The Burning City (The Guildmaster Thief Book 2)

by Jake Kerr

  He leapt into the wagon's seat, and I followed behind him. I looked down, and the cart looked like nothing more than if someone was in the midst of loading or unloading it and casually tossed the tarp aside.

  As Tillson cracked the whip and the horses moved forward, Raef asked him, "How much time do we have?"

  "Not enough."

  Raef looked back at the tower. The activity around it was brisk, but everyone seemed occupied. The clearing of the Lower Quarter had everyone on edge, and it was possible no one would notice the abandoned cart for a long time.

  The books rattled in the back of the wagon as they went over the cobblestones, and Raef looked back at his precious cargo. They were secure, and he breathed easier. It would take him a long time to examine them all, but when he finished he was certain of one thing: The history of Ness would have no more secrets.

  26

  The Apprentice

  Larsen couldn't find the little wretch and was getting annoyed. He had put up with more from Keres than he had ever handled before, solely in the interest of keeping Orion happy, but now with Orion about to be removed from the picture, his annoying nephew could be dealt with. Frustrated, he grabbed a guard by the arm.

  "Where is Keres?" he asked brusquely.

  The guard turned with scowl, which instantly turned to fear as saw who it was. "Guildmaster!" He bowed his head. "He was disciplining the Captain of the Gate, sir."

  "What? Why?" Larsen knew--the boy was flouting his position as Assistant Guildmaster and ordering people around for no reason than just the joy in the power. It made Larsen sick. Still, he asked.

  "I know not, sir."

  Shaking his head, Larsen muttered, "Why would he distract the Captain of the Gate when we are in a state of war? He is needed there." Turning his attention to the guard, he snapped, "Bring him to my office. Now."

  "Yes, sir."

  It was a full hour later when Keres strode into Larsen's office, an arrogant smile on his face. Larsen stared at some papers on his desk, and in his most intimidating voice and without looking up, said, "Sit down."

  Keres sat down, but didn't say anything. After a delay that Larsen felt was long enough to let Keres know that his time belonged to Larsen, the Guildmaster looked up while pushing the paper aside.

  "I'm going to give you an opportunity that you don't deserve," Larsen said, his voice emotionless.

  "Yeah? What's that?" Keres was lounging in the chair, slouched to the side and looking at Larsen with his head tilted. He looked as if he was entertained and was simply waiting to hear what kind of foolishness Larsen was going to say next.

  "Let me outline your accomplishments first," Larsen said through clenched teeth. His instincts were to just kill the boy, but he didn't want to do anything until he confirmed Orion was dead. Instead, he'd send Keres off on a mission where he would do no harm or, just as likely, die.

  "You have angered the Guild guards with your disdain for the rules. You have angered every one of my Captains with your disregard for their authority. You have the entire guild talking of your impertinence, and you have angered my Deputy Guildmaster with your disrespect."

  Keres shrugged. "I'm the Assistant Guildmaster. They should respect me."

  The boy's arrogance triggered Larsen's temper. "Listen, welp. You are here for one reason and one reason alone--as a favor to your uncle. You are a useless little piece of refuse, whose luck is solely due to being shat out close enough to the River so that it can pretend it's a ship as it floats along the waves."

  Keres clapped his hands slowly. "That's an amusing image. Did you just come up with it now or have you used it on others?"

  Larsen took a deep breath. He realized that the boy's arrogance was so absurd that he didn't realize who he was dealing with. His options were to simply jail him or find a new way to redirect his troublesome nature. Still unsure of how the Orion scenario would play out, Larsen decided to go with the route that seemed the most likely to succeed.

  "So you want to prove yourself? You feel like your authority rivals mine?" Keres shrugged while not moving from his casual position on the chair. "Fine. I have been friends with your uncle for a long time. Perhaps I owe him a chance for you to prove your abilities with real authority." It was a lie, of course, but Keres straightened up in his chair, looking curious.

