01- Jack of Thieves

by Ben Hale

  Jack pressed the lightstone again, causing the dwarf to shield his eyes and curse. Jack grinned and pocketed the two stones.

  “I think I can figure it out.”

  The dwarf grunted annoyance and picked up the last two items, a black knife and a dark bracer. “An anti-magic knife will allow you to sever hexes and curses that guard your targets. The shadowhook will give you mobility and stealth. Just remember it only attaches to a shadow. If light is cast upon a wall while you are hanging on it . . .”He smashed his fist onto the table.

  “I don't plan on falling to my death,” Jack replied, and accepted the gloves.

  “They all say that,” the dwarf replied.

  The trace of bitterness in his tone caused Jack to view him in a new light. The dwarf had apparently been outfitting thieves for some time, and perhaps developed an affection for them. From the depths of the Thieves Guild he would hear of their death or imprisonment, the news driving his ever increasing efforts to protect them.

  Jack's gaze swept the room. The piles of gear and tools appeared haphazard, but on closer inspection it became evident that the materials had been assembled and disassembled hundreds of times, the work causing parts to be scattered around a host of work spaces.

  “Any chance you have a cloak?” Jack asked. “Mine didn't survive the Machine.”

  “Ah,” Thalidon said, and threaded a gap to a series of cloaks hanging against the wall. “A shaden will bend the shadows around you, obscuring your form when you wish to hide.”

  “And during the day?”

  “It will look like a normal cloak,” he said. “If you try to use it during the day the magic will not work. It also carries other augmentations that will aid your passage in the Evermist.”

  Jack picked a shaden that looked like it would fit and wrapped it about his shoulders. Comfortable and made of fine wool, it would serve to keep him warm on cold nights as well as help him evade pursuit. He smiled in admiration and turned to the dwarf.

  “You have my gratitude.”

  “And you have my gold.”

  He arced an eyebrow. “I assumed—”

  “It was free?” Thalidon laughed heartily. “It isn't. The lot will cost you two hundred gold pieces.”

  Jack balked at the price. “A king's ransom for a few baubles?”

  Thalidon scowled at that and held out a hand. “If you don't want the gear you can return it.”

  Jack began to laugh. Quiet at first, it built into a roar. The dwarf had let him don the tools knowing he would want them—as slick a con as he'd ever witnessed.

  “Twenty gold,” he said. “It's all I have on me. I assume I can pay the rest out of my earnings?”

  “With interest, of course,” Thalidon said with a grin.

  Jack laughed again, and this time the humor was tinged with admiration. “How long have you been here, dwarf?”

  “Twenty-two years,” the dwarf said with a grunt.

  Jack peaked an eyebrow at that. “Before the Guildmaster?”

  “Just after,” he said. “The man wanted my brother and me to work on the Machine.”

  “You built the Machine?”

  The dwarf jerked his head in the negative. “The Machine dates back to the guild's taking of the citadel, but back then it was used more to train.”

  “You made it lethal,” Jack said, the smile fading from his face.

  The dwarf's expression darkened. “The Guildmaster has a way with manipulation,” he snapped, and stabbed a finger at the door. “You've taken enough of my time. Be on your way.”

  The shift in Thalidon's mood drove Jack from the chamber and left him pondering the unusual dwarf's past. It was not uncommon for a dwarf to live a life of crime, but few dwarves with such mechanical experience would choose to do so—especially a fire mage.

  He exhaled, irritated that the Guildmaster presented such a distraction. Years of living on the streets had inured him to fear, yet this man inspired the emotion in a way Jack had not felt in some time.

  Deep into the night he growled and stared at the ceiling, unable to resolve the questions in his mind. He was no closer to finding his targets, and even when he did the Guildmaster would pose a challenge. Jack had no desire to be a thief his whole life—his sole purpose here was to punish those responsible for killing his mother.

