The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)

by Matthew Sprange

  The bundles were ripped apart, and cries of delight rang across the square, as the poorest citizens of the city discovered that the benevolent Empire of Vos had gifted them not just bread, but fruit, new clothes, a skin of wine, and even a small pouch of silver. These cries fuelled more applause as the richer citizens saw their taxes at work, bathing in their own charity.

  Sebastian knew better. Those were his people that had been herded into the square, members of the beggars’ guild, all of them.

  Someone in the Vos-led government had been very, very clever. He had to give them that. Any other official might have just tried to bribe the beggars with bread, believing them to be poor and hungry. That had been tried before and, predictably, it had not worked. Beggars had still lined the streets after weeks of donations.

  What had not been understood before was that the beggars of Turnitia were not necessarily poor and starving – certainly not if they had been part of the beggars’ guild for any length of time. The guild turned destitution into a profession, and Sebastian’s people were very good at what they did. Beggars feigned diseases and injury, turning their deceptive plight into pity from those who were supposedly better off. It was ironic that many of the beggars that received handouts were actually wealthier than many of the labourers and craftsmen who gave freely. But then again, that was the whole point of begging.

  Under Sebastian, the beggars’ guild had developed so that every beggar in the city belonged, and all benefited from its membership. Plots were allotted and rotated so that each beggar had a good opportunity for charity and no one region of the city was buried under hordes of begging cripples.

  More than that, Sebastian had turned the natural tendency of so-called decent people to ignore beggars into a virtue. The beggars’ guild had become the eyes and ears of the city, and their recent alliance with the thieves’ guild had borne fruit for both.

  Someone within the Vos military had finally caught on, however. For the entire morning, Sebastian had watched helplessly as his people were rounded up by Vos soldiers and piled into wagons. He had first thought they were being taken to the Citadel or perhaps even deported from the city, as part of some Vos scheme to clean up the streets. Their true aim was far more insidious, and Sebastian pounded the wall with an angry fist as he sought, without hope, for a response that would save his guild.

  The wagons of beggars had been driven to the Square of True Believers. More soldiers ensured no one was able to leave, much to the chagrin of those who felt they had been picked up like sacks of wheat and then dumped in the square. However, when more wagons arrived, the beggars stopped complaining.

  By providing more than just food and drink, the Vos government was buying their loyalty. Better clothes immediately made them look like anything but beggars. Cold, hard silver meant there was little to be gained by begging anyway. After all, why squat in the gutter with hand outstretched to passers-by if Vos was going to give you money for doing nothing? True, some of the more successful beggars would not be taken in, being too wealthy to be turned so easily. However, they were few in number and were certainly not the heart and soul of the guild.

  A young girl of no more than fifteen summers came from the depths of the alley to stand next to Sebastian. Wearing an elegant gown, the girl looked more like the daughter of a rich aristocrat than the beggar she was. She had been forced to change from her normal, grubby attire in order to avoid being picked up by the guards with the rest of the beggars. Linking an arm through Sebastian’s, she too watched what was happening to the beggars.

  “Grennar,” Sebastian acknowledged.

  “What are we going to do?”

  He looked down at the ground. “Go to the thieves. Tell them that, from today, my guild no longer exists.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE ELEGANT WOOD-PANELLED walls of the guildhouse’s council chamber used to give Lucius a measure of confidence in his chosen career. With the wisest and most experienced thieves seated around the long table that dominated the room, the atmosphere was one of business and considered opportunity, not petty larceny and common crime. Theirs was a true profession, taken every bit as seriously as that of the merchants of the city who planned the continuance of their wealth for years into the future.

  The comfort was not there today, and everyone fidgeted around the table as they waited for the guildmistress. The Council had shrunk in size since the thieves’ war, and the empty chairs around the long table now felt like an ominous sign.

  Opposite Lucius sat Ambrose and Nate. The former had been Lucius’ own mentor when he first joined the guild, and Lucius had come to trust the veteran thief completely. Nate, on the other hand, could have been considered a rival. Nate was the youngest thief on the guild’s Council and was known to be ambitious, yet Lucius had leapfrogged right over him to adopt a very senior position among the thieves. Some said Nate was merely biding his time to avenge himself, but Lucius had found him to be more or less dependable, though the young man could argue with the best of them during the meetings.

  There was an empty seat next to Lucius, as his place was at Elaine’s left hand. On her right was Wendric who, officially, at least, was her lieutenant and second in command of the guild. Lucius’ presence made that position a little less clear, and many thieves in the lower ranks assumed that he had usurped Wendric as well.

  What they did not know was that the void left by the death of the previous guildmaster had been resolved neatly between Lucius and Elaine, one night while on a mission to finish the thieves’ war. Lucius did not want the responsibility of ownership of the guild, but he did want a position on the Council. Elaine, on the other hand, very much wanted to become leader of the guild. By allowing Wendric to retain his position as lieutenant, both he and Elaine had worked to dissipate the suspicions that had grown over Lucius’ magical talents. Most thieves had been set against allowing wizards into the guild, believing them portents of bad luck, but Elaine and Wendric, helped by Lucius’ own actions, had convinced most that having a Shadowmage could only benefit them all.

