Child of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  “Bert!” She threw herself to her knees beside the Hawk, seizing his hand. “I’m so sorry, Bert. I’m so sorry!”

  “I-Ila…” He coughed, a weak, wet gurgle. “Ilanna…”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Easy, Bert. Tyman will fix you up. You’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

  His open eyes fixed on her, unmoving, unseeing. He gave her a faint smile, his skin pale against the blood staining his face. With a weak gasp, his final breath trickled from his lungs.

  “Ilanna!” Prynn knelt beside her, shouting in her ear. He sounded so far away. “What happened, Ilanna?”

  “I-I…” Her numb mind refused to form coherent words. What could she say? “He…”

  “Are you hurt?”

  Blood stained her brown clothing, her gloves, her arms. She shook her head. “It-it’s…his…”

  Werrin dragged her away from the body. “Don’t look, Ilanna. Don’t look at it.”

  She followed on numb feet, unprotesting. Sobs racked her body and a wave of sorrow crashed into her. Werrin’s arms wrapped around her. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing. She couldn’t look at Bert. Not after what she’d done to him.

  * * *

  “It’s not your fault, Ilanna.” Denber gripped her shoulders. “It could have happened to any of us.”

  Ilanna met his gaze with unseeing eyes. She didn’t feel his hands on her shoulders or the cuts on her arms and knees. She felt nothing but a dull ache in the pit of her stomach.

  “We all know the risk when we go up there. It’s why we spend so much time training on the Perch before we take to the rooftops.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Go, Ilanna.” Denber pushed her toward her room. “Rest. I’ll deal with Master Hawk and the Journeymen. I’ll tell them what you told me. Bert stumbled and fell, and you tried to catch him, right?” He scanned her face, concern in his eyes.

  “Y-Yes.” She couldn’t form more than that single word. Everything she’d said since Bert’s death had been a lie. Every word had been like a knife to the heart. But she’d had no choice. They wouldn’t understand. They can’t.

  How could she explain that she’d felt Sabat’s hand on her arm, his breath on her shoulder? The touch had filled her with an overwhelming terror. Memories of that horrible day had slammed into her and she’d acted without thinking.

  And Bert died because of it.

  What would Master Hawk do if she told him what had really happened? The Night Guild had proven itself short on mercy far too many times to count. She couldn’t allow herself be expelled from House Hawk—or suffer a fate worse—over something so stupid. I-It was just an accident! It’s not my fault!

  The words rang hollow in her mind. She knew the truth.

  * * *

  “Bertimastus.” Denber gave a laugh as harsh as the agor in his cup. “What sort of stupid name is that?”

  A few chuckles arose from the apprentices. Ilanna couldn’t summon the strength to smile. She stared at her cup with unseeing eyes.

  “Messy bastard, wasn’t he?” Willem swallowed hard and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Always eating food in bed.”

  “Always eating,” Werrin chimed in. He coughed, drank, and coughed harder.

  Prynn snorted. “Never could arrive anywhere on time. Always made it late, with that goofy grin on his face.” He buried his face in the liquor.

  All eyes turned to Ilanna. She couldn’t take her eyes from the floor. The words seemed to stick in her throat. Only her fingers moved, working ceaselessly at the swirls etched into the metal cup.

  “A good lad,” Jarl grunted—an eloquent statement coming from him.

  “A good Hawk.” Denber raised his cup. “To Bert.”

  “To Bert,” the other Hawks echoed.

  Ilanna drank then, didn’t stop until she emptied the cup. She welcomed the burn in her throat, the bite of alcohol in her gut. The liquor made her head spin, but no amount of agor could wash away the memories of Bert’s wide-eyed expression of terror as he teetered on the edge of the roof. That didn’t stop her from holding out her cup for a refill. She’d be damned if she didn’t keep drinking until the pain faded.

  * * *

  “Ilanna, it’s past midnight. You have to sleep.”

  Ilanna ignored Prynn. Her stick clacked off the wooden practice dummy over and over. Her hands, arms, and shoulders ached, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t.

  “Ilanna!”

