“We’re not unreasonable men, Brink,” Lucius heard him say with a quiet, dreadful menace. “You pay on time, every time, and you’ll see we take care of you.”
He patted Brink on the shoulder as he smiled, though his knife never wavered from the man’s neck.
“But if we ever hear you have declared for those tosspots in the Guild, we will pay you another visit,” he continued. “We’ll kill your family, we’ll kill more of your very expensive guards and maybe, just maybe, we’ll kill you too – after we have seen how many times we can wrap your guts around that grand house of yours. Do you understand me, Brink?”
The money lender was beyond words now, such was his raw fear, but he shakily nodded his head.
“That’ll do him?” Lucius asked, anxious that a patrol would turn up at any time.
“That’ll do him,” Caradoc confirmed, as he pulled a scarf from his tunic and began wrapping it around his injured leg. “Well done lad, we’ll have words when we get back to the guildhouse. Now, let’s go before we catch the attention of the guard. Split up and make your own way back, usual drill.”
Lucius hesitated, eyeing Caradoc’s leg. Blood was oozing from what looked like a deep stab wound.
Caradoc waved him on. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ve had worse than this. Now, be off with you!”
Jogging away, Lucius kept the shadows. He cast one last look back at the gates of Brink’s place, watching as the money lender dragged himself, sobbing, back to his home. Lights were beginning to flicker on inside the house, and Lucius could hear sounds of activity as more mercenaries scoured the gardens and searched rooms for other intruders.
For a brief moment, he saw a figure silhouetted in one of the first floor windows, arms crossed as it stared down into the gardens. There was something familiar about the figure that tugged at Lucius’ mind but, after just a few seconds, it turned and left his view.
CHAPTER FIVE
NEWS OF THE evening’s events had already reached the guildhouse by the time Lucius made his way into the common room. As he walked in, a ragged cheer went up from the gathered thieves, and a mug of ale was pressed into his hands. He smiled sheepishly and looked around for the others he had fought alongside. Picking out three, he dared to hope their losses had been much lighter than he had first feared. Each was surrounded by a small gaggle of their comrades, being pounded with questions and asked to recount, yet again, their exploits.
Lucius soon had his own audience, but he elaborated little on what he had seen, unsure of how free he should be with his speech, even here in the guildhouse. When he told them he had seen Hawk fall, and there had been at least one other death, a groan swept over all assembled. He felt the atmosphere of the common room become mixed, elation entwined with mourning for the loss of a respected talent. Mugs and glasses were raised, and he joined in with the toast to fallen comrades. Someone remarked that it was a better death than one might find in the Citadel, a fate all thieves strove to avoid. Ambrose, though, pointed out that no money lender was worth the life of a good thief, and this was greeted with murmurs of agreement.
Louder cheers were raised when Caradoc entered, limping while supporting the weight of another thief. Both smiled at the welcome, collapsed heavily into the two chairs brought to them, then accepted drinks. Caradoc waved a hand at the man he had helped to the guildhouse.
“Sarnol thought the best way out of the house was through the window – seems he forgot we were no longer on the ground floor!”
Sarnol smiled with embarrassment. “Ah, I didn’t forget that,” he said, before his expression suddenly turned serious. “Twisted my ankle when I hit the lawn. It was the only escape I had. I saw Kernne struck down by one of those damned mercs, and knew I was next.”
“Kernne as well?” someone asked sorrowfully.
“It was a tough one,” Caradoc said, scanning the crowed as he counted how many of his men had returned. “Hawk also – he died fighting by my side as we held off a veritable army of the bastards. And Lucius was with us too!”
Caradoc raised his glass to Lucius, who nodded in return. One man was inspecting Caradoc’s wound, and it was apparent that he had lost a great deal of blood. The scarf was soaked through as the man removed it, and more blood flowed as the pressure was released.
“We best get you seen to,” he said.
“Little more than a scratch,” Caradoc insisted, though he shifted his weight as he attempted to stand.
“Yes, well, let others be the judge of that. Let’s get you upstairs, Magnus wants to see you. Come with us, Sarnol, we’ll check you out too.”
Several thieves moved to help the two injured men, bearing their weight as they filed out of the common room towards the back of the building.
As he watched them leave, Lucius found himself manoeuvred into a tall leather chair and was instantly surrounded by those who wanted to hear the story all over again, but from his perspective. Lucius gave them a quick rundown, crediting Hawk for keeping him out of trouble early on, much to their approval. He spoke of the desperate fight when the alarm had been triggered, of how he, Hawk and Caradoc had fought side by side, though he carefully neglected any mention of how his magic had swung the battle. Instead, he described how Hawk had sacrificed his life to save both Caradoc and himself, creating a diversion that allowed them to escape and continue pursuit of the money lender.
He lingered on the description of Caradoc’s warning to the cringing money lender, and this too met with the approval of his audience. There was clearly nothing they liked better than a happy ending. After his tale, there were more questions, more ale, and as a soft haze began to envelop his brain. Lucius’ descriptions of the night grew little by little, until it seemed as though there had been half an army stationed within the house. Not that those listening minded, for it simply made their guild seem all the more daring.
