Queen of the Night Guild, page 26
part #3 of Queen of Thieves Series
* * *
Ilanna’s anxiety blossomed into full-blown panic as the Lady’s Bells rang out. She had six hours until midnight, another six until dawn. She’d scoured half the Warehouse District, hit up every contact she could think of. Still she’d come up empty-handed.
She growled in her throat. The grains of sand in her mental sand timer moved faster now. She couldn’t afford to waste time, yet it seemed like every step she took led her farther from Rhynd. Worse, her search for the Bloody Hand and her friends would move more slowly. The inspection of each warehouse would take longer and require her to descend from the rooftops to walk through each one.
Damn it! This isn’t working. She had to approach the problem from a new angle, but the “how” of it eluded her. Without gold to pay for information, she had to rely on the goodwill of her contacts. The Night Guild hadn’t gone out of their way to make friends. She’d always used the Foxes, Grubbers, and Hounds as sources of information. It felt as if she strode the streets blind and deaf.
I don’t have gold, so I need to get some. She’d waste too much time trying to dig her chest out from beneath the rubble of her home. She had no idea if Filch lived or if the Bloody Hand had gotten to him. That meant she’d have to get money the old-fashioned way.
She clambered down a drainpipe and dropped to the streets below. The Warehouse District bordered the Ward of Refuge. She only needed to find a few men with heavy purses and empty heads, and she’d have enough to pay for all the information she wanted. The thought of having to pick pockets rankled, but she had no choice. She’d spent enough time in fruitless activity.
Tugging up her hood, she hunched her shoulders and shuffled into the main avenue. A few streets away, a company of olive-clad Praamian Guards stood watch. Ilanna cursed and ducked back into the alley.
Can’t go that way. Every Praamian Guard and Arbitor that had gone into the Night Guild tunnels would recognize her on sight. She’d seen the Duke’s men pocket a few of the images of her that lay strewn around the Houses they’d raided. Her days of traveling Praamis under the cloak of anonymity had come to an end.
Now what? She peered around the corner, studying the Praamian Guards. They seemed in no hurry to move. The six olive-clad men stood straight, hands on their swords, eyes scanning the crowd. They had to be searching for her.
Movement in an alley on the opposite side of the street caught her attention. A man in a hooded cloak identical to hers slipped into the main avenue and strode toward the Ward of Refuge with the confident stride of a man on business. The Praamian Guards paid no attention to the man, further confirming her suspicion that they sought only her.
Something about that man looked familiar. The way he moved—always on the balls of his feet, his right hand close to his belt, his eyes never pausing in one place—reminded her of Errik. And Ullard. And Denber, for that matter. The lithe grace and the air of casual danger about him screamed House Serpent.
So one of them got out. Relief flooded her. If one Serpent had survived, perhaps more had. No one knew the sewer system beneath Praamis like the Hounds, but no one could ever accuse the Serpents of being unprepared.
But she couldn’t follow the Serpent into the Ward of Refuge. The guards would spot her immediately, and a day spent searching Praamis had left her exhausted. She’d had only a few hasty mouthfuls of water all day long, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She had no desire for a prolonged chase through the city streets. Or, Watcher forbid, a fight.
Her shoulders tightened, and frustration growled in the back of her throat. She needed to find that Serpent. If nothing else, he could help her track down Rhynd. A second set of eyes and a Serpent’s skill with weapons would go a long way toward freeing her friends.
Her mind raced. How am I going to get past those guards?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, a train of oxen-drawn wagons rumbled toward her, wooden wheels clacking on the cobblestones. Piles of cabbage, lettuce, and other green vegetables rose high. A trio of sleepy-looking caravan guards rode on the near side of the procession.
If she timed it just right, the wagons would provide cover for her to slip past the Praamian Guards and into the Ward of Refuge. She cast a quick glance up the street. The tall man in the Night Guild hood had disappeared around the corner. She’d have to hurry to catch up, but it could work.
Without a second thought, Ilanna slipped out into the street and ducked under the nearest wagon. The laden cart rumbled at an infuriatingly slow pace, but step by step she drew closer to the Praamian Guards. As they drew abreast of the guards, she slipped out from beneath the wagon. Her short stature worked to her advantage. Within a few seconds, the carts had rumbled past the olive-clad men and into the busy marketplace.
