Lawful Good Thief

by T L Ford

  She paid the entrance guard and he called out indifferently, "The Dauphin de Merryweather and escort, for your amusement, Sire!"

  The Guildmaster de Red Cliff was a handsome enough man, except for the obvious, underlying madness that twisted his features into something that appeared not quite human. A small, obviously starved boy was chained at his feet, dirty and without any clothes. She strode to the audience line and bowed deeply, ignoring the catcalls and gleeful laughter from the audience.

  "Let us have a look at what has the tide brought in." Guildmaster de Red Cliff said, sourly, to no one in particular.

  "My Master, the Guildmaster de Merryweather, gives you his greetings and requests, as part of my training and Guild tour, that I offer to give you a demonstration of my skills to be confirmed at the next Gathering."

  Unexpectedly, he sang out like a child taunting. "Look! He's sent a girl! Merryweather's either gone soft or has lost his mind. He might as well have sent this." He kicked the boy at his feet, who yelped and pulled as far away as possible. There was much laughter. "Are you soft, Dauphin de Merryweather?" He put as much scorn as possible into her title.

  Answering yes was clearly the wrong thing to do, as was answering an argumentative no. "Guildmaster, I am acceptable to my Master."

  "Soft. Definitely soft! What do the rest of you think?" he bellowed. The room roared, with shouts about her "softness", most quite lewd.

  The Guildmaster rubbed his chin and said finally, "Bring out that other soft one, Slave." The man standing to the throne's right departed immediately. Was that his Dauphin? Spatially, he'd stood in the correct place.

  She waited, as calmly as possible, while the Guildmaster pulled the boy's chain with his foot. When the boy was close enough, he stroked the boy's hair, like one might a dog. The boy's eyes were as wild with terror as much as the Guildmaster's were insane.

  Five very long minutes later, the 'Slave' brought in a chained man. She could tell at once that the bound man was frightened. "Guildmaster, I'm sorry!" he begged.

  "Do you wish to earn forgiveness, then?" The Guildmaster's contorted smile was not quite right. Angela knew she was looking at a dead man in the chains - no matter how the scene played out.

  "Anything, Guildmaster. Anything at all," he cried gratefully.

  "I want you to test this girl's Assassination skill," the man on the throne sneered contemptuously, "Her Master has offered me a demonstration of her skill."

  Angela could see precisely when the man realized the implication by his shoulders falling. She, herself, knew what would have to be done.

  "You see, I don't think she can kill. She's a soft woman."

  Angela spoke up, sounding as emotionless and cold as possible, "Respectfully, Guildmaster, while I am more than happy to kill this man for you, assassination is not a skill to be tested at the Gathering. I require an additional fee." This was calculated. No assassin worked for free, and if she did, he could twist that into proof that she was weak. She hoped it wasn't going too far. There was no real correct response here. She wished she dared to look at Robbie to see if he thought this was correct.

  The Guildmaster snickered. "An additional fee? I think you are using that as an excuse to get out of doing the task." She knew she'd picked the right tact. His eyes narrowed and he suddenly brightened, thinking he had victory. "Very well, what's your price for killing this obviously dangerously armed man?" More laughter from their audience.

  She wondered if she dared. "Guildmaster, I find myself quite envious of you. That flesh you've chained at your feet. I think my Master would very much like to have him."

  "This?" he kicked the boy and Angela was sorry she'd brought attention to him.

  "Yes."

  "I'm quite fond of him."

  Negotiations. She could negotiate. "My Master needs just such a thing to complete our den's decor. He'd make an excellent footstool." She idly rubbed her fingernails against her shirt and flicked her fingers, indifferently. "However, they are easy enough to come by, I suppose. If you'd rather, I'll accept two gold instead." This was on the high side for an assassination fee, where the target was a non-threat. She bet that he'd rather part with the boy than his treasure, even if she'd asked for two copper. She was right.

  "You can have the boy. Maybe he'll turn your Master into a real Guildmaster. And you into a real thief."