  "I'm not going to be Captain of the Money Counters."

  Larsen stared at him. He didn't know which was worse: The boy's lack of appreciation for the importance and difficulty of that job or the boy's telling Larsen which job he would or would not take.

  Shaking his head, Larsen forced a smile. "No. I am not going to name you Captain of the Money Counters. I have a much more important job for you, one related to the ongoing mission with your uncle." Of course, Orion had recently outlined his concern over Larsen's strategy, but he doubted Keres was aware of that.

  "Go on."

  By the gods Larsen hated the boy's arrogance. Taking another breath, he outlined his plan. "As you are aware, your uncle and I are consolidating our power over Ness. This involves us creating suffering among the Harvest Guild members, for which they will blame Polo. They will then remove Polo, and our path to ruling Ness will be secure."

  Keres nodded. "This is my uncle's plan?"

  "It is our plan. We will rule Ness together." Larsen slapped his hand on his desk impatiently. "But you know this. You are here as a sign of our friendship." His temper rising again, Larsen spoke through clenched teeth. "As I noted, you have abused the kindness I have shown Orion. But--" Larsen held up his hand. "I have a way that will allow you to not only contribute to your uncle's plan but to do so while earning the respect of the entire city." Larsen forced a smile. "You may even be called a hero."

  "And what is this, heroic job?"

  The tone of Keres' voice was the last straw. Larsen's anger had reached the point where he was eerily calm. He moved with an exaggerated slowness, as he spread his hands on his desk. He stared at Keres, who smiled his arrogant smile as he returned the stare.

  "It is simple. You will travel across Trader's Bridge to the Inner Fields. You will examine the intentions of Polo's guards. Are they organizing? Are they planning on attacking us over Trader's Bridge? You will then return to me and let me know what you find." Larsen leaned forward as if daring Keres to turn down the mission. "Simple."

  "My family is well-known in the Upper Triangle. It would be difficult for me to disguise myself."

  "Who said anything about a disguise?"

  "Have you lost your mind?" Keres stood up, and to Larsen's shock he actually looked angry. Pointing behind Larsen, Keres continued, "Look out on the city. Do you see the results of your idiotic plan?"

  What are you doing?" Larsen exclaimed as Keres marched around Larsen's desk. Grabbing his knife, Larsen watched as Keres ignored him and strode over to the large plate glass window behind Larsen's desk. It overlooked the Lower Quarter.

  "Fires. Battles. Refugees. Who in their right mind thought this was a good plan?"

  Larsen clenched the knife in his hand and stood up. "Your uncle."

  "My uncle?" Keres spun around and looked at Larsen. "This is all your doing, Larsen." Keres shook his head. "The Inner Fields? The moment I'm recognized, the Harvest Guild will hang me from a tree."

  Larsen approached Keres, not quite sure if he would stab him right there or have the boy dispatched deep in the guild prison. "Your cowardice does not become you," Larsen replied, walking up to the window and looking out. "The guild members know why they are being driven off--their guildmaster betrayed them. They have no issue with me."

  Larsen was about to give his ultimatum: Take the mission to the Inner Fields or die in the dungeon, but before he could say anything Keres pushed past Larsen and took a step toward the door. He paused, however, and turned.

  "I will not hang, Guildmaster, and do you know why?"

  Larsen sighed. The relentless arrogance and annoyance of Keres had sapped all his anger. Torture and death in the dung
eon it would be. "No, but I'm sure you are going to inform me."

  "Because I will be Guildmaster and fix your mistakes." And with a suddenness and violence that Larsen could not have predicted, Keres took a step and planted a hard, high kick directly into the center of Larsen's chest.

  Larsen flew backward. As he spun his arms, Larsen slammed into the window, which shattered behind him. His momentum carried him through the window and then down a long fall that ended on the smooth, hard cobblestones below.