“So, the triumphant heroes return!” The voice that rose above the general hubbub of the common room was clear and confident, needing little raised volume to command attention. All the thieves rose to their feet, causing Lucius to look around in confusion before clumsily scrambling to his own.
A well-dressed man clothed in silk and cotton had entered the room, flanked by two others who strode in his wake. The man was middle-aged and greying, though he possessed an obvious vitality that the years had yet to touch. He smiled and Lucius immediately formed the impression of both confidence and trustworthiness. Of course, having spent time with any number of con artists and tricksters, he had learned to be on his guard when confronted by such people, but this man also had an obvious command of, and respect from, the other thieves present. His face was rounded and nondescript, except for his eyes which seemed to constantly sparkle with amusement.
The two men who flanked him were almost the complete opposite. Dressed in black leather with long knives at their belts, both exuded an aura of menace. Lucius thought, if there were such a thing as natural born killers, these two would be the definition.
It was not until the man was among the thieves and clamping a hand on the shoulder of one who had been on Caradoc’s mission that Lucius heard someone thank him by name and understood who he was. So this was Magnus, the guildmaster of the Night Hands. Despite all the time Lucius had spent in the guildhouse recently, he had yet to meet the man, though he had heard plenty of stories about him. He recalled Ambrose once telling him that Magnus had been a lieutenant in the old Thieves’ Guild. When the guild had broken apart, it had been Magnus who had tried to centralise the scattered thieves into a new organisation, at great risk to his life from the guard and other, less pleasant forces. If half of what Lucius had heard was true, then he thought this would be a very easy man to admire.
After shaking another thief by the hand, Magnus turned towards Lucius, and smiled.
“And this would be our newest recruit then. Lucius, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yes sir,” said Lucius, unsure of how to address the guildmaster.
Magnus waved
the honorific away, though Lucius was acutely aware of the attention of his two bodyguards, who seemed to be itching for him to make one aggressive move.
“Just Magnus, please,” he said. “You’ve done well tonight. Brink represents a significant account for us, and the return of his business is worthy of congratulations. I believe you are staying here now – eat and drink well tonight, you’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, err, Magnus,” Lucius said, as graciously as he could, though ale and discomfort vied to tie his tongue.
“Get some sleep too. Then come upstairs tomorrow, feel free to explore the place. Perhaps we’ll speak further.” One of his bodyguards whispered something into Magnus’ ear that escaped Lucius hearing. Magnus sighed.
“Ah, that’s right. I am afraid I must leave you all now.” He looked back at Lucius with a smile. “Pressure of the job you know, they never let up. Welcome, Lucius, I have a feeling you will do well for us here.”
As Magnus swept out of the room, the others clustered about Lucius, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Through their own celebrations, it took them a while to see that Lucius was thoroughly confused as to what was happening. It was Ambrose who took him to one side to explain.
“You’ve done well, lad,” he said. “I knew you would.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Caradoc must have given a glowing report of you while getting his leg mended. Only senior thieves, those who are full members of the Hands, are permitted beyond the ground floor. You, my friend, are now a true thief!”
Lucius smiled nervously as Ambrose thrust another mug into his hand before calling upon the entire common room to toast him. Raising his mug in return, Lucius thanked the thieves and, ignoring a wag calling for a speech, sank back into his chair, happy to listen to his peers talk business for the rest of the evening.
MORNING CAME TOO soon for Lucius, and he awoke to find himself in the same chair he had collapsed in a few hours before. A few other thieves were also in the common room, lying insensible, though most seemed to have had the sense to retire earlier on. As Lucius sat up, the world swam for an instant, and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands as he waited for the after-effects of the ale to subside.
His mouth feeling dry and pitted, Lucius stayed in that position until he lost all sense of time. No one else stirred in the common room, though he heard someone snoring softly in a far corner. Shakily, he stood, and wandered out to find water, both to drink and to wash. Running into Ambrose as the veteran thief scoured the kitchen for breakfast, he was invited to take Magnus up on the offer of seeing what else the guildhouse had to offer.
He spent the rest of the morning exploring the two higher levels of the building, and it seemed as though his eyes grew wider at each new sight. It was only now, when he could see the guildhouse in its entirety as a functioning, well-oiled machine, that he understood just how sophisticated the Night Hands were as an organisation. And how much work it took to keep the guild running on a day-to day-basis.
Three rooms were dedicated to maps and charts, scattered over tables, pinned onto walls, and rolled up on shelves that reached to the ceiling, ready for inspection when a mission demanded. The patrol routes of the Vos guard were accurately timed and drawn on one map, allowing any thief to see exactly where blind spots would appear and when. Floor plans of many buildings in Turnitia were collected in the stacks, and Lucius watched another thief pore over one as he devised his next robbery. Information was collected on people as well as structures, and he learned that the libraries were considered to be living things constantly added to as the guild learned more and more, for the benefit of all its members. A laboratory was present, allowing thieves to make all manner of concoctions, from smoke and sleeping powders, to deadly poisons that would ensure no enemy of the guild would survive for long. There was even a training room, suitably soundproofed with targets for shooting or knife practice, a ring for blade training and, round the edges of the over-sized chamber, a running course across which could be strewn a variety of different obstacles.