  She nodded. She unsheathed her dagger and strode over to the chained man. The only kindness she could offer him was a quick death. She sliced his throat, ear to ear, feeling his warm blood spray her hand. She wiped her blade, not her hand, on his shirt, and resheathed it, all before the man fell with a thud at her feet. Complete the task, she told herself, trying not to show how ill she felt. She grinned crazily at the madman, eyes wide in what she hoped portrayed gleeful arousal, and sounding as greedy as she could, she asked, "Any more?" She thought briefly about adding 'that you are too weak to kill yourself', but wisely didn't say it. Guild culture required insult for insult, but this man was insane.

  "I'll pay you later. I still have need of this 'flesh'."

  "Perhaps you might send your slave with him tomorrow?"

  "Very well."

  "Guildmaster." she bowed and moved over to the side, her audience complete. She spent the remainder of the night in the game area, playing cards and pretending not to be ready to throw up at any time. She laughed at the sick jokes, drank sour beer, all the while maintaining an image of a casual killer - one that so often had blood on her hands that she failed to notice it drying and flaking away as she placed bets. Robbie and Kent stood watchfully beside her the entire time. She left as soon as she felt it wouldn't be perceived as running away.

  On the way back to the ship, several drunken sailor-thieves, brave in a group, accosted her, calling her a harlot. Robbie knocked them out and picked them clean before they even realized what happened. Angela stood by, idly watching, disdainfully. The forms must be obeyed; she had to pretend such attackers weren't worth her time in case others from the den were watching. Angela, Robbie, and Kent used the rope ladders to go down, speedily dropping as much of the way as possible.

  Back at the ship, she didn't speak to the night watch. As soon as she was inside, out of sight, she bent over and threw up. Brutally leaving the mess for someone else to clean up, she retreated to her cabin and cried for hours. She lay awake shivering long after the tears stopped.

  * * * * *

  The next evening, Angela waited on the deck of the ship and watched the path and rope ladders, hoping the Dauphin de Red Cliff would come so she didn't have to reenter the den. About an hour after sundown, she saw him bringing the boy down one of the wooden walkways. There must be another entrance to the den other than through the main town opening. By some weird grace, the boy wore a scrap of dirty cloth that afforded him a small bit of dignity although he was still chained. The man had no escort and she wondered if he was really the Dauphin. He lifted the boy into a rowboat and climbed in after, rowing out to their ship.

  When they arrived, her father, pre-coached, did not cause a scene when she said, "Excellent! My fee. Take him to the galley and chain him there. I'll be along after a bit." Her father took the boy's chain and led him off. To the man, she said, "Come have a drink. It's the least I can offer for your service." He shrugged and followed.

  It made her skin crawl to have him behind her and she had to keep telling herself that even though he served the Guildmaster de Red Cliff, it did not mean he shared the same pleasures.

  In the drawing room, she took out a fine wine and two glasses from the side cabinet. "So," she asked casually, "Are you the Dauphin?"

  "I am." He took the wine she poured, sniffed it for poison, and sipped it.

  "Your Master appears in good health." She implied that he would be geased for many years yet.

  "He is. He's not happy about losing his toy to you."

  She suspected this was as close as he could get to warning her. It was unlikely that Guildmaster de Red Cliff would allow he
r to leave with his prize. "I am planning to depart very soon, actually." She replied, acknowledging the threat. "I have a few more stops to make on my tour before Siedes. Will you be going?"

  "If my Master goes." He walked around the table and across the room to look out the portal. She'd been waiting for him to get far enough away. She pulled out the scroll.

  He turned when he heard the noise. She was not surprised, just disappointed - any edge would have been useful. "This is a gift from my Master."

  "You do know I could kill you just as easily from here as I could if I were standing next to you?"

  "Yes, you're very fast." She was hoping she'd be just a shade faster. This was a tricky thing and if the scroll failed, she'd have one very upset master assassin displeased with her. Flippantly, she added, "I'd personally prefer you look out the portal a moment while I get myself together."

  He gazed at her incredulously.

  "I didn't think so," She muttered as she unrolled the scroll. She started reading as fast as she could. The words shot off the paper, ripped through her throat, and spun in the air around him. This was a much more powerful spell than any she'd practiced with. The magic gripped the Dauphin and fought with his geas. Lights spiraled blindingly.