  Even if he managed to exact his revenge without the Guildmaster knowing, escaping the guild would be nearly impossible. Shrugging it off, he focused on his targets. He recalled Slyver gesturing down a hall while he'd showed him around. He'd insinuated that the Guildmaster kept a hall of records that detailed past assignments. Perhaps it would have the answers he sought.

  Rising, he slipped out of his rooms and prowled the halls. Ember Hall was quiet except for a pair of drunken men betting on dice. The fire had burned low, and Jack abruptly decided to test his new tools. Pointing to the ceiling, he activated his shadowhook and sent a streak of darkness upward.

  The thread of black clung to the side of a pillar and yanked him off the floor. Wind flowed about him as he soared upward, the sensation both exhilarating and frightening. Rebounding off a pillar, he alighted on a balcony that overlooked the hall and looked back. He’d crossed fifty feet in seconds with hardly an effort, prompting him to tap his bracer and smile.

  “You have my gratitude, dwarf.”

  Eager to see more, Jack turned away from Ember Hall and strode down the corridor. On silent feet he prowled the halls of the citadel, utilizing every opportunity to use his shadowhook. Twice he soared into the darkened ceiling to allow slaves to pass him by, relishing the sensation of wrapping himself in the shadow-bending cloak.

  He found the desired corridor and slipped into the shadows out of view of the two guards. He'd expected the room to be protected by a lock but not by men. He frowned and cast about for a way past them. Like most of the halls of the citadel, the corridor was wide and vaulted. Crossbeams extended from the walls and held brackets of light orbs.

  He aimed his shadowhook into the darkness above and used it to ascend. The beam creaked as his weight settled onto it. He held his breath but neither of the guards approached. Then he reached to his second gauntlet and activated the rune secreted beneath a fold in the leather. It was the same one he'd used at Lord Saris's manor, and the muffling charm silenced anything in the vicinity.

  He took his time advancing across the beams until he stood above the door into the hall of records. After some searching he found an area where a pair of stones had been removed and replaced with a false wall. He smiled at the thought that he wasn't the first to seek answers in the chamber. Then he pulled the wall open and slipped inside.

  Contained within a massive turret, the hall of records was hollow from top to bottom, allowing the balconies an open view of the interior of the turret. Jack's entrance brought him to the third level. He eased onto the catwalk that wrapped around the turret. Then he activated his light stone, casting a beam of illumination on the books filling the shelves.

  The records were filed by name, so it didn't take him long to find a record on Kuraltus. As the head of the elven guildhall the elf had countless books detailing his exploits. Nemeth took more time, but Jack managed to find a group of dusty archives about him. Without time to read the numerous volumes, Jack noted the spot for further research and moved on in search of the final survivor.

  He paused often to listen and scan the darkened turret, and well after midnight Jack found Shelt. A quick perusal of his records revealed the man had died from injuries sustained on an assignment six years ago. No mention was made of the assignment, but the injury described was enough for Jack to recall seeing his mother's dagger sink into the man's thigh.

  A grim smile spread on his features as he mentally added Shelt to the tally of killers his mother had slain. Returning the book to its slot, he withdrew from the library. He would have time after his assignment with Forlana to learn what he needed to hunt them. Returning to his chambers, he lay in bed as a smile crossed his fac
e.

  One down. Two to go.

  Chapter 9: Forlana

  Jack woke the following morning and rose with a groan, regretting the late night. Reluctantly he climbed from the comfortable bed and strapped on his new equipment. He put the webbing on over his tunic and found it to be snug but not tight. Then he slipped the various tools into pouches or strapped them into place. He finished by donning the shaden before stepping in front of the mirror.

  He smiled, pleased with the look. Then he stepped into the hall and strode toward the eastern side of the castle. On his tour, Slyver had shown him the small docks that extended into the lake. Exiting the fortress, Jack stepped onto the stone pier and advanced toward the boat at the end. He skirted an alligator on the dock and stepped onto the boat. When he did a man snapped at him.

  “Never board a ship without permission from the captain!”

