouched. With a surge of strength, he leapt twenty feet and caught a handhold. The display elicited a gasp of surprise, followed by shouts of praise and renewed gambling.
Jack put the sounds from his mind and focused on the wall. He leapt twice more, bypassing the entire first level to reach the first door. He knew to climb higher would draw attention, but he couldn’t resist the challenge.
He slowed as he reached the second level, the sheer number of traps eliciting caution. A spinning blade swung above him, nearly cleaving his throat. He waited for it to pass and then scaled beyond it—and the entire wall shifted, flipping him to the side. Hearing the surge of air close to his skull he instinctively jumped upward, catching a hold and yanking himself higher. Just as his feet passed a burst of acid poured out, cascading down where he'd been standing.
He squeezed himself into a tiny recess, allowing a series of spikes to withdraw back into the wall. Before they did, he stepped onto the spike and catapulted himself higher. Unfortunately, the moment he did, the wall shifted left, bringing a nest of spiders directly into his path. He pulled his hands back and fell, passing the trap by. Then he lurched for a hold, grasping with all his strength.
His body slammed into the wall, nearly tearing his hands free. Then he spotted the wall of fire approaching. Gathering himself, he leapt up and right again. This time he caught a grip on a net intended to ensnare climbers and used it to rebound higher. With increased speed, he stepped on a spike and used it to accelerate further. Rebounding off traps and handholds he reached the second door in seconds.
For the first time he hesitated. Attaining the second level was impressive, but did not guarantee the respect of the thieves. He looked upward at the increased density of the traps, a smile crossing his lips at the impending challenge.
He reached up and caught a hold above the door, and once again threw himself into motion. Twisting through blades, poisoned darts, and bursts of fire, he ricocheted his way up the third level. Twice a trap appeared in front of him and only his reflexes saved his life. The second time the spinning saw tore into his cloak when he rotated away. Then he reached a section of ice.
Frozen and covered with water, the grips were slick and useless. With the fire barrier approaching and no space to go around, Jack realized he was trapped. Reaching out, he caught a blade extending from the wall. With a surge of strength he ripped it from its moorings. Spinning it in his hand, he jammed it into a crack in the wall. Then he caught the end and tested to see if it would hold his weight. With the fires singeing his cheek, he grasped the makeshift hold and climbed.
He climbed past the third door and caught the first hold on the fourth level, allowing it to carry him out of the heat. He looked up to see a section of the wall fold together like a piece of parchment, ready to crush an unwary climber. Realizing he'd pushed his luck far enough, he leaned out from the wall and pulled his torn cloak free.
“Someone owes me a new cloak!” he shouted, and tossed it to the crowd in the terrace across from him.
Guffaws and shouts erupted as the wall rotated left, and once the door appeared below him he descended to pick the lock. Offering a bow to the cheering thieves, he strode through the opening. As the door shut behind him a flicker of doubt caused his smile to fade. He'd caught their attention.
But did he want it?
Chapter 6: The Guildmaster
Jack found himself on a narrow walkway that overlooked the inner workings of the Machine. He leaned over the edge, tempted to damage the machinery to give the other hopefuls a chance. He chuckled at that image before discarding it. Doing so might draw the ire of the Guildmaster, which would only hamper his efforts.
Striding across the walkway, he reached a spiral staircase just as a man appeared. Out of breath from the climb, the white-haired thief bore an expression of wonder. As he str
uggled to get a word out, Jack smirked.
“I take it you don't see many reach this point.”
The man shook his head. “It's been a century since a hopeful reached it on their first attempt,” he said, and then motioned him downward. “Normally, I would take you to the Guildmaster's quarters, but he wants you brought back to the other hopefuls.”
“Why?”
The man shrugged and gestured for him to follow. Jack suppressed the surge of worry and forced a smile. Descending through the heart of the Machine, the old man led him down a second corridor that exited into the chamber facing the Machine. Since his departure a knot of thief guards had appeared on the opposite side of the room.