  The Dauphin de Red Cliff thought at first he was under attack, and then he realized what it was - a spell of geas-breaking. He was bound by his geas to fight against anything or anyone trying to do this very thing. He wanted to be unbound more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life, but he still navigated around the table toward her, pulling his sword.

  Angela felt her blood burning as the magic poured through her. She ignored his approach and read as fast as she could. His sword pierced her abdomen just as the last word tore through her. He yanked backwards as fast as he could, and she crumpled, more from the pain of magic than from the stomach wound. He, too, fell to his knees in pain from the geas pulling free.

  "Milady!" Breathing heavily, he crawled to her side, rolling her over. The wound did not look mortal although it was certainly bleeding. He slapped his hand over it and pressed. Trying to hold the wound closed, he picked her up and carried her out. He hoped the ship had a doctor. To the first man he saw, he commanded, "Get the ship's doctor! Quickly!" He took her back into the drawing room and gently set her on the table.

  She blinked, reached for her side and encountered his sticky hand instead. She moaned as she looked at her own blood on her hand. She grinned dementedly. "I'm faster than you."

  Footsteps sounded and the door slammed open.

  Matthew ran in. "Angela!" He took in the blooded sword on the floor and Angela on the table. "Get away from her!"

  "S'all right, Matthew. He was just showing me something and sword slipped when the ship tilted unexpectedly," Angela lied. "Please just sew me up. I have more things to discuss with him."

  Her father ran in. "Angela!"

  She repeated the lie. He looked like he wanted to throttle her for a lack of common sense. 'Yet another new parental emotion he wasn't quite prepared for,' she thought in painful amusement.

  Matthew who had been rummaging through his medical bag returned with a small bottle and his sewing kit. "Drink a sip. It'll help with the pain."

  She pushed it away. "Just sew me up. Don't feel any pain." This lie wasn't believed as she whimpered when the Dauphin de Red Cliff removed his hand. Her blood still boiled from the magic.

  Jayden arrived, saw the sword, blood, and the assassin. "Was it poisoned?" he demanded.

  "No. If your man can stitch her, she'll be fine."

  "Get out," Jayden commanded.

  "No," Angela countered. "I have more business with him."

  Jayden vaguely looked like he wanted to finish running the sword through her.

  Matthew shoved Jayden. "All of you get out! Give me some room to work."

  As they left, Angela said to the Dauphin, "Don't leave yet. I have something else for you."

  After they were gone, she reached for the bottle of pain killer, which Matthew quickly handed her, and drank a little. Matthew poured alcohol over the wound, causing Angela to wince and bite the back of her hand to keep from screaming out. He stitched and bandaged it, and poured on a bit more alcohol. "If you don't let it get infected, you'll be fine."

  "Right. Help me up." Matthew lifted her, and she swung her legs over the table side and hopped down, grunting. The pain from the magic was receding and the pain from the wound starting to take over. She took another drink from the bottle and handed it back to him. "Go send in our guest. I have only one more thing to do and we can leave this cursed place."

  While Matthew was getting the Dauphin, Angela retrieved the small vial from her bunk. She turned back to the drawing room to find Dauphin de Red Cliff watching her. He'd arrived silently, as befit a Master thief.

  "Never in my most secret dreams have I dared to think about this. What payment do you want?" he asked. "Anything I can give is yours."

  She handed him the vial. "Class A. I trust you know how to use it?"

  He nodded. "I'd take care of him even without this." He rolled the vial between his fingers and held it up to the light. "Though this'll make it much easier."

  "I'm sure." She downed her remaining wine, hoping it would make her side stop throbbing. "I expect your biggest challenge will be holding onto the title afterward."

  "The Guildmaster expects to overrun your ship this very night. He's preparing the boarding party right now. You should depart."

  "Immediately. Thank you for the warning."

  "Milady." He bowed and left.

  * * * * *

  For a moment, she rested against the table, holding her side. Then she drank the Dauphin's remaining wine also and stumbled through the door. Leaning on the walls, she made her way to the deck. She wobbled over to her father.