It seemed, too, as though Lucius had not been wholly wrong when he had imagined a guildhouse with links to the sewer system of Turnitia, for that was exactly what this building boasted. Near the underground vaults in which the greatest stolen treasures were kept, as well as the guild’s own vast treasury, were several secret passages that took a winding path down into the sewers. These were built to allow members to enter or leave the guildhouse freely, beyond prying eyes.
Lucius was later drawn back to the armoury, which lay next to the training room. Blades, spears, sections of armour and hundreds upon hundreds of various tools of the trade lay on shelves and in racks.
He saw a host of weapons of varying lethality and, having been told senior thieves were free to pick and choose from the armoury, started to inspect an incredibly well-crafted crossbow. Honed from a lamination of light but strong woods, a series of lenses in a wooden tube was mounted over the groove that took the bolt. Standing at a window, Lucius found he could adjust the lenses to bring far objects into focus. Fine wires within the tube marked exactly where a fired bolt would strike, should the target be within range. Other weapons soon revealed similar ingenuity, such as the sword whose pommel could be separated to draw a dagger from the hilt – useful if the main blade was ever broken.
However the weapons were the least of the treasure in this room and Lucius soon found himself exploring the vast cornucopia of tools, such as pots of swordblack used to dull a blade from reflections, dark silk bodysuits that could make even a clumsy thief silent, and the glass-cutting cups Hawk had used to break into Brink’s house.
“There is just something about the mind of a thief that makes him fascinated by these toys,” said a voice behind him. Lucius turned to see Caradoc leaning against the door frame.
“This was where I came as well, when I was brought into the guild proper,” he continued. “Though there were far less toys back then.”
“I am not sure I would call that a toy,” said Lucius, indicating the crossbow.
Caradoc smiled. “You’ll want to practise with it first. It is not as easy to use as you might think – you have to learn how to use the sights, or your shots will never land anywhere near your target. But I think you are quite wrong about these not being toys. All a good thief really needs is a decent blade, soft boots and his wits, the last being the most vital. It seems as if there is always someone trying to get an advantage, however they can. They come up with an idea, and try to build it. Some work. Some need constant revision, with many minds applying themselves to the problem over time. Which, really, is what this place is all about.”
Lucius nodded in understanding. “How long have you been with the Hands?”
“Since the beginning. I knew Magnus from the old guild, and he brought me with him when he created the Hands.”
“You are close friends, then?”
Caradoc paused and frowned. “We trust each other, certainly.”
“You... don’t always agree with what he does?” Lucius asked, wondering where the boundaries were in this conversation. For some reason, he knew he would never have been so direct with Magnus, though the guildmaster seemed far more personable than his lieutenant.
“You don’t always have to agree with your leader.” Caradoc shrugged. “He knows I’m not an automaton. The important thing is that he trusts me to follow his orders, and I trust him to do what is best for the Hands. That is what we have in common – a desire to make the Hands the best guild it can be.”
“So what about the other? The Guild of Coin and Enterprise?”
For a moment, Caradoc looked as though he might spit in disgust, before he remembered where he was. “Well, that is where Magnus and I may differ. He believes we can reach an accord, dividing the city between us without bloodshed. He says it is the most profitable route for both organisations, and I guess I can see the sense of that.”
“They don’t seem very receptive to
that idea,” Lucius said.
“No. Once, maybe up to a year ago, we might have made an agreement. But something has changed within the Guild. They are too aggressive, pushing too hard.” He sighed. “I fear a war is coming. This might not have been the best time for you to join us!”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You proved that last night. Look...” Caradoc seemed self-conscious as he mustered his next words. “I wanted to thank you for stepping in yesterday. Those mercs were tough, and I am not sure I could have taken them all. You did well.”
Lucius blushed and he felt as uncomfortable as Caradoc looked when confronted with this gratitude. “Anybody else would have done the same.”
“Well, you were there and they weren’t. Thanks anyway,” Caradoc said, looking at the floor. “What was it, flash powder you used to distract them?”
Not trusting his voice to carry the lie, Lucius just nodded.
“Good move. Painful stuff too, when shoved in someone’s face. Still, that bastard deserved what he got.”
Not having anything more to add, Lucius simply smiled, and the expression was returned by Caradoc. Neither said anything more, and Lucius pretended to look over the crossbow again, doing anything to break the uncomfortable silence. He looked up again when Caradoc coughed.
“Anyway, there’s a meeting going on. Magnus asked me to fetch you.”
“Me?”
“Just routine business. Magnus thinks that it would be good for you to see how the guild operates.”
“Well, if Magnus has asked... Who else will be there?”
“The most senior thieves of the Hands. These meetings are used to track business, spot opportunities, and generally ensure everything continues to run smoothly. Needless to say, your input won’t be required. Just watch and learn.”
Leading Lucius up to the third and highest level of the guildhouse, Caradoc took him to Magnus’ own meeting hall. Lucius had to bite his tongue to stop from gasping at the sight of the room.
The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) Page 8
