Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  It was an idiotic idea, to go after Cimir’s operation. A Stonemar was no laughing matter, nor was a sorcerer. But Ossic, in his brilliance and wisdom, thought it prudent to rile up the hornets’ nest. And now a good man was dead, and a good woman was left without the only person she had ever loved. All because Ossic thought it best to taunt a being made of stone and magic.

  “We are regretful of this passing,” a man said, coming up from behind Ossic. The voice was familiar, it belonged to Grant. Grant was one of the messengers, a voice of the guild, who ensured that each of the ward captains were in-line with the will of Head Guildmaster.

  “As am I,” Ossic said, his voice hoarse with sadness. “I was careless.”

  “The Guild doesn’t cast the blame at your feet. But when one of ours is dead and in the ground, we must take the lives of two, that is our way,” Grant whispered. “But we need a name.”

  Ossic shook his head. “I cannot speak through you, Grant. I must stand before the council and share what I have.”

  “Names first. Two names, for retribution,” Grant insisted. “There is no other way.”

  “There is no timer attached to these rules, sacred as they may be, we are not to rush headlong into these things,” Ossic replied. “We must call a moot.”

  “A moot,” Grant snickered. “Are you serious? Over one man?”

  “It’s not just one man,” Ossic said. “I fear that we are looking into the eyes of a beast that will hungrily devour this city. If we are not clever enough to take advantage of them, to get control of this beast, we will be devoured as well.”

  “You speak of the Cimirite producers?” Grant asked. “We already voted on that. Leave them to their trade.”

  “And when they interfere with us?” Ossic asked, turning to face the pale man. Grant’s eyes had deep circles around them. It was rare for either man to be awake during the daytime.

  Grant shrugged. “We will deal with it then. But they have no intentions of doing harm to anyone. Simple men of business, as I recall the boss saying.”

  “Well they have killed one of our own,” Ossic said. “I believe the time to deal with it is now.”

  Grant was silent for a moment. He slowly nodded and let out a sigh. “I will call for a moot. We shall convene on the morrow.”

  Ossic mouthed a word of thanks to the man and turned his attention back to the priestess, who was crying out in agony at the death of the young man. She howled and screamed, in the hopes that her anger and pain would soothe the savage spirit of the deceased. Miron would not come back for revenge, he was a kind and gentle man. The only reason he had volunteered for this assignment was because he had been taking flute lessons and wanted the opportunity to play.

  Chapter 30:

  The boat rocked back and forth as it sailed through the canals of Glimmer. Without the magical properties, the water had taken on a murky, filthy look and Elias could hardly see his reflection as he watched the water pass by. The stench grew unbearable as they made it closer toward their intended destination.

  Markov sat across from Elias, sitting in stoic silence, with his arms crossed. Not a hint of worry was across his face, he almost seemed relaxed. The oarsmen standing at the helm, with his single long oar, continued ferrying, his eyes trained on Elias for some reason. Shivers ran down his spine as he tried to avoid the navigator’s gaze.

  A meeting had been set up, between this so-called Thieves Guild and Elias. Markov had negotiated terms and assurance was made about Elias’ safety. Perhaps they were afraid of retribution from Cimir. While Elias had spread rumors of Cimir’s wellbeing, the opposite was true. The sorcerer was still paralyzed, recovering in a safehouse under the care of the Red Triangle crew. It was fortunate he had the employ of doctors and healers.

  “Are we certain about this?” Elias hissed.

  Markov glanced at him and shrugged. “My contacts have assured me that your safety is their prime concern. They’ve actually been wanting to meet you for quite some time.”

  “So, you say,” Elias mumbled. He was unsure if the oarsman was unaffiliated with the guild or not, but he must have some connection to the group. After all, he was the one ferrying them to the secret hideout. Could he speak freely in front of the silent stranger? He didn’t know.

  “Relax, they wouldn’t try anything stupid. They are businessmen like you,” Markov replied.

  “Thieves and murderers,” Elias replied. “Hardly a savory business.”

  “But a business all the same,” Markov said.

  Little else was said on the rest of the journey. Elias didn’t know what to say about any of this. Markov’s demeanor was the only thing to keep him from panicking. The man was relaxed, as if this was nothing more than another simple meeting.

  “Gentlemen,” wheezed the oarsman as their boat sailed under one of the bridges, “we are here. A word of caution, when dealing with these men. They know far more about you than you about them. Bluffing will bring you little reward here.” And with that, he took his long oar and pressed it up against the left facing wall under the bridge. The wall swung open, revealing a dark corridor leading into the underground meeting space.

  “Well, let’s get this over with,” Markov said as he stood and climbed out of the boat. “I’m getting too old to be out all night anymore.”

  “I know what you mean,” Elias agreed. He hesitated, waiting for Markov to take the lead. Despite the fact that his companion was well armed and confident, Elias could not help but feel anxiety over this meeting. They were about to go deep into the underground, in territory owned by thieves who were most likely looking for revenge. Sure, Elias had a pocket full of crystals and a necklace meant to activate at a moment’s notice, but there was nothing to help with poisons. Cimir was still unable to work and his apprentice was of little use when it came to learning new spells. He was a sitting duck until the sorcerer was able to recover.