  Jack turned to find a skinny man tying a rope at the helm. His brown hair hung down his back in a ponytail, and he had the weathered skin of someone used to being in the sun. Likely a sailor in his past life, the thief wore clothing more suited to boating than stealing.

  “My apologies,” Jack said. “I was told to meet Forlana here.”

  “She went on ahead,” the captain said irritably.

  A step caused Jack to turn and spot Ursana picking her way around the alligator. He'd dismissed her because she looked to be young and weak, but her display on the Machine had shown her skills. Jack inclined his head in respect. She returned the gesture and then came to a halt at the end of the dock.

  “Permission to come aboard?”

  The captain smirked at Jack and gestured for her forward. She stepped over the railing and moved to a bench. Then she drew a much larger crossbow than he had received and began toying with it.

  “Where's Gordon?” the captain demanded.

  “Probably sleeping late,” Jack said, recalling he was the man who'd slept the entire day while waiting for Slyver to show up at the Dragon's Fire.

  They waited an hour before he showed up, and when he did the man rushed across the dock. His clothes and hair disheveled, he nearly ran into the alligator before he suddenly saw it and veered around.

  “You're late,” the captain said coldly.

  “My apologies,” he said. “Permission to come aboard?”

  The captain gestured to the deck. Once Gordon was aboard the captain removed the mooring ropes and stepped to the wheel. At his touch the ship shuddered, and the water magic pulled it out into the lake.

  Barely twenty feet long, the vessel was little more than a deck and railings. It lacked any space below decks, but Jack noticed an assortment of compartments built into the side. Evidently used to transport thieves more than goods, the swamp ship was more agile than it appeared, and responded to every touch by the captain.

  The boat glided through the fog until it reached the eastern side of the lake, and then slipped into a twisting river. The current flowed through the roots of giant cypress trees, and moved like mud beneath the ship's keel. Ducking a low branch, Jack peered into the gloom ahead.

  “Where are we going?”Gordon asked.

  “The Amazonian jungle,” the captain said. “Which means I have just three days to get you in order.”

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” Jack turned to face him—and his eyes widened in shock.

  Instead of the captain, Forlana stood at the helm. Gone were the ponytail and the weathered skin, as well as her outer clothing. Her bald head shining, she stood dressed in dark thieves clothing. Noticing Jack's stunned expression, the others turned as well. Forlana smirked at them.

  “Lesson one, a persona is more than a name.”

  Gordon began to laugh, a deep belly rattling that shook his whole frame. “Flawless,” he said. “Simply flawless.”

  Forlana inclined her head in gratitude and then gestured to a compartment situated against the boat's railing. Jack swung it open to find wigs, clothing, and bottles of colored paste. He picked one up and read the label.

  “Light elven skin.”

  “A quality persona is armor,” Forlana said. “It shrouds you in a guise powerful enough to give you access to your target without ever drawing a blade. Guild thieves have impersonated kings, monks, soldiers, and mages without ever being discovered.

  “Light mages can alter their appearance,” Ursana said.

  “True,” Forlana said. “But that is a higher order spell. In time you may even acquire pendants that will help you alter your appearance. These—” She gestured to the compartments of the ship. “—will let you practice what you will inevitably need. Much of it carries minor charms, allowing them to be more than just paint. Today we are going to practice elves.”

  She went on to explain the various pieces they would use to turn themselves into elves. Jack found the task distasteful, and he made a point of telling Forlana, repeatedly. Finally, she blew out her breath and growled at him.

  “Learn or don't, Jack. I don't really care—but mark my words, fail to master this and you will see your face on every guardhouse in Lumineia. Within a year you will see a noose about your neck and your swift rise in the guild will only be matched by your fall at the end of a rope.”

  Stung by her words, he made to argue but couldn't find the words. She was right, and he knew it. Grunting in irritation he picked up the ointment that would make him look like an elf and spread it across his face.