Ilanna ducked away from the wagons and dove into the crowd of late-night shoppers and merchants. She slithered through the press of bodies, each step leading her closer to the street where the Serpent had turned. Rounding the corner, she found herself in front of a row of brightly-colored stalls. Her eyes darted up and down the street, searching. The Serpent had disappeared.
She balled her fists in frustration. Watcher take it! He couldn’t have known she followed him. He’d likely made himself scarce to avoid the notice of the Praamian Guards.
Something about the Serpent’s actions nagged at the back of her mind. He’d emerged from the alleyway—a dead end, she knew from experience. A hidden rope in the alley led to the Hawk’s Highway. So what was the Serpent doing there?
Her stomach tightened as she retraced her steps. She paused just out of the Praamian Guards’ field of view, waiting for the right moment to move. A horse-drawn carriage rumbling away from the Coin Counter’s Temple provided her with cover, and she slipped into the alley.
Darkness met her eyes. The stink of debris, ordure, and vomit filled her nostrils. She didn’t dare draw out her quickfire globes for fear of alerting the Praamian Guards. Even after her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she could see nothing out of the ordinary.
So what the hell was the Serpent doing in this alley?
An arm wrapped around her neck, and the tip of a dagger pressed into the underside of her chin. “Give me one good reason not to slit your throat, Ilanna the traitor.”
Chapter 33
Ilanna froze, too late. Blood trickled from the skin split by the dagger’s razor edge.
“A bit of blood will brighten up this alley.” The harsh voice spoke again. “So why stay my hand?”
“Because killing me will be the biggest mistake you’ve made all year, Verum.” She cursed herself; she’d spent so much time training with Allon and Errik, she should have spotted the Serpent doubling back. Coupled with her fatigue, the urgency of finding her friends had made her careless.
Her captor stiffened. Ilanna twisted, punched him in the solar plexus, and danced backward. She wiped at the skin of her neck. “Yes, I’m glad you’re alive, too.”
Verum straightened with a wince and cough. “Traitor!” he spat. “You deserve death for what you did.
She folded her arms. “What I did was save the Night Guild from the Watcher-damned Bloody Hand.”
“By bringing the accursed Arbitors into the tunnel?” Verum tightened his grip on his dagger. “By Derelana, I ought to—”
“You will do nothing.” Her voice dropped to an angry whisper. “You think I wanted to bring the Duke’s men into our home? You think I wanted to watch dozens of Foxes and Grubbers cut down because the Bloodbears and Hounds were ruled by greed instead of sense?” She stepped toward him, heat burning in her chest. “I was the only one who found a solution for the problem all of you were too scared to deal with.” Logic warned her against provoking the Serpent, but anger smothered rationale. “Even after you lot condemned me to execution—because of falsified information planted by the real traitor—I’ve done nothing but try to prevent more Praamian deaths. You can hate me all you want, Verum, but that won’t stop me from doing every bloody thing from finding Errik and putting an end to the Bloody Hand once and for all.”
Verum met the force of her tirade without flinching, but at the mention of her friend, something else—grudging respect, perhaps—glinted in his eyes. “You’re going after Errik? Even with the Duke’s men after you?”
Ilanna nodded. “Damned right I am.” She clenched her fists. “Rhynd took Darreth, Allon, and my Foxes as well. When I find him, I’m going to gut him and watch him die in agony. Then I’m going to do my damnedest to stop the Duke from executing the rest of the Night Guild.”
Verum’s eyebrows lifted. “How?”
“By using the King’s secrets against him. But for that to happen, I need to find Rhynd and the others first. We’ve got mere hours, and all my efforts have come up empty. You had any luck?”
Verum looked away. “We…”
“You haven’t been searching?” Ilanna wanted to shout, but didn’t dare risk alerting the nearby guards.
“We’ve been busy surviving!” Verum’s eyes blazed. “Between the Bloody Hand and the Duke’s men, House Serpent isn’t exactly in fighting condition. There are just three of us left. Sonna’s in bad shape, and Leo’s busy guarding our prisoner.”
“Prisoner?”
