They had only one brush with the guard during the week and, for that, Lucius was grateful. As had become the norm, he had picked the mark, a lady of good money if not good breeding, escorting her young daughter through the dressmakers of the Five Markets. The girl was perhaps in her late teens, perhaps looking for something suitable to wear in a coming society function in which she hoped to impress. Lucius, however, had first noted her mother's bulging purse, looped around a belt behind her back.
After pointing her out to Markel and Treal, then agreeing a plan, Lucius approached them while they turned from one stall to search for another carrying the fabrics they sought.
"Ladies, I am so sorry to trouble you," Lucius began as he stepped in front of them. He wore a now well-practised smile, feigning a little embarrassment, keyed to set a mark at ease. "I arrived in Turnitia yesterday, and am hopelessly lost."
As Lucius started to ask for directions to the Street of Dogs, where he ostensibly hoped to find an old friend, he kept his attention on his peripheral vision. Markel had sidled up to the woman and, with a short blade, cut the strings of the purse, allowing it to easily drop into his hand. Making no eye contact with Lucius, he turned and walked quickly away.
"Mother! That boy!" The girl's voice was high and shrill, and it caused her mother to immediately reach behind her back to find the purse gone. She looked back at Lucius accusingly, and he felt a rise of panic.
"You've been robbed!" he cried with as much conviction as he could muster. "There, that boy, there! Thief!"
Knowing that the daughter had already made Markel, he could only pray the boy would slip the purse to his sister with all speed. The cry of "Thief!" was picked up quickly by the crowd, who themselves were split between wanting any criminal brought to justice and seeing an exciting pursuit through the market.
Lucius saw some of them make a grab for Markel and he winced as he thought of what Ambrose might say about him giving up one of his own team. His heart fell further when he heard the next cry.
"Make way! Guard! Make way!" Six red-clad and very well armoured men were making their way through the crowd, which readily parted before them.
"I have him!" another voice cried, and a struggling Markel was held aloft as the guard closed in. "Here's the thief!"
"I am no thief!" Markel shouted and Lucius thought he saw tears in the boy's eyes, though whether they were genuine or part of his act, he could not say.
The lady, trailed by her daughter, forgot all about Lucius as she stalked imperiously toward the guard, who had formed a circle around Markel. Her demands for her purse were met by flat denials from Markel, and two guardsmen soon had him hoisted into the air by his arms as another searched his tunic thoroughly. Lucius began to think that they might actually turn him upside down and shake him, but no purse was found.
With no apologies, Markel was released, and he disappeared. Lucius looked about, thinking he might see Treal poking her head from amongst the crowd, a sly wink on her face letting him know the switch had been made and that she now had the purse. She was nowhere to be seen and Lucius reminded himself that, despite her age, she was utterly professional when it came to work. The thought gave him some chagrin, as he was still standing there on the scene when he should have disappeared himself when the daughter had first cried.
With no more excitement seeming to be had, the crowd soon went back to its business and Lucius joined them in filtering away. He took a circuitous route around the market, as much out of habit now as wanting to throw off anyone who might have grown overly suspicious at his presence near the theft, and then headed back to his team's rendezvous. They had picked a sub-alley, which was probably an overly grand term. It was a dark and filthy place, full of discarded food, rags and, Lucius suspected, vermin. The key, however, was that it was quiet with no peddlers spilling over from the main trading areas, and no pedestrians taking a short cut from one market to another. Lucius' only worry was that they themselves might get robbed here by some desperate footpad, though he trusted in his own abilities to protect the kids.
Markel was already waiting for him when he arrived, perched on top of a stack of wooden boxes. He smiled as Lucius approached.
"Seen Treal yet?" Lucius asked.
"Nah. She'll be here soon. Good mark that one, I'll bet," Markel said by way of compliment.
Lucius shrugged. "Didn't go so well. Sorry about fingering you like that — I thought the woman had made me, couldn't think what else to do."