  Lucius’ attention was brought back to the meeting by Nate hammering his fist on the table as he stood, leaning forwards.

  “Launch a rescue bid or retreat, those are the only choices,” he said, his ire aimed squarely at Wendric. “I won’t leave our people in the Citadel to rot, but if that is the choice of this Council, then we have no option but to shut down our operations. We no longer have the manpower to operate effectively.”

  Ambrose laid a hand on Nate’s arm, indicating that the younger man should sit down.

  “In principle, I agree with you, Nate – we all do,” said Ambrose. “In practice, we have to be smart.”

  “We are in danger of losing control of all operations,” Wendric pointed out.

  “True,” said Ambrose. “But we are not losing them to a rival guild. The merchants and wealthy citizens will still be out there in the days and weeks to come. My point is we need not act hastily.”

  “Agreed,” Lucius said.

  “I suspect, if we wait just a little longer, we may have unexpected allies,” Ambrose said, and the others looked quizzically at him. “Taxes have been increased fourfold. People are required – required – to attend services of the Final Faith in that damned Cathedral of theirs. This is a dictatorship in the making and, if I know the people of Turnitia, they won’t stand for it. One day, very soon I’d wager, they’ll wake up to realise what cold steel fist they have around their throats.”

  “That is a lovely idea, Ambrose,” said Wendric. “But while the people of this city may grumble about Vos’ new regime, they will do little about it.”

  “That is true,” Lucius said. “Vos has been smart, giving people just what they thought they wanted. The streets have been swept clean of crime, trade is increasing and, on the face of it, life is getting better. Maybe they will awake to see what is really happening but by then, it will be too late.”

  “For that matter, there may not be any real people of
Turnitia left,” said Nate.

  “What do you mean?” Lucius asked.

  Nate shrugged. “Have you seen who is arriving in the city, who is responsible for the influx of trade? They are all coming from Vos. And they are buying property here too – they are set to stay. It won’t be long before these visitors from Vos outnumber the natives. Then we will be a true Vos city.”

  That thought floated over the table for a few minutes before anyone else spoke.

  “Well,” Wendric said finally, “that is something to worry about in the future. Our prime concern right now is that our work as a guild is being severely restricted. Even Elaine’s assassins are having a hard time of things, as Vos guardsmen have been assigned to anyone who might remotely be a target for their knives.”

  The door to the chamber flew open with a bang, Elaine sweeping through it at speed. Behind her trotted a familiar face at their meetings, the beggar girl known as Grennar.

  “Gentlemen, forgive my late entrance, but I have just heard something disturbing, and we have much to do,” Elaine said as she hurried around the table to take her place. Grennar sat next to Ambrose.

  Lucius cast a glance at Elaine, and he immediately saw a haunted look behind her eyes. He could only imagine the pressures she was under as she tried to manage a guild that was falling apart. As she took a deep breath to compose herself, Lucius found he wanted nothing more than to reach under the table and take her hand, but he knew better than to try. They had agreed from the outset of their relationship that any display of affection or over-familiarity between them would only shake confidence in the guild’s leadership.

  He would hold her close that night but, for now, Elaine would have to stand alone.

  Elaine gestured to the young girl opposite her. “Grennar, go ahead.”

  The beggar girl had been presented to the thieves as a go-between, a liaison, linking thief and beggar in the common causes they shared. At first, many thieves presumed she was a calculated insult aimed at them from beggars who believed themselves superior as an organisation, but Lucius saw she had impressed even the most senior of thieves very quickly.

  With a freckled face and the slightest of frames, she had the uncanny knack of getting people to listen when she wanted to talk. She also seemed to know exactly what she was talking about on any given subject that cropped up during the Council meetings she attended, which was not always the most obvious trait of some of the thieves present.

  “Sebastian sent me,” Grennar said. “You heard the promises the Preacher Divine made. Well, he is carrying them out – right now.”

  “Giving alms to your people, so they need not beg,” said Lucius.

  To his surprise, Grennar gave an appreciative smile. “It was very neatly done.”

  This frank analysis surprised Lucius, and he wondered if she was simply relating what her own guildmaster had told her, or whether she had formed the opinion herself. If the latter, Lucius could see why Sebastian kept such a quick mind close to him, however young the head around it.

  “Anyway, it means our guild has effectively been shut down,” Grennar said simply.

  “You have no loyal members to rely on?” Elaine asked. She was mastering her shock at this turn of events, but Lucius could still hear tones of it in her voice, and he wondered if the other thieves noted it too. Wendric, probably, as he had known her the longest.

  “Oh, we have people who have pledged themselves to the guild and Sebastian both,” Grennar said. “But not enough. Not enough to function as a guild, and certainly not enough to gather information across the city. The rest... well, they look after themselves before all else. I imagine it is much the same in your guild.”