Jack's gaze was drawn to the man at the center of the group. He was lean and tall, with eyes the color of obsidian. Glinting with intelligence, they swept the room like a hawk searching a field for mice. His clothing had been tailored, accentuating his already commanding presence. He smiled at the hopefuls as he approached, but the sight caused several to shudder.
“Hopefuls,” he said. His eyes flicked to Jack and he motioned him to the group. “It is a pleasure to have you. Traditionally, I award ranks to the thieves that complete the Machine, but today we have an unexpected guest.”
Jack’s throat tightened and a host of doubts flooded his mind. He struggled to keep his features casual as he scanned the room for exits. The now somber gallery of thieves presented no place of egress. The only way out would be the way he had come in. He shifted his feet, easing himself for the sprint that would carry him past the group.
The Guildmaster stalked among the hopefuls, causing them to retreat when his gaze flicked to them. “One of you is an intruder,” he said, his voice mild. “A spy with a hidden agenda.”
Jack eased himself another step, struggling to keep his form relaxed. The Guildmaster came closer, passing the dwarves and heading for him. Jack wondered if he should draw a blade, but doubted his chances with the man.
The Guildmaster flashed his cold smile once again as he passed Ursana and Gordon. Then only the laughing man stood between Jack from the Guildmaster. The Guildmaster came to a halt and leveled his gaze upon him.
“Lieutenant Danver,” he said mildly. “It is unwise to enter a man's house without an invitation.”
“I am a thief,” he protested.
The Guildmaster chuckled, the sound even more chilling than his smile. “You attempt to deceive in a house of deceit. I thought you were better trained than that.”
The man turned to flee but a trio of swords extended toward him. He swallowed and rotated back to the Guildmaster.
“Please,” he said. “I had my orders . . .”
His words elicited a series of shouts from the terraces above, and when they subsided the Guildmaster glided close to the soldier.
“I have a family,” he cried out, desperate now. “Let me go and I swear I will never tell of this place.”
The Guildmaster shook his head as if the soldier were an errant child. “Oh, but you will, Lieutenant. We all know the nature of man cannot be trusted.”
“But my family—”
“Means nothing to me—if you even had one.” His smile turned malicious. “In spite of your attempts at courting you have never married. Your father died last year and your mother a decade ago. Your brothers work for a mine in the south of Griffin, both of which are married. I understand one of their wives is expecting a child.”
The realization that the Guildmaster knew everything caused the soldier to flinch. “Please,” he said. “Spare me.”
The Guildmaster ignored the plea and turned to face the thieves craning to get a better look. “Our guest is a lieutenant in the Talinor army,” he said. His voice remained mild, but the threat of violence stilled the thieves. “He has been sent to infiltrate our guild and reveal its location to the king.”
“Kill him!” a voice called from above, and the shout burst a dam of noise.
“Feed him to the alligators!”
“Flay his flesh and toss him to the rayths!”
The Guildmaster's eyes flicked to the crowd, the motion sufficient to quiet them. Then he smiled again, and this time a touch of cruelty seeped into it.
“Friends,” he said. “Perhaps it is best we let him finish his mission.”
He gestured to the Machine, and the trio of thieves pushed the lieutenant forward. Trembling, he held himself erect and shook his head, whereupon the Guildmaster glided forward, a knife appearing in his hand.
“You can die here, or have a chance on the Machine,” he said, his soft voice somehow filling the chamber.
“How do I know you will keep your word?” he dared to ask.
The Guildmaster smirked. “I may be a thief, but I only lie on assignment.”
Apparently the quote was known, and elicited a burst of laughter from the thieves in the chamber. Reluctantly the soldier turned to the Machine and began to climb. It quickly became apparent that he was no novice. He bypassed traps and even disarmed one on his way to the first door, timing his ascent well. Then he climbed onto the alcove and froze.
“Did you expect it to be that easy?” the Guildmaster called up to him.
Jack shifted his position in order to see, and spotted a new door had replaced the old one—but it lacked a handle. The soldier sought a way to escape as sweat beaded his forehead. Jack could see the choice written on his features. Climb down and be killed, or attempt to get higher. The man swallowed, and reached for a hold on the second level.
“I heard your captain trained you specifically for this mission,” the Guildmaster said, and his voice turned mocking. “I hope he trained you well.”