The fact he was making a heartfelt apology to a twelve year old boy did not strike Lucius as being odd in the least. After having worked alongside the two kids for the past few days, he had begun to treat them as equally as they had treated him from the start.
Markel shrugged the apology away. "Not the first time I've been collared — hazard of the job. Anyway, you did the right thing, throwing suspicion away from yourself. You have to trust in the other guy getting away — that's his job."
"And you made the switch?"
"Easy. Treal snuck in and took it just before they grabbed me."
Lucius looked at the boy, with a quizzical expression, prompting Markel to ask him what he was thinking.
"I've been wondering," Lucius said. "You earn good money doing this, and have been doing it for a while. What do you spend it on?"
"Oh, you think that kids can't spend money wisely," Markel said, mocking him. "Most of it goes to our parents right now. Doing this beats working at some butchers or tanners, and they don't complain when they see how much we bring in. The rest we mostly give to Caradoc for keeping."
"Caradoc?" Lucius asked.
"He's the lieutenant of the Night Hands. You'll meet him soon, I guess. He takes a special interest in kids who join the Hands, says they are the future. It was him who got Ambrose to start watching the teams in the markets."
"So what does he do with your money?"
"Holds it for us. Says we would just spend it on beer, and he's probably right. When we leave the teams and become proper thieves, we get the money. Spend it on the gear we'll need — lockpicks, a decent blade, silk rope. That stuff's expensive."
"When do you think you'll get accepted?"
Markel pursed his lips in thought. "A year maybe. If we carry on doing well. I'll probably see you in the guildhouse then."
"You think?"
"You won't be with us long. You're too good. They're just testing you, seeing how you work, and whether you can be trusted."
Lucius sighed. "Tell you the truth, wasn't planning to stay around long. Just wanted to earn some money, then leave."
"You mean leave the city?"
Lucius nodded.
"Nah, you'll stay."
"Oh, yes?"
"The money's too good. If you can avoid getting caught, that is, and I don't think you are planning on that any time soon."
Leaning back against the wall, Markel closed his eyes and dozed while he waited, leaving Lucius to his thoughts. Lucius marvelled in the kid's ability to switch off so quickly. He was hard to restrain at times but whenever there was nothing to do, he could fall into a light sleep almost on command.
Stifling a yawn himself, Lucius was surprised to find how weary he could become after a few marks had been worked. He started to chuckle as he considered the idea that thieving for a living could actually be hard work, but was distracted by a flash of movement within the alley beyond. Treal came tearing round the corner, skidding to a halt in front of them.
"Took your time," Markel said without opening an eye.
"Just met up with Ambrose," Treal said breathlessly, and she put a hand on Lucius' shoulder to steady herself as she panted. With her hair cut short and clothes carelessly chosen, she looked much like her brother, though Lucius thought she might become quite attractive in a few years.
"And?" he prompted.
"Just a few silver coins," Treal said, pausing as she savoured the disappointment in Lucius' eyes, before adding, "and a handful of emeralds and sapphires!"
Lucius smiled. Any cut stone that was green or blue was an emerald or sapphire to Treal, for she had yet to develop a thief's keen eye for detail. However, it would be a good haul nonetheless, and he looked forward to their meeting later with Ambrose when they would learn how much the stones had been fenced for.
"We're to move to the northern markets," Treal continued. "Ambrose saw what happened with Markel, and says there is no reason to push our luck. Vern's guys will take over this patch."
"We'd better get going then."
"Yeah — wake my brother up."
They switched roles in the afternoon, and it was Lucius' turn to be handed stolen goods, this time by Treal who would make the grab while her brother distracted the mark. The twins looked to Lucius to pick almost all their marks now, buoyed by their success earlier. They all smelled a good day's takings, and were eager to capitalise on their previous trade.
