Lucius became aware that Magnus was eyeing him closely, and he shifted under this gaze uncomfortably, becoming acutely aware that the hard wooden chair he had taken was beginning to numb his backside.
“I like you,” Magnus said at last. “I have been taken in by nobles who promise the earth in the past, and the less said about my romantic attachments to women, the better. But I know thieves, Lucius. I have grown able to spot, very quickly, those who were born to the life, and those who merely pretend. And I see in you the makings of a great thief.”
The praise was completely unexpected. “Well... thank you.”
“No need for thanks, Lucius, you got here on your own strengths. All learned from your time in the Anclas Territories, were they?”
“Mostly,” Lucius said, evasively, but Magnus seemed to either not notice or not care.
“Caradoc recognises your talent too, though he finds it shameful to admit you saved his life.”
“Any one of us would have done the same.”
“Maybe. You must remember that, despite us all belonging to the Night Hands, some here really are rogues of the highest order. But you will learn that truth soon enough,” Magnus said, then suddenly changed the subject. “What did you make of Loredo and his woman during our summit?”
Lucius paused, marshalling his thoughts. “Very capable and very deadly. That woman, Jewel, in particular gave me the shivers.”
“A natural killer. Of all the assassins in Turnitia, she probably commands the highest fees. She is very good at what she does.”
“But I don’t think they can be trusted.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You think, perhaps, I was wrong to call the summit and make the deal?”
“Hardly matters what I think, guildmaster,” Lucius said, hoping his use of Magnus’ title was respectful enough.
“Of course what you think matters. You are one of the Hands, you have a stake in what we do here, that decision affected you directly,” Magnus said, then he gave Lucius a sly look. “Of course, your opinion may not always count for much, but I would still hear it.”
“The summit was important, as it forced both sides to put their cards on the table. And, if nothing else, it has created at least a couple of days of peace.”
“True,” Magnus nodded. “Anything else?”
When Lucius frowned in thought, Magnus prompted him.
“Why, for example, would I risk inviting them here, into our own guildhouse?”
“A show of trust, as you said,” Lucius began, then a flash of inspiration took him. “And to get both Loredo and his woman close – you wanted to watch them, see how they would take the proposals.”
“Very good, Lucius,” Magnus said. “Loredo I knew before, but the years can change a man. Jewel, I know only by reputation, and most of the tales told of her are likely exaggerated. Or maybe not. I like to know who I am dealing with. And you are right – they cannot be trusted.”
“So, what have we gained?”
“Well, time, as you said. Even a moment of peace is infinitely preferable to the immediate onset of war. There are those, of course, who think a good, bloody war would straighten the city out and set things right, but we cannot guarantee we would be on the winning side, can we? At least, not yet.”
Thinking Magnus’ words over, Lucius looked up at the guildmaster.
“While I appreciate the trust, why are you telling me this?” he asked.
Magnus sat up straight, abandoning his leisurely posture to clasp his hands together as he leaned over the desk.
“Several reasons,” he began. “I meant what I said about liking you. It’s an instinct. You are going to do well for us here, Lucius, if you work hard and do not cheat us.”
“I wouldn’t–” Lucius began, but Magnus waved his objection away.
“It occurs to every thief at some time. A few coins here, a few valuables there, before anything reaches our fences. Just... just be warned that we have our own methods for discovering and tracking down those who embezzle from us. However, the one point of real contention between the Hands and the Guild is the docks and outlying merchant quarter. The Five Markets are what attract citizen and visitor both, but the money all flows from the ships and wagons of the merchants. Not having both the docks and the merchant quarter in the possession of either guild makes lasting peace between us impossible.”
“You think they will try moving against us so soon?” Lucius asked, thinking of his own operation about to go into action.
“Probably not,” Magnus said. “It is probably just me worrying too much about every little thing the Hands get up to. But promise me this, Lucius. If you get the merest hint that the Guild are getting ready to hit us, the slightest suspicion that everything is not quite right when you make your raid, pull out. Don’t risk the lives of the men who volunteer to go with you. They may escape only with their skins that evening rather than the goods they hoped for, but that is good enough if danger threatens. Do you understand?”
“Of course.”
“I’m serious, Lucius. Whether it is this week, next month or next year, the Guild will be coming for us. I don’t want any of us caught in the firing line when they do.”
CHAPTER TEN
LUCIUS CAST A wry glance up at Kerberos as the blue-grey giant leered down upon the docks. He had heard the sphere called Thief’s Friend, on account of the twilight it cast during the late hours, creating shadows throughout the city in which a rogue could readily hide. Only rarely did it dip completely below the horizon and so shroud the world in the pitch black of night. He ruefully thought he might have liked such a night, with darkness completely clothing both himself and his allies as they surrounded their target.
The Allantian Voyager was berthed just a few dozen yards ahead of him, its three masts rising into the faintly star-speckled sky. With its hull heavily reinforced to withstand the battering it would face on its travels across the churning sea, it was a squat and unlovely vessel, but one eminently suited to the journeys it would face. Typical of Allantian designs, the Voyager was the largest ship in the harbour, with others from Vosburg and the Sarcre Islands much smaller by comparison, designed to ride the huge waves they would face rather than plough a course through the maelstrom. Such ships would inevitably be smashed to splinters within a year or two, having encountered one natural disaster too many. It was said the best Allantian ships could last for more than a century of continuous travel.