  27

  A Guard Discovered

  While Maela was looking for an escape, Darla had been tidying the cabin and organizing things. Maela was conflicted. Their roles had somehow reversed over the past few days. Darla had embraced the quiet beauty of the Woodlands, while Maela was impatient to get away.

  On the one hand she wanted to shake Darla and tell her to focus on the important thing--escape. But on the other hand she understood the appeal of quiet domesticity, especially after they both had a life of hard violence, Darla as a Mine Guard, and Maela as a Thief Captain.

  They deserved a break.

  And to Darla's credit, she was an appropriate combination of concerned and challenged by what Maela had described.

  "Did you try every direction?"

  Maela shook her head. "No. Not every direction. I left out the back, the front, and then another direction near the front. No matter which direction I left, however, I was returned to the edge of the clearing across from he front door."

  They were sitting at their kitchen table, eating dried strawberries. "It will probably be the same no matter what direction you go," Darla replied, waving her hand while she had a strawberry between her thumb and forefinger.

  "I have an idea," Maela said, grabbing her own handful of strawberries. "What if the only exit is the road? That was how the Wizards left, and that was the direction where the guard said we would face death. If every other path leads back to the cabin, that must be the way out."

  Darla nodded. "Yes. That makes sense."

  "So here is what I was thinking. I'll grab the knife and head down the road, seeing what kind of guard we will be facing. We could then create a plan based on what I find."

  "But what if it's an archer that just shoots you when you pass a certain point?"

  "I'll be careful."

  Darla dropped her hands to the table and stared at Maela. "No," she finally replied.

  "What do you mean no?" Maela felt anger rising inside her. Darla was her partner, her friend, and perhaps even more, but she was not her mother or guildmaster.

  "It is too dangerous, and there is no need."

  "What do you mean there is no need? We are prisoners. We need to find a way to escape."

  With a look that seemed almost a pout, Darla replied, "Is this really a prison? We have food and shelter. It is beautiful." She paused, and then added, "We have each other."

  Maela once again felt frustrated. What happened to the woman who proudly described drinking rat's blood? She made an effort to understand Darla's point-of-view. She had lived her whole life in the mines. She was a female guard, which was itself a prison sentence of a sort. Was it surprising that the open air of the forest and the lack of rigid discipline would seem to her more like freedom?

  Maela reached her hand across the table, and Darla grabbed for it with what appeared to be excitement, or perhaps desperation. "Okay. We don't need to make any decisions right now." Darla squeezed her hand.

  Things progressed over the next few days, and Maela found herself enjoying her and Darla's time together. It was all new to her. She had spent her life pretending to be people of other guilds to gather information, skulking about to eavesdrop on guild leaders, fleeing through sewers, and saving her guildmates from prison or worse.

  The entire idea of relaxing in a single location was so new to her that just sitting in front of the fireplace and watching the flames move in chaotic directions was enthralling. Using a knife to cut vegetables was a delight. Knowing that there was no one to save, no one to help, and no one who would command her to do some mission was more welcome than she cared to admit.

  Her biggest concern ended up becoming her favorite thing--having no one to share her time and location with but Darla. Maela feared it would be oppressive. She feared she would get bored. She had no real friends in Ness. She was constantly on the move, and her friends were simply people who accompanied her for one mission or another. And now she was tethered to a cabin and one person.

  But all her fears were baseless. She loved every moment with Darla. They were both from very different backgrounds, but they were both no strangers to loneliness and harsh conditions. The thing was that their escape from their shared loneliness accentuated their interest in each other's differences.

  Darla talked about the mine. Growing up in darkness seemed normal, and her points-of-reference--caverns, stone, light, and minerals--were all delightful as she taught them to Maela. Doing the same, Maela discussed Ness, days of moon and sun, the River, the Wall, and so many other things that didn't even exist for Darla in the mines.

  After the fourth day, their discussion turned more personal, and the closeness they shared as they stumbled through the mountain, desperately relying on each other in an attempt to survive, turned out to be real.