  Elaine looked sharply at the young girl, then shrugged. “That is true enough.” She looked at each of the men around the table in turn before making her pronouncement. “They will be coming for us next. And quickly.”

  Round the table, the men shuffled uncomfortably.

  “We have to clear the guildhouse,” Wendric said.

  “We have to do more than that,” Elaine said. “As a guild we are almost paralysed in our ability to conduct business. With the beggars taken out of play, we are also blind. We are in a very precarious position.”

  “What is your plan?” Ambrose asked.

  Elaine was clearly reluctant to give her next orders, but she forged ahead.

  “Clear the guildhouse. Move the vault too, and get our people to take as much as they can carry from the libraries, laboratory and armoury. Everyone splits into individual groups, each headed by a single senior thief who chooses their own safe location and way of continuing business. No senior thief is to know where any other senior thief and their group operates from.”

  “You are talking about breaking the guild!” Ambrose protested. Nate was uncharacteristically silent, but looked as though he was going to be sick.

  “The senior thieves are divided into groups as well, with each senior thief reporting to one of the Council. Again, each Council member will know which senior thieves work for them, but not who works for anyone else. You are all free to conduct yourselves as you see fit. I will stay in touch with the Council members and no one else to preserve everyone’s safety. With luck, we will be able to reform as a guild after these troubles.”

  “You want us to start clearing the guildhouse right now?” Nate asked, finally finding his voice.

  “Nate, understand this. The beggars are finished. The Vos guard could be gathering their forces in the Citadel to march on us right now, and we would not know anything about it.”

  Nate opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

  “Start the evacuation now,” Elaine said. “Arrange for sentries to watch every approach, and get them to sprint back here if they so much as smell a Vos patrol. Pick your senior thieves and arrange contact locations. I’ll stay here to lead the last of us out.”

  “No,” Wendric said, shaking his head. “As guildmistress it is imperative that you survive any attack. The guild really will fall apart if you are captured or killed.”

  “Wendric and I will lead the last of us out,” Lucius said. “All those in favour?”

  “Aye!” said Ambrose and Nate together, as Wendric raised his hand to signal assent.

  “Motion is carried by the Council,” Lucius said, looking at Elaine.

  For a second, he thought she would overrule them, as was her right, then he saw her shoulders sag just a fraction. “As you wish,” she said quietly. “In that case, I’ll safeguard the transition of the vault.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Lucius nodded in agreement. After the thieves themselves, the vault was the most precious resource the guild had, the store of its most valuable possessions. It would also be the first thing to leave the guildhouse, and Lucius felt better knowing Elaine would be following it.

  Elaine looked around the table once again. “Keep the faith, we will prevail. Now, get to work, we have a lot to do, and not much time.”

  With Grennar the men stood and filed out of the council chamber, but Lucius stayed next to Elaine as they departed.

  “Ambrose was right, you know,” she said quietly. “We could end up spreading ourselves so thin that Vos just sweeps us up one at a time. Or maybe we do all survive, but the separate groups grow too used to doing things their own way – then we have twelve guilds instead of one, and another thieves’ war.”

  “That might all be true,” Lucius said. “If we had a weak leader. You’ll hold it together.”

  Elaine was silent for a moment, then said in an even softer voice, “I am not certain I can. Not this time. Not against this enemy.” Giving a short self-deprecating laugh, she ran a hand through her hair. “There is no one else I would have said that to!”

  Casting a glance around, to make sure that no one was spying upon them, Lucius reached across and took her hand.

  “We won’t let you down, I promise. You can rely on us.”

  GLANCING UP AND down the twilight-darkened street, Luc
ius rubbed his hands nervously. Vos would make its move against the thieves any time now, he could feel it in his bones, and yet he was standing in the middle of an open street, ready to be taken in by the first patrol that saw him. Still, he had learned not to ignore Adrianna when she sent one of her arcane summons. He doubted the slow chiming inside his head would cease for days if he refused to heed its call.

  He waited at a small junction in Lantern Street, barely a quarter-mile from the thieves’ guildhouse, the wide roadway lined with small houses and the occasional shop. To his back lay an alley, his location chosen to allow for a quick retreat into its narrow, dark entrance if trouble should arise.

  Within minutes, he saw Adrianna stalking confidently towards him, her tied up hair bouncing cheerfully along behind her. Her face did not match its gaiety.

  “Aidy,” he greeted her. “This is an unusual place for you to want to meet.”

  “It is close to your guildhouse, and I know you have problems there,” she said. “I thought you would resist coming if I tried to drag you halfway across the city.”

  “Hardly,” he muttered, but she pretended not to hear him.

  “I see the beggars have gone.”

  “And with them, our eyes and ears,” he said bitterly.

  “Then you haven’t heard what has been happening up on the hill.”

  Lucius glanced up Lantern Street, the thoroughfare winding its way up Turnitia’s slope. The buildings in that, the far eastern part of the town, were mostly residential, and mostly larger estates with extensive gardens, where the richest of the city lived. It was where de Lille had made his home.

  Adrianna grabbed his arm and led him into the alleyway.