A small flash of light made Lucius look upwards to the cliffs rising behind him. He nodded to himself, knowing the wagon party was now ready. Having commandeered a massive crane, they now awaited the haul of silk to be loaded onto its platform, which they would then raise and transfer onto the wagon they had acquired. From there, the silk would be taken to one of the Hands’ affiliated fences to be sold; job done.
The light flashed again as one of the thieves high above lifted his cloak slightly to reveal the hooded lantern he held close to his body, then dropped it, his signal complete. The first part of their task was done. Now they had to wait for the other thieves to board the Voyager and make off with its goods before their turn in the heavy lifting began.
In all, Lucius had managed to raise a score of thieves to join him in his expedition, most signing on at the last minute. Quickly briefing them on the plan, and noticing some of the older thieves suppressing smiles as they watched him draw out positions on the many different maps he had prepared, Lucius had led them to the docks and delegated positions. He was, at least, gratified to see Ambrose with them, a familiar face on his first planned mission.
A few members of the party were simply serving as lookouts, though no serious trouble from the Vos guard was expected. The few men of the wagon party were now ready, but the bulk of his strength was in the harbour itself, stalking the Voyager, watching for overly curious crew, and getting ready to engage in the toil of heaving bundles of silk from ship to crane.
Crouched behind a large coil of rope, Lucius raised his hand,
the signal that started the next part of the process; the approach to the Voyager itself.
As the sign was passed from thief to thief, each within eyesight of another in the gloom, Lucius saw dark shapes detach themselves from the shadows, keeping low and taking advantage of any available cover. A single sentry on the deck of the Voyager had already been sighted, and the role of silencing him passed to a veteran of such missions.
Lucius broke cover too, a slight manipulation of arcane energies allowing him to bring some of the darkness of his hiding place with him; just enough to give him a little extra protection from prying eyes, and not too much that would alert his fellow thieves to anything unusual.
The ship grew closer and, as he approached, Lucius only just began to realise just how large it really was. There were entire warehouses in Turnitia that were not as long or broad, and he wondered whether they would easily find the silk they were seeking to rob from its hold.
He saw some thieves gaining access to the ship’s deck by the ropes that moored it tightly to the dock, clambering hand-over-hand as they swarmed up. Though they had plenty of skill in the use of ropes, he could see even the best of them were having some trouble, as the ship constantly lurched up and down, the ropes binding it creaking with the strain of holding it in place against the constant, surging waves that flooded past the barriers and into the harbour.
Joining a small group of thieves near the bottom of a ramp that led straight up onto the Voyager’s deck, he crouched and waited with them, ready to charge forwards at the call of the next signal. He did not have to wait long as a low thump and groan issued from the deck, quickly followed by a quiet whistle; the ship’s sentry had been dealt with.
Leading the rush, Lucius sprinted up the ramp, still keeping his body low as the thieves behind him followed suit. His first time on the deck of a ship, Lucius quickly looked around to get his bearings. Seeing the wheelhouse, three masts and prow allowed him to picture the deck plans of the ship in his mind, but the reality was entirely more confusing. It seemed as if nowhere was free of stores, debris and rope; lots and lots of rope. Only having the vaguest idea of why a ship needed so much rigging, or why it so often needed replacing, he trotted over to the space between the centre mast and the one ahead of it, knowing the hatch to the forward hold must lie there.
Several thieves, including Ambrose, were quicker and got there ahead of him, already lifting the massive double hatch to reveal a black maw that descended into the bowels of the ship.
“This is it,” one whispered. “I’m going down, there’ll be a second hatch down there. Someone look about, there’ll be a winch round here somewhere.”
Another thief was already rigging a winch and pulley to a metal pole jutting from the main mast, lashing it to a square platform, not unlike those used by the cranes on the cliff. Lucius could see each thief attending to his assigned role, and was pleased with how quickly and efficiently they worked together. He was less happy with the noise being generated, and though they had been near silent as they boarded the Voyager, the harder work of preparing to lift bales of silk out of the hold inevitably stole their stealth. Casting an anxious eye around the quieter areas of the deck towards the stern, Lucius could not help but think they were being watched.
Clapping Ambrose on the shoulder to let him know he should continue as planned, Lucius padded softly away as the other thieves started descending into the darkness below the deck. Drawing his sword from his back, he kept his body low and stayed to the shadows as he crept away.
Passing the thick masts, Lucius picked his way stealthily along the deck, nodding briefly to another thief who was coming from the opposite direction.
“All clear,” the thief whispered, and Lucius gestured for him to proceed helping with the unloading of silk. With the haul the dockmaster had promised lay on board, they would need all the hands they could muster to make their theft before any of the remaining crew on board were wise to their presence. However, Lucius could not shake the ominous feeling he had and, cursing Magnus for putting doubts into his head in the first place, he approached the poop deck.