  Maela had always considered that she favored men, but as she delighted in Darla dancing around in the filtered sunlight in nothing but a thin tunic, she realized that it was the opposite that was the case: She didn't prefer men; Men preferred her. She didn't think much of men that way at all, and their attention created her default expectation.

  She thought she liked men, but that she just wasn't a romantic. Yet here she was bringing a flower from deep in the forest to Darla, for no other reason that seeing the smile that it would generate.

  "Thank you!" Darla threw her arms around Maela and kissed her on the cheek. Darla appeared nervous to do more, and Maela knew it was due to her own coldness and uncertainty.

  "It reminded me of you. Delicate and beautiful, and yet thriving with a resilience and strength in the lonely dark of the forest." Maela lowered her face but looked back up when Darla didn't say anything.

  As their eyes met, the reality of their freedom from male attention and mockery, stifling guild rules, and the oppressiveness of duty was never more real. Darla put her arms around Maela again, and this time she kissed more than Maela's cheek.

  They shoved their beds together in the back room, and Maela pushed aside thoughts of escape. She had more important things to focus on.

  A week later, she and Darla lay on the grass in front of the cabin. The top of Darla's head was tucked against Maela's neck and shoulder. It was in the middle of their clearing, and was the best spot to view the stars. Darla loved watching the stars, as she had lived her whole life without them.

  "I love that the most." Darla pointed to a cluster of stars that didn't have an discernible shape to Maela. "It reminds me of two swords clashing."

  "Tell me again of your final test." Maela could tell Darla was smiling, even if she couldn't see it.

  "What's there to tell? I defeated the Captain of the guard."

  "The first to do that in years."

  "Yes, but it doesn't mean anything."

  Maela knew Darla didn't mean that, even if she didn't admit it. "Yet you see swords in the stars."

  There was a shrug and then Darla said, "I wish I could see more. This clearing is nice, but I wonder what is beyond the trees."

  "There is a book in the Thieves library about the stars. They were used to navigate with years ago."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. Perhaps they even used the stars to travel on this side of the mountain."

  Laughing, Darla replied, "That's not what I was referring to. I was asking about the library in the Thieves Tower. I've never seen a book before, but I've heard of them."

  "There's so much you haven't seen."

  Darla didn't reply and things were quiet. Maela broke the silence, wh
ich wasn't quite awkward but was getting there. "I keep looking for my favorite group of stars. There are three of them in a row, and they are bright. I used to see them all the time when I was on night missions, and they were the one constant no matter where I was."

  "I haven't seen them."

  "I think they are lost behind the trees."

  "I wish I could have seen them. They brought you happiness in hard times."

  And with that comment, Maela realized where their future lay--together but wandering the world. In Ness they would not lose their freedom of being together. They would gain the freedom of being together in Ness. There was still much for them to experience. Together.

  The next day Maela grabbed the hunting knife and wore a light outfit that would allow her to walk quietly. As Darla worked on creating a garden, Maela started down the lane.

  She knew without any doubt that this was the only escape, the magic of the clearing making any other direction a lost cause. With that in mind, there would undoubtedly be the guard that she had expected within the forest. There was the possibility that the lane itself would be guarded by some magical trap, so Maela did her best to be as observant as possible.

  The goal of this first trip was to silently approach the guard or guards and assess their strengths and weaknesses. She would stage an attack, perhaps with Darla's help, in the future. Maela stayed in the tree line just beyond the road. She went very slow, darting with absolute silence from tree to tree.

  Every few trees she would spend time scanning the forest. Maela knew that it was likely the guard would stay in the road, but she couldn't assume that there wouldn't be some kind of defense or guardian hidden among the trees.

  She had been traveling for thirty minutes, and even as slowly and quietly as she had been moving, she had put a good distance behind her. The trail was featureless, a wide path of grass and dirt that wound through the trees.