  She rounded on him, tears in her eyes. “Leave me alone, Prynn!”

  “It won’t bring him back.”

  “So what? Just let me be!”

  “Ilanna, you—”

  “Go away, Prynn. Leave me alone.”

  The Aerie echoed the clack of wood striking wood, but Prynn slipped away in silence.

  Ilanna hacked and slashed at the practice dummy. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to try to sleep. Sleep would evade her and she would see only Bert’s face. She couldn’t watch the life in his eyes slowly fade and die. Not again.

  Tears blurred her eyes, mixing with the sweat rolling down her face. Faster and faster she struck. Sabat’s face leered in her vision. She fought with the memory of what he’d done to her. She could never be rid of him. She’d killed her friend because of him.

  It’s your fault! She wanted to shout the words into the darkened Aerie. She wanted to spit in his face, to wrap her fingers around his throat and squeeze. She wanted to watch the light fade from his eyes, not from Bert’s.

  She unleashed her rage on the dummy, but it did little to assuage the seething maelstrom in her mind. No matter what Sabat had done, he hadn’t killed Bert. She’d done that. She had no one but herself to blame.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ilanna pounded on the double doors of House Serpent. Intertwining threads of silver snaked their way around the massive viper-headed knockers. Green gems set into the serpents’ eyes glowed in the dim torchlight. The stones radiated a chilling menace that sent a shudder down her spine.

  The door creaked open and an apprentice wearing green robes poked his head out. “What do you want?”

  “Ullard. Is he here?”

  He eyed her up and down. “Why?” He looked a year or two younger than her and stood a handspan shorter.

  “None of your business. That’s between me and the Journeyman.”

  The young Serpent raised an eyebrow. “What if I—”

  Ilanna shoved the door, hard. It swung open, knocking the apprentice off balance. She strode in without waiting for an invitation.

  She shuddered. Where the Aerie was bright and spacious, the Viper-Pit, as the Serpents called it, was a dark, gloomy place. No sunlight filtered into the Pit; the only light came from beamers and torches hanging in sconces. A pall hung over the low-ceilinged chamber. The obsidian walls wept water, filling the room with a musty, damp scent that blended with the reek of dried sweat and blood.

  She turned to the young apprentice. “Where is he?”

  The Serpent picked himself up from the ground. “Now, wait just one minute. If you think I’ll—”

  Ilanna stepped toward him, her eyes burning. “Where. Is. He?”

  Gulping, the boy pointed down a side passage. “Common room. But he don’t like being disturbed at his meal.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll risk it.”

  She stalked down the corridor and burst into the Serpent common room. A handful of green-robed apprentices sat around the tables. They goggled at her, mouths hanging open. Ilanna ignored them.

  Her eyes fell on the Journeyman at the table. “Ullard, I need a sword.”

  Ullard gave no indication he’d heard her, but continued spooning stew into his mouth.

  Ilanna gritted her teeth. “Journeyman Ullard. Please.”

  The Serpent grunted. “A real one?” He didn’t look up from his food.

  “Yes. We’ve been training over a year now. Don’t you think it’s time for me to handle proper ste
el?”

  Ullard pushed back his bowl and turned to face her. His eyes narrowed and he stroked his chin. “Why?”

  His question caught her off guard. “What do you mean ‘why’? To protect myself, of course.”

  “From who?”

  Ilanna reddened and she dropped his gaze. “F-from…anyone. Anyone out there.”

  Ullard raised an eyebrow. “Might be a bit odd to see a young girl carrying a sword on the streets of Praamis, don’t you think? Could attract unwanted attention.”

  She snorted. “You’re telling me the Serpents have no way to conceal a blade?”

  Ullard inclined his head. “It’ll cost. More than you’d imagine. Unless you want a practice blade.”

  “Not a chance. I want the best you have.” She dropped a purse onto the table. “If this isn’t enough, I’ll get more.”

  “Hmm.” The purse clinked in Ullard’s hand. “It’s a start.”

  Ilanna nodded. “Then I’ll get you the rest. When can you have it ready?”

  “I’ll bring it to the Aerie tomorrow.”