  "Set sail if he's off of the ship. We're about to be attacked."

  "What?!" He turned to one of his crew, "Go tell the First Mate and then sound the bells."

  "Aye, Capt'n!"

  Jason Thomas turned toward his little criminal. "Jayden's down in the galley trying to get the chains off that boy. Is he why we are about to be attacked?"

  "Probably. But even if I hadn't taken him, this is still the wrong port to be in tonight. Trust me."

  "I shouldn't have let you talk me into coming here in the first place!"

  "Too late now. Please hurry!"

  The bell summoning all hands sounded. "Haul in the anchor! Make sail!" Jayden shouted. Her father, Jayden, and the rest of the crew swarmed over the deck, busy at their tasks.

  Angela scanned the shoreline and rocky path. The shadows were not moving yet. She realized she'd left her weapons below deck and made her way back down. The combination of alcohol and the drug made her dizzy, but at least the pain in her abdomen was only a distant annoyance. She poisoned her dagger and armed herself. The ship tilted and jerked. The sails had caught wind. She fell into the wall, waited until she had the feel for the floor's movement, and climbed back to the deck.

  The shadows on the shoreline were still just shadows. She stood at the rail and watched until the cliff had disappeared into the distance. Startling her, Kent said from beside her, "I don't think I'll ever feel far enough away from that."

  "Yeah," she whispered. She left for the galley. The boy sat in the corner of the room on the floor, the chain around his neck still dangling. Someone had wrapped him in a blanket. He saw her and his eyes filled with fear.

  "Hey, there," she greeted him gently, smiling warmly. "We've left port. You're safe now. We'll get that chain off you as soon as possible. Does it have a lock?" He flinched back when she bent to inspect it. It was welded on. "Ugh. We'll have to cut it. But don't you worry about it. We'll figure it out."

  His eyes were wide.

  "Did they give you something to eat?"

  He shook his head just a tiny bit, afraid to give the wrong answer.

  "They didn't know. Let me see what we've got." She straightened and went over
to the stock room. She brought back bread and cheese and placed it in his grimy hands. He stared at her, paralyzed. "Go ahead and eat. It's good." She took it back, nibbled a small bite off each, and handed it back. He didn't hesitate. He ate it ravenously.

  "Have you ever been on a ship before?" she asked. He shook his head. "Well, you're in for quite an adventure. Water as far as you can see. Stars more brilliant than you can imagine." Realizing that he'd probably been in that den entirely too long, she added, "Open sky, fresh air, and no one, and I repeat, no one, is going to hurt you. Not ever again. I won't let them." Although she could tell he didn't believe her, there was a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. There was a permanent touch of black soullessness now in hers.

  It took everyone three days to figure out how to get the collar off the boy, who still hadn't spoken a word to anyone. They ended up using a combination of Matthew's surgical saws, the garrotes, and a scroll of metal repair. They only cut him a little, but under the collar all the way around was red and raw. Matthew did his best to bandage him. Robyn took charge of the boy and named him Wade. He didn't seem to mind and ducked behind her whenever something startled him.

  * * * * *

  Kent leaned against the deck rail a short distance from Angela, who sat unmoving up on the bow, holding onto the foremost ratline, with her legs dangling over the side. Ever since the Captain's threats and Red Cliff, he and Robbie never left her alone. Kent sighed and wondered again when she'd come out of this funk. Today was particularly dreadful. A lack of any breeze at all left the ship bobbing and the water mirror-smooth. Most of the crew were either napping or playing cards.

  Kent wished he were back midship where Robyn was teaching Wade how to read letters. What a stroke of luck that he'd found her that night after dinner and had convinced her to apply for the governess position. He never thought he'd ever find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but she was the one. She was a woman of the world and no stranger to life's challenges. She understood his Guild affiliation and his current position. He'd needed coins. He was now a passable guildmember, sometimes down on his luck. Currently up, though. Working directly for Angela hadn't been bad at all, aside from not enough ale and card games, and too much of that Lady Dowell.