Sweat darkened the soldier's tunic as he struggled to navigate past a pair of snakes coiled around a pole. They hissed and snapped at him, causing him to flinch and nearly lose his hand to a blade. With panic flitting across his face, the man scrambled upward, past a burst of fire to reach the second door. Once again, he found the door without a handle.
Panic twisted his features as he was forced to climb again. The thieves began to call out to him, jeering and laughing as he struggled. Their mocking caused Jack to feel a rush of anger. What type of men laughed at an execution?
“Look out for the spiders! They are more lethal than the snakes!”
“Can't you go any faster? I have a silver piece riding on you reaching the third door!”
“He's already slipping!”
True to the thief’s word, the man had begun to slip. His fingers trembled with fatigue and were lathered in sweat. Ten feet above the second door he reached for an innocuous-seeming hold. Jack had passed it by on his ascent because of its size, suspecting it to hide a trap. His stomach tightened as the soldier's hand closed on the grip.
—Steel jaws snapped out, closing on his arm before withdrawing back into the Machine. The soldier stared at the hole where his arm had been, stunned at the sudden loss. Then his remaining hand slipped free and he fell. His scream lasted until he struck the floor.
Jack stared at the corpse, shock and anger filling his veins. The other hopefuls seemed equally as disturbed, but the terrace above had dissolved into laughter and cheers. The Guildmaster allowed it to continue for several seconds until he turned to the remaining hopefuls.
“We guard our secrets here with the utmost zeal,” he said, his voice mild once again. “We consider a thief's betrayal to be far more serious than Lieutenant Danver's transgression.” He began to stalk among the hopefuls.
“If you attempt to steal more than your share—or seek to escape the guild—we will not kill you. Instead you will be hunted, and every time you are caught you will lose a limb. We will also kill your family, if you make the mistake of starting one.”
Slyver released a bark of laughter. “Most thieves that attempt to flee ultimately take their own lives rather than face the consequences of their betrayal.”
“Well said, Slyver,” the Guildmaster said, and his smile returned. “Forn, you may continu
e.”
The overseer inclined his head and motioned for a pair of slaves hovering in the wings to remove the body. Seeing the order, the Guildmaster shook his head.
“Leave it,” he said. “Perhaps it will motivate the others to complete the wall.”
“As you order,” the overseer said, and then gestured to Ursana.
She did not blink or nod, but she did avoid the broken body of the lieutenant. Scaling the wall easily, she climbed all the way to the second door and slipped through the opening. The flawless ascent drew praise from the onlookers and the Guildmaster. As the next hopeful moved to the Machine, he stepped to Jack's side.
“Walk with me.”
Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the door he'd entered from. Reluctantly Jack fell into step behind him, and fleetingly wondered what would happen if he drew his dagger and plunged it into the man's back. Before he could consider it further, a pair of guards flanked him and the moment was lost.
“My apologies for the display,” the Guildmaster said over his shoulder. “But spies must be dealt with.”
Jack glanced back at the soldier's body and wondered if that was the fate in store for him. Then he recalled his purpose and his jaw clenched. Whatever his fate, he had a death to avenge. Forcing a smile, he pointed to the body.
“You should have his body delivered to the king,” he said.
The Guildmaster came to a halt and rotated to face him. Jack held his breath under the intense scrutiny, and didn't relax when the man smiled.
“An excellent suggestion,” he said. “The corpse will deter the king from making another attempt.”
And keep other soldiers from being killed.
Jack buried the thought lest it show on his face, and quoted a rock troll saying, “Caution keeps you alive, but slows your path.”
For the first time the Guildmaster's smile became genuine. “A skilled thief who is also well-read. How surprisingly fortunate. I do look forward to what we will do together.”
With that the Guildmaster turned and swept from the room. Jack cast a final look at the now bloody room. He'd come to the Thieves Guild for his own purpose, but had never imagined it would be so lethal. For the first time he considered what would happen if he failed—but he only had to look at Lieutenant Danver to see the answer. Turning away from the Machine, he followed the Guildmaster from the room. He did not look back.