  Ilanna crossed her arms. “Denber isn’t going to hear about this, is he?”

  Ullard hesitated a heartbeat too long before answering. “Of course not.”

  “Good.” She turned to leave.

  “Hawkling.” His words stopped her. “This is House Serpent, not the Aerie. Remember that if you ever come back.”

  She met his eyes and shivered at the menace written there. You come in here, they seemed to say, you show me the respect I’m due.

  With a nod, she strode from the common room. She ignored the too-curious glances of the younger Serpents and the glare of the green-robed apprentice at the entrance to the House. Her heart raced as she strode through the tunnels back to House Hawk. She had what she came for.

  * * *

  A small part of Ilanna felt glad to be on solid earth. In the weeks following Bert’s death, she’d dreaded returning to the rooftops. Prynn had noticed and kept her occupied with duties on the ground. Today, he’d ordered her to run an errand for Master Hawk. She’d passed the morning walking the streets of Praamis, delivering a handful of messages around the city. The job of a Hound, perhaps, but she didn’t care. Anything to keep her feet securely on the cobblestones.

  She’d completed her errand half an hour ago, but had no orders to return to the Aerie. Prynn won’t mind if I take a few hours for myself.

  The weight of her new saber comforted her. The special pants Ullard had made for her concealed the slim blade. They made walking awkward, but she would grow accustomed to them. And she only needed to wear them on the streets. Up on the rooftops, she could wear the scabbard on her back.

  Ilanna wanted to visit her garden, but something made her take a longer route through the back streets and alleys of Praamis. She told herself it was to avoid an encounter with the Praamian Guard. They would look askance at a girl carrying a concealed sword. Better to be safe.

  But she knew better. She had another reason for taking the circuitous path to her garden. Bert’s death had filled her with anger—at herself and at the person responsible for her troubles. If she could find him…

  Cries of pain at the far end of the alley brought a smile to her lips. It has to be.

  She strode toward the sound, unhurried and unafraid. She gripped the hilt of her saber tighter. The solid feel of leather and steel filled her with confidence.

  Sabat stood over a boy in the tattered clothing of a Fox. The small figure cringing in the mud couldn’t have been a day over ten. Tears tracked through the dirt and grime on his cheeks, and he held his hands up—a pitiful protection against the hulking Bloodbear. With a snarl, Sabat unleashed a kick powerful enough to shatter ribs. The Fox cried out and curled into a protective ball.

  Sabat spat. “You Whites think it’s all fun and games, lifting purses. But when it comes time to haul your ass out of a jam, you let us do all the work. And then you try to avoid paying what you owe?”

  The Fox tried to speak. Sabat’s kick snapped his head back, spraying blood.

  Fire burned in Ilanna’s chest. “Always picking on the weak ones, aren’t you?”

  Sabat’s head jerked up. His gaze darted toward her, eyes going wide. “Well, if it isn’t the little Hawkling, back from the dead. I’m so glad to see you recovered from your little accident.” A sneer curled his lip. “It wouldn’t do to have all the Hawks lying dead in the streets, now would it?”

  Ilanna forced herself to remain motionless, though every muscle screamed at her to rush forward and cut him down.

  Sabat turned his back on the wheezing, gagging Fox and strode toward Ilanna. “It’s a shame you’ve spent all of your time flitting around the rooftops, little Pigeon.” He spat the last word. “You could be learning some real skills, the sort of skills that makes a woman truly useful.”

  She found it hard to believe he was the same age as she. He’d grown a lot since their last encounter. At fourteen, he towered head and shoulders above her and his shoulders and waist had filled out. He had muscle beneath the fat covering his chest and belly. His hands bore scars from countless fights.

  Ilanna’s hands trembled—not with fear, but with rage. After what he’d done to her, she had wanted her revenge. She’d envisioned this moment a thousand times in the last year. Months of training with Ullard, endless hours working the practice dummies. I’m ready.

  She clenched her fists. “No more, Sabat. You’ve tormented your last poor soul.”

  “What are you going to do, little girl? Slap me to death?” He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  Ilanna stood her ground in silence. Have your fun, you bastard. Come a few steps closer and we’ll see what happens.