As the day wore on, the crowds thronging the Five Markets peaked, and then started to recede. There was still enough cover for the team to operate, with the ability to lose oneself among people paramount, and Lucius casually leaned against a plinth missing a statue, the original having been torn down during the city's fall. Treal was close by, while Markel sat by the market's edge a little further off, watching for the signal to move in on a mark.
Treal had been outlying a not entirely serious plan on how they could gain fame by being the first team to treat a guard patrol as a mark, perhaps lifting the sergeant's sword, when Lucius hushed for her attention. Nodding into the crowd, he indicated the unmistakable signs, to the trained eye at least, of a team closing in on a mark. They watched as a young lad purposefully tripped in front of an elderly man. Pretending to be in some distress, the boy persuaded the man to bend down to help him back up, even as one of the boy's friends quickly stepped up behind to lift the man's money.
"I thought Vern and his team were moved to our patch," he said.
"They were," said Treal. "That's not Vern. Damn them!"
Her exclamation caught Lucius by surprise, and he was mystified as Treal caught her brother's attention and directed it to the other pickpockets. Markel frowned angrily when he saw what was going on, and he nodded back to his sister.
"Go and get Ambrose," Treal said to Lucius. "We'll keep watch here and make sure they don't get far. Tell him that the Guild has moved into the markets."
Lucius was thoroughly confused. "Guild? I thought we were the guild?"
"Not this one, we're not. Quickly, get Ambrose," she said, shooing him away.
No wiser, Lucius did as instructed, pushing his way through the crowds to Ring Street, which was the quickest route to the knick-knack stall by the fountain. He began to hurry, not knowing what was going on, but driven by Treal's sense of urgency.
It was with some relief that Lucius saw Ambrose in his usual spot, talking to a young boy who he presumed was another pickpocket from a different team. Lucius paused, unsure of whether he should interrupt another team's business, but his seniority in years got the better of him and he marched up to Ambrose.
The veteran thief looked up in surprise, a querying look on his face.
"A message from Treal," Lucius said. "The Guild is in the markets."
"Damn it!" Ambrose cursed, with a virulence that made Lucius wonder just how bad the situation was. Ambrose turned his attention briefly to the boy standing with them. "Move to the east, like I told you. And not a word of the Guild to anyone, understand? If I hear any rumours floating about, I'll know where they came from."
The boy gave a hurried nod, then fled into the market. Ambrose stood and gestured for Lucius to lead the way.
Their pace was quick, with Ambrose driving Lucius on until his legs began to ache. "I am not entirely sure what is going on," Lucius said as they half walked, half trotted.
"The Guild is moving in on our territory. No damn respect, that's their problem. Today it's just pick-pocketing, but they'll be watching how we react. Any weakness here and they'll be all over our territory."
"I thought we were the only thieves guild in Turnitia," Lucius said, beginning to become a little breathless.
"Would that were so," said Ambrose with a grim tone. "Used to be just one, before Vos descended upon us all. They smashed the old Guild, broke it up. Didn't want any rivals in the city, you see. Took a few years for the thieves to get back together again and when they did, they could not agree on who should lead."
"So two guilds arose?"
"That's right. The Night Hands, under our Magnus, while Loredo started his Guild of Coin and Enterprise. Pompous man, pompous title."
"And they've been fighting ever since?"
"No one's died yet, been nothing more than a few brawls. The city got carved up into territories managed by them or us, but no one was completely happy with what they got. When we get to this Guild team, just follow my lead. Remember, they are just kids, whatever the provocation. I am not going to start a war because of pickpockets!"
They reached the northern market quickly and Markel's nod caught Lucius' attention from the people still milling around the stalls. They were quickly joined by Treal, who related what she had seen to Ambrose.
"Just three of them, seen no other teams. Don't recognise them. Could be they've been brought up from the docks. They're good — well practised. Definitely Guild, they've done this before."
"They still working?"
"Moved to the north edge, following the crowd and keeping away from the Citadel. I'll show you."