Raised above the level of the deck, the poop was accessible by two ladders, one on either side of the ship, and flanking a simple wooden door that Lucius knew gave access to the lower decks and the captain’s own quarters. Mounting the first two rungs of a ladder, he poked his head over the lip of the poop, and scanned the area.
The wheel lay before him, lashed tightly as part of the precautions to keep the Voyager steady while berthed in the dangerous harbour. Two large siege crossbows were mounted to either side behind large purpose-built shields, perhaps intended to keep the ship safe from the pirates and corsairs Lucius had heard roamed the straits between the peninsula and the Sarcre Islands. He could also just make out a slumped form behind one of the crossbows, the bound and gagged sentry, now oblivious to the presence of the intruders.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Lucius hopped back down to the main deck and crept to the door. He had not wanted to risk exploring the rest of the ship but, while his men were busy with their haul, he reasoned that it was better to be safe than very, very sorry. He tried the handle, resolving himself to simply blocking the exit with a barrel or something similar if it were locked, in order to stop any attempt by the crew to storm the main deck, and was faintly surprised to find the door swung easily open. The interior was pitch black and he cast a quick look over his shoulder, suddenly apprehensive. He could see the shadowy shapes of thieves at work at the far end of the ship in the half-light of Kerberos and, seeing nothing more amiss, steeled himself to take a look inside.
Stretching a hand outwards, Lucius summoned a small flame, its purple light flickering crazily. Inside, a small corridor extended ahead. At its end was a stout door lined with metal bands – leading to the captain’s quarters, Lucius presumed. To his left was another closed door and to his right, a small set of stairs descended into darkness.
Creeping forward as quietly as he could, Lucius ducked his head down the stairs briefly. He had no desire to pace his way through sleeping crew. Just wanting to ensure no one was awake, he peered into the gloom and was greeted with a rank smell that made him retch until he buried his face into his cloak. He had never smelled anything like it; the stench of a body left in the sun too long, mixed with the pungent aroma of salt and dead fish. It was not pleasant like the scent of a fresh catch being unloaded dockside from a fisherman’s boat, but something altogether more sickening. Shaking his head at the hygiene of Allantian sailors, Lucius turned away to approach the door to the captain’s quarters.
There was no sound of movement behind the door and for that, he was grateful. Not quite knowing what to do, Lucius eventually settled on snuffing out his flame to call upon a reflection of the same thread of power. Reaching towards the lock, he felt a chill sweep through him as the magic surged in his body. His hand becoming the focus, he concentrated until a stream of cold air blasted forward to envelop the lock’s mechanism, softly whistling as ice began to form.
Hoping that would be sufficient to at least delay the captain should he awake to the noise of the thieves working at the far end of the ship, Lucius started to retrace his steps.
He froze as he heard a strangled cry ahead. Though the door to the deck was open before him, he could not see any of the other thieves, and he at first thought they were either hidden by the masts or else working in the hold. That did not make any sense though, for the unloading of silk should have begun by now. A heavy thump seemed to resonate through the ship, as if something very large had been dropped, and this was followed by a shout of warning.
Startled now, and worried by what might have stirred the thieves into breaking their silence, Lucius started to run to the main deck, but was halted by the sound of movement from the stairs leading to the lower deck. The crew of the ship would have been awoken by the thieves on board, and Lucius crouched, sword drawn, ready to skewer whoever came up the stairs first.
Seeing a s
hadow move, the stench he had smelled before suddenly strengthened and he realised someone was approaching. He felt the comfort of the threads of magic spin in his mind’s eye, ready to be unleashed if his sword alone proved insufficient. Stepping forward, blade ready, Lucius prepared to thrust his weapon into the chest of whoever emerged and then sprint out to see what danger the rest of his team faced.
A loud cry of fear and alarm rang out, resounding in the confined space. Dimly, Lucius realised it was he that had screamed. The figure before him climbed up the stairs inexorably, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched the horror approach.
Two shiny, black eyes – each the size of his fist – looked back at him unblinking. They were mounted in a bulbous, scaly head, its wide maw filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was naked, but its skin was completely cloaked in the same foul green scales that covered its head. Spines rose from the top of its skull and continued down its back, and they flattened menacingly as it spoke a language he did not recognise, a base slurping and lapping sound that no human could imitate.
Slime covered its hideous body but it was not until it raised a hand, its nails stretching out into wicked inch-long webbed claws, that Lucius was finally galvanised into action, his instinct for survival overriding his conscious mind.
Screaming again, he flailed out with his sword, but it was swatted away with a metallic chink by one of the claws. Reeling backwards from the blow, he knew the creature was immensely strong, and that he was about to die, torn apart by those talons, and then savaged and consumed by those fangs.
Reaching a hand up in defence, his fear and anger mingled, and he was distantly aware of two threads of power smashing together to form one continuous bolt of energy that whipped through his body violently. Crying out in pain now, Lucius sought to unleash the magic building up inside before it burned him to a cinder and he focussed it forward, straight into the creature.
The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) Page 14