  Sabat reached into his cloak and drew her dagger. “I’ve got your pig poker right here.”

  “Keep it.” She watched him, judging the distance between them. Perfect. “I have another.”

  She whipped the saber from its hidden sheath. Steel whistled through the air and she slapped him hard with flat of the blade. Eyes going wide, he clapped a hand to his cheek. Blood trickled from a shallow gash below the bone. His face twisted into a snarl and he prepared to rush her.

  “Yes, please, take a step forward.” She rested the tip of her saber against the hollow of his throat and bared her teeth. “It would be so easy to end it all right here.” She moved closer, pushing on the blade.

  Sabat leaned backward to avoid being impaled. “E-Easy there, Hawkling. I was just…”

  The sword flashed and the tip carved a deep furrow along his forehead. Before he could move, the blade returned to his throat. Blood trickled into his eyes. When he tried to wipe it away, she slashed the back of his hands.

  With a cry of rage, he slapped the blade away and charged like an enraged bull. Ullard’s lessons flashed through her mind. She slipped from his path and thrust out a foot. Her kick tangled his feet and he fell face first into the alley muck.

  “Really, Sabat.” She snorted. “I thought they taught you Bloodbears how to fight.”

  He leapt to his feet, his face turning purple. “You cunt! I’ll rip you apart!” He charged again, arms spread wide to encircle her.

  She didn’t bother to dodge, simply extended her sword in a perfect thrust. Sabat’s momentum prevented him from stopping in time. He screamed as he impaled himself on her saber. The blade sliced deep into his right shoulder. She kicked out and her boot slammed into the fork of his legs.

  Sabat fell, hands clasped between his thighs. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He rolled on the street, muck staining his clothes. He screamed in mindless pain and rage. “Kill you! Kill you!”

  A vicious grin twisted Ilanna’s face. “I doubt that very much.” She drove her saber into the soft flesh behind his right knee, thrusting deep enough to strike bone.

  “What’s going on?”

  Ilanna looked up from Sabat’s huddled form. Three Bloodbears rushed down the alley, eyes wide in shock and horror. They stared
at the weeping, huddled, and bloodied heap in the muck.

  “Stay out of this, if you value your lives.”

  “You little bitch!” One of the Bloodbears—a boy smaller and clumsier than Sabat—rushed her.

  The tip of her sword stopped him in his tracks. “Stay. Out. Of. This. Don’t make me kill him, then the rest of you.” Her grin turned feral. “Just for the fun of it.”

  The Bloodbear held up his hands, jaw working soundlessly. The other two made no move to approach.

  Ilanna circled Sabat, keeping a wary eye on the Bloodbears. She slashed the muscles behind both elbows. His arms flopped limply at his side. He screamed as her blade removed the tip of an ear.

  “Please, stop!” He curled into a protective ball.

  Pitiful. Disgust twisted her stomach. And to think, I was afraid of him.

  She’d played this day over and over in her mind. She’d carved him to pieces, hacking off limbs until he was nothing more than a torso and head. But now, to see him whimpering and begging for mercy like all those he’d beaten, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Crouching beside him, she whispered into his ear. “Touch me again and I’ll finish what I started here. Got it?”

  Sabat nodded, sobbing.

  “I find out you’ve been taking it out on anyone outside of House Bloodbear, I’ll find you.”

  Wiping her blade on his clothing, she stood and sheathed her saber. I’m not done with you yet. Her boot flashed out. His head snapped back and blood sprayed from his nose and mouth. She spat. Now I’m done. She turned to face the three Bloodbears. “You know who I am?”

  They nodded.

  She thrust a finger at the sobbing Sabat. “You know what he did to me?”

  They nodded again.

  “Then you know why I did what I did. None of you were here. None of you were witness to what happened.” One of them looked about to speak. Ilanna dropped her hand to the hilt of her saber, and the Bloodbear’s mouth snapped shut. “If any word of this reaches the Houses, know that I will hunt you down.”

  The three apprentice Bloodbears nodded, eyes wide.