They followed the twins, threading through the waning crowd. Treal and Markel then stopped and, with a nod of the latter's head, they looked on to see the three young thieves. Lucius saw they were probably younger than his charges, lounging casually around the front of an open forge. To the casual eye they were just a group of kids lazing between chores, but Lucius saw the flickering glances, quiet muttering and sly movements that told him they were carefully combing passers-by, searching for another easy and rich mark.
Without breaking a step, Ambrose took the lead and marched straight up to them, Lucius in his wake and the twins trailing. At sight of the approaching man, the boys looked as if they were about to run but seeing nowhere to flee, one obviously decided to brazen it out, and his friends took his lead.
"Bugger off, the lot of you!" Ambrose's first words were not subtle in the least.
"Says who, old man?" said one of the boys, taking a step forward to meet the challenge. "We got as much right to be here as you."
"You know damn well this 'ain't your place. Now, clear off, or you'll be in for a beating."
One of the other boys threw a purse at Ambrose. It was empty, having been looted by them earlier, but the sign of defiance made Markel start, and he stepped past Lucius, fists raised. Lucius laid a hand on the back of Markel's neck, and then held it firm when he tried to struggle free.
"Not here," Lucius whispered. "Ambrose's orders."
That was sufficient to restrain Markel, but Lucius could feel his anger.
The lead boy took another step up to Ambrose and, completely unafraid, spat at his feet. "Your time's over, old man. The markets belong to us now."
"Oh, is that so?" said Ambrose and, like a snake, his arm shot forward to grab the boy. The boy struggled until Ambrose cuffed him round the back of the head, and he was not gentle about it. The blow stunned the boy briefly, and he fell to the ground on his backside. When he heard Treal giggling at his misfortune, his eyes blazed with a fury that Lucius had thought only possible in frenzied warriors.
"You'll regret that, old man," he said, as he picked himself up. Despite his conviction, he started to back away, his friends following him. "Loredo will hear of this."
"I'm sure," Ambrose said. "He must take a personal interest in all the kids working for him. Well, you just tell him that the markets are our ground, and we won't stand for any pushing from him. Won't stand for it, you hear?"
The boys left, the last throwing an obscene gesture at the four of them before t
urning to follow his friends. Markel was still angry, while Treal jabbed Lucius in the ribs, laughing at the memory of the boy being knocked to the floor.
Sighing, Ambrose turned to Lucius.
"There'll be trouble there, mark my words. The Guild has been getting more aggressive over the past few months. Looks like we'll have plenty of work for you yet, and it won't be picking pockets."
Lucius stared past him, watching the boys disappear into a side street leading away from the market, wondering why every time he found an easy living, something always contrived to take it away from him.
CHAPTER 4
Markel had been right as it turned out, Lucius had not been kept on the team for long. A week later, Ambrose announced he was to be taken to the guildhouse of the Night Hands. Thus would start his true induction into the organisation.
He had not been sure quite what to expect of a thieves' headquarters. Something in the sewers, perhaps, accessible only by secret passageways and coded knocks, backed up by the password of the day. Maybe a rundown and dilapidated structure in the poorest quarter of the city, dismissed by passing guard patrols, and yet readily turned into a defensible fort when assaulted, with assassins and marksmen sniping from windows. Or it could be palatial, hiding behind the guise of some noble's holdings and filled with the proceeds of years of thieving, decked in gold and silver, with rare objects d'art scattered in every room in the most vulgar fashion.
It was none of those things. From the outside, the town house looked like every other in the aptly named Rogue's Way. The street had earned its title decades ago from a scandalous merchant who managed to rob several nobles blind before he was discovered and deported back to Pontaine. The house itself was a three storey structure with large bay windows protected from prying eyes by thick curtains and thicker shutters.
The front door appeared solid enough, but it was not until Lucius was permitted entry that he realised its heavy oak exterior was supported inside by metal bands and finely-crafted locks, and he guessed it would take at least a squad of guardsmen armed with a battering ram to break it down.
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