  Still, a meeting would be better than waiting for an assassin to stab him to death in his sleep, so Elias continued following after Markov, hoping against hope that these men could see some type of reason. If not, well, lightning bolts might make for a more persuasive argument. At least, if Elias had time to pull the crystal from his pocket and use it.

  The corridor sloped down for quite some time. The torches lining the wall were sparse, making for enough of a gap that the shadows were long and menacing. They walked in silence, until they reached a large, wooden door.

  “Here we are,” Markov said. “You ready?”

  “You been here before?” Elias asked.

  Markov shrugged. “Once. It was…interesting.”

  Elias took a deep breath and pushed past Markov, putting his hand on the door handle. If he was going to be here, he needed to look as if he weren’t scared out of his mind. “Let’s go,” he said as he twisted the knob and opened the door.

  Much to his surprise, there was just a round wooden table with eight men seated. A sumptuous banquet of food awaited, the smell of fresh cooked ham wafted through the air, causing Elias’ mouth to water. He hadn’t eaten since Markov told him the news this morning. A few wait servants were scuttling about, pouring wine for the men and offering cigars.

  One woman approached them and bowed. “Welcome, may I take your coats?” she asked. Markov nodded and handed her his coat as did Elias, she bowed again and scuttled off.

  “This is definitely different from what I had imagined,” Elias whispered.

  “Me too,” Markov quietly replied. “They sure as hell didn’t feed me last time.”

  “Gentlemen!” a portly man wearing a burgundy tunic said as he stood to his feet. “Come and sit at the table, there is much to discuss.”

  Elias glanced at Markov who merely shrugged and moved toward the empty seats at the table. The others all smiled and nodded as Elias took his seat. A plate and wine glass were before him. Within seconds of sitting down, a young boy rushed up and poured him a glass of red wine.

  “Help yourself,” said a woman with
an eyepatch. She was seated next to Elias and gestured towards the spread of cheeses, meats and grapes.

  Elias was quick to grab a few pieces of cheese and a hunk of bread. He was unsure of the custom but figured that eating would be the most polite route to go. Markov abstained, but then again, he probably knew little about intricacies of diplomacy.

  “Introductions are in order,” the portly man said as he helped himself to another piece of ham, cutting into it was a long, thick blade. “You may refer to me as the Supreme Shadow.

  “Yes, of course,” Elias said.

  This caused the entire table to burst out into laughter. Elias’ face grew a little red. “I am unaware of the joke,” he sheepishly mumbled.”

  “His name is Kimpter,” the one-eyed woman said. “I am Piala.”

  The table went round quickly, with each of the members introducing themselves. They were warm and kindly, full of mirth and eager to share stories with Elias. It felt more as if he were sitting in a council meeting than if he were talking to cold and calculating criminals.

  Once the idle chatter fell by the wayside, Kimpter spoke again. “Now, let us talk business. As you are aware, we are the top minds of the Thieves Guild. We manage all manner of criminal activities within Glimmer. Thievery, fencing, no-questions asked protection and the lot. We’ve been operational for the last hundred years in this city and since our creation, we’ve ensured two things. The first is that those who are looking to live below the law are able to conduct business safely and with access to resources necessary to do their jobs. And the second is that the city itself find no reason to dedicate their time and energy into eliminating us.”

  Kimpter raised a glass to Markov, who merely nodded at him. He continued speaking. “We heard of your curious operation a few months ago. It triggered a bit of a crisis, really. Some argued that since you were committing crimes in our territory, you were obligated to pay our taxes and join our group. Others made the case that you weren’t really criminals, but just businessmen who should be left alone. We eventually made a decision, that as long as you stayed clear of our enterprise, we’d stay clear of yours. A professional courtesy, if you will. After all, some of our people have made purchases from your enterprise. No reason to cut off the only supply of magic in the town.”

  Elias nodded at that. “I can see the logic behind that decision.”

  Kimpter’s eyebrows furrowed a little. “But unfortunately, and this is indeed quite unfortunate for everyone at the table, you crossed us last week. Interfering with our operation, kidnapping one of our own suppliers and then, worst of all when we sent our people to retrieve Fredlin, you had one of our men killed.”

  “That was unfortunate, yes,” Elias said. He took a sip of the wine, to demonstrate how unconnected he was from the problem in front of him. These were men and women of power. There was no room for passion here, he knew. No, they had called him in to discuss business. Hence all the food and kindness. “But let’s not pretend that the circumstances didn’t warrant some level of retribution. 30 masked men appear on our doorstep and accost our sorcerer, how are we to reply? Lay down and watch as he is murdered?”

  “A ward boss was present, Ossic. Reliable and intelligent,” Jepeth interjected. “His report was thorough about the attack. We asked for our man back and the sorcerer went to attack us.”

  Elias crossed his arms. “We simply won’t accept the blame. The situation would have never happened if this were handled diplomatically.”