  Throughout the afternoon he worked on his appearance using a small mirror. With the oppressive heat of the swamp the mask materials were stifling, but he did his best to follow her advice. As irritating as it was to admit, she knew her craft. By nightfall she'd turned them all into elves. Seeing Ursana's appearance change so dramatically encouraged Jack, and he completed his persona shortly after her. Forlana brought the ship to a halt to inspect them.

  “Well done,” she said to Ursana, and smiled at her. “Be certain you cover all the red in your hair or it will be noticed. You have a gift for this that I would suggest you cultivate.”

  The words brought a smile to Ursana's elven features. Then she stepped to Gordon and shook her head in disapproval.

  “Your features are too strong to pass easily as an elf, and your frame appears at odds with your new persona. If you hope to pass as an elf, I'd recommend you attempt to appear as an unkempt one, and use your belly to your advantage.”

  Then she stepped to Jack. “Acceptable,” she said, “but I wouldn't recommend using this type of persona any time soon.” She turned to address all of them. “Use a persona in casual settings first, such as an inn or tavern. Never adopt a new persona on assignment. Now clean up. We have a refuge ahead where we will stay for the night.”

  As Jack expunged the elven persona she guided the boat further down the river until they reached a tiny dock. Mooring to it, she disembarked and led them to a small house that sat adjacent to the river.

  Jack was pleased to find the house clean and orderly, albeit small. A trio of bunk beds dominated the three corners, while a cold hearth sat in the fourth. The kitchen sat adjacent to it and looked onto the table at the center of the cabin.

  Forlana gestured to the fireplace. “Gordon, get a fire going, would you?”

  They set about preparing an evening meal, and an hour later Jack breathed in the steam rising off his bowl. Evidently as good a chef as she was a thief, Forlana sank into one of the chairs and dipped her bread into the stew.

  “No sleep just yet,” she said to Gordon, who began to yawn. “Tonight you learn the tenets of our guild.”

  “Tenets?” Ursana asked, staring at the bald woman.

  “First,” Forlana said. “Never betray the guild—especially when you get caught. Don't reveal the names of your companions or your own. Live and die with your persona intact. In return the guild will attempt to help you escape a hanging. If you break the first tenet, the Guildmaster makes certain the execution takes place, even if he does it himself.”

  “Is he always so excess
ive?” Gordon asked.

  “Always,” Forlana said, her easy smile gone.

  Jack grunted in annoyance. “And what's the second tenet?”

  “We do not ask questions about the contract or the benefactor. What we steal is the only thing that matters, not who or why.”

  Jack began to laugh. “This place is more disciplined than the Griffin army.”

  “That isn't high praise,” Gordon said.

  “True,” Forlana said wryly. “And we frequently exploit their weaknesses. But even there our thieves eventually get caught, which is where guild loyalty becomes an asset. As long as you don't break guild tenets, we try to get you out before they have a chance to execute you.”

  “What sort of contracts do we usually get?” Jack asked.

  “Everything you can imagine,” she said. “We’ve stolen a king’s crown for his exiled son, a victory from a warrior, and a heart from a lover. We believe there is nothing in Lumineia that cannot be stolen.”

  “And I’d hoped this would be a relaxing career,” Gordon said, stifling a yawn.

  “It's late,” Forlana said with a smile. “And we have a long day tomorrow. We'll have plenty of time to talk while you learn the swamp.”

  “We're walking from here?” Jack asked.

  “Only guild thieves pass safely in the Evermist,” she said. “Tomorrow, you learn why.”

  She ate the last of her stew and drained her mug. Then she set them on the table and stabbed a finger at Jack.

  “Jack gets the dishes tonight.”

  “Why me?” he protested.

  “Because you annoy me,” she said with a laugh.

  Jack sputtered a retort but Gordon slid his bowl to him. “She's right.”

  “It's true,” Ursana said, and added hers to the pile.

  Jack growled and took the bowls to the sink. By the time he finished Gordon was already asleep and Ursana had climbed into the bunk above him. Jack ascended to the bed above Forlana.