  Kimpter frowned at that. He crossed his arms as well, to mirror Elias. “Sending a small army of thugs and a rock monster to collect one of ours isn’t diplomatic.”

  “We…misread the situation,” Elias said. “Those potions are made from our product. We reasoned that this meant someone was infringing upon our own sales and thus needed to be stopped. We were unaware of his affiliation.”

  “Be that as it may,” Irene said, tapping her hand against the table, “you blew it. Bigtime.”

  Those words sent a chill down Elias spine, but he kept his face stern and strong. “I don’t see it that way. A simple messenger could have avoided the whole problem. You are the ones at fault, not us.”

  Kimpter shrugged. “We must agree to disagree then. And that brings us to the reason we invited you here. Our guild operates by some rules, key rules that we follow to ensure that outsiders understand and fear us, enough so to leave us alone.”

  Elias didn’t like where this was headed. He braced himself, his hand slipping into the pocket containing the lightning crystal. He didn’t see any guards around, but then again, they were in a large, shadowy room with nothing but a table in the center. Fighters could be hiding anywhere.

  “In killing one of ours, we are now obligated by our sacred laws to initiate what is known as the blood tax. You must provide us with two of your own to be killed.”

  “Excuse me?” Elias gasped. “Killed?”

  “Gruesome, I know,” Kimpter said. “But if you kill one of ours, we kill two of yours. Simple enough, really. This law ensures you know the severity of what crossing us looks like. Markov knows full well of these rules. Retribution will do nothing of course, except increase the debt owed to the blood tax. You are the leader, the head of the organization, and so it would be fitting for you to choose whom you will pay with. Normally, we extract the tax without regard to the desires of the organization, but you’re different.”

  “How so?” Markov asked. He seemed to be alert now and was actively scanning the room for threats.

  “You provide a service that we want to keep running,” Kimpter replied. “Magical items are valuable, and we can derive a valuable secondary market with our potions racket. So, killing the leader and the sorcerer are off the table, since we need you both to keep the operation going. Besides, I would prefer that we have a healthy and close relationship with you, Elias. Our reach is wide, and our capabilities are many. We can help you and you can help us.”

  “But the price is the lives of two of my employees?” Elias asked, laughing a little at the absurdity. “Are you aware of how insane this sounds?”

  Kimpter’s face darkened. He leaned forward and stabbed his knife into the table. “Think of how absurd the opposite would be for you. If you won’t work with us, then you are a threat to us. And if you are a threat, then your organization must die. We will dispatch our assassins and end the lives of everyone in your employ. Cimirite will fade away and magic will be gone. But it’s a small price to pay to eliminate the enemies of the Thieves Guild.”

  “Are you threatening us?” Markov growled. “You know it wouldn’t end well for you.”

  “Markov, we would never harm you or your men,” Kimpter said. “But you certainly couldn’t protect Mr. Elias here. But let’s be perfectly clear, I certainly don’t want it to come to that. We are civil men who want the best for each other, are we not? So, pay the blood tax and let us revel in a new friendship!”

  Elias did not know what to say. What was scarier, the prospect of having two of his own people murdered in cold blood, or the chipperness in which Kimpter requested the deed? This situation was far too horrific to consider. He shook his head. “I fear that if you want to kill two of my own, you will not get my permission,” Elias said. “We have done no harm to you other than fight back to a perceived attack.”

  Kimpter shrugged. “I want you to really consider the situation at hand, Elias. Think about it. Your organization is new. You’ve been around for only a short while and you don’t have connections necessary to win this fight. Sure, you have people working for you, the crew working out of the Red Triangle and you’ve got a few districts firmly under your command, but you don’t have the muscle to fight back. And worst yet, you don’t have the ability to muster up the right kind of people to take us down. Because our fingers are long, and they stretch across this entire city. You might have a foothold in six districts, but I have a team in every single district.”

  “You forget we possess magic,” Elias replied. �
��Numbers mean nothing when we can kill you without seeing you.”

  “Ah yes, your paralyzed man, stuck in a safehouse in the Tower District,” Kimpter chuckled. “Or did you think we didn’t know? Eyes are everywhere. No matter how safe you think you are, my people are watching. Cimir is only alive right now because of the offer we have on the table for you. Trust me, I would much rather this conversation end on a friendly note.”

  Elias sighed and glanced at Markov. The man wore an expression that Elias had not seen on him before, was it fear? That did not bode well.

  “I fear that I cannot make this decision now,” Elias said, facing Kimpter again. “For I am not the sole owner of this operation. The sorcerer is a voting partner as well. I cannot make a decision without his approval, as is our custom.”

  “And customs are to be respected, of course,” Kimpter said, nodding to that. “You have until the stroke of midnight tomorrow. Send two of your own, whomever you wish, to the Broken Oyster tavern in the Beggar’s District before midnight. We know your roster already. If no one arrives, then it will be a declaration of war on us. And we will respond in kind. If your people show up on time, well, it will be seen as a token of friendship. And there will certainly be reciprocation on our part.”