Verum gave her a savage grin. “Got our hands on a Voramian.” He thumbed the edge of his blade. “Leo’s got a way of making men talk, especially when they don’t want to.”
Ilanna’s mind raced. Perhaps her luck had turned. She wouldn’t need to spend the rest of the night searching for Rhynd when she could get the answer she wanted from one of his thugs.
“Take me to him.”
Verum raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?” He set his jaw. “You’ve already told the Duke where to find the Night Guild. What’s stopping you from turning the rest of us in?”
“Because the Duke already made his feelings for me very clear. He planned to lock me up in there.” She thrust a finger at the Black Spire rising high above the city. “He’d have killed me along with the others if he wasn’t afraid I’ll spill his secrets. The Duke wants me dead—a long, tedious death by starvation and thirst. He’d keep me alive until everyone forgets I exist, then let me die and make my body disappear. Not exactly best friends, the Duke and I.”
Verum’s eyes narrowed, the wheels behind his eyes turning.
“Think about it, Verum. If I was working for the Duke, why wouldn’t I simply call out and alert the Praamian Guards that I was in danger. I know my way through the sewers as well as a Serpent.” A lie, but he didn’t need to know it. “I could have led the Duke’s men to you at any time.”
Verum’s skeptical expression cracked, but he hesitated. “I still don’t know—”
“Has Errik ever mentioned me?”
Verum nodded.
“He considers me a friend, doesn’t he?”
Again, a nod.
“At this very moment, there is no one in the Guild more important to me than your fellow Serpent. Every minute you spend doubting me is one less minute we can be looking for him and that bastard Rhynd. Think about Errik, and do the right bloody thing!” She drew her dagger and extended it hilt first. “This is my only weapon. Take it if you must, but stop wasting time. Errik’s life—and the lives of every other Journeyman, apprentice, and tyro hangs in the balance.”
After a moment of hesitation, Verum shook his head. “Keep it.” He jerked his chin toward the rear of the alley. “This way. I’ll take you to our prisoner.”
* * *
A miasma of foul odors hung thick in the sewer tunnels through which Verum led her. The Serpent skirted a particularly noxious puddle of a brown-green Ilanna had never seen before. The crumbling stone walls and ceiling spoke of the tunnel’s age.
These have to be the original sewers. They’d spent at least half an hour trekking through the tunnels. Given their starting point near the Ward of Refuge, the distances made sense. They strode beneath the towering mansions and sprawling estates of Old Praamis.
Memories of her imprisonment in the Black Spire kept Ilanna trotting to keep up with Verum’s longer stride. The Duke wanted her dead, but he’d settle for every other man, woman, and child in the Night Guild. If she didn’t deal with Rhynd soon, the Watcher’s Square would be filled with the corpses of her comrades. She couldn’t bear to see Jarl’s body join the many, many others that had already died.
She struggled to hold her tongue. Every moment they spent striding these tunnels was a moment they couldn’t spend hunting down Rhynd or trying to save the Night Guild. They had less than twelve hours before the Duke began the trial. The executions would take place shortly after.
“This way.” Verum nodded with his head. “Watch your step.” He took a running start and leapt over a gaping hole into blackness.
Ilanna peered into the abyss, which descended at least a half-dozen stories into the earth. The foul odor of decay and rot rising from the crevasse sent a shudder down her spine.
“Can you make it?” Verum’s eyes dropped to her shorter legs.
Scowling, Ilanna backed up and took a deep breath. She’d cleared greater distances on the rooftops of Praamis, but that didn’t make the threat of painful death any less terrifying. One wrong move, one misstep on the tunnel’s slick stones, and the Duke wouldn’t need to worry about executing her.
No time for hesitation. Errik’s counting on you.
She dashed toward the edge and hurled her body through the air with every shred of strength in her legs. The far side rushed toward her, and her landing sent a jolt of pain through her knees. Her right foot slipped out from beneath her. She tottered and would have fallen if not for Verum’s steadying hand.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
Verum inclined his head. “Just a little more.”
A few minutes later, Verum pointed to a blank section of wall. “Here.” He pressed what seemed to be a random stone. A thin crack split the wall and a hidden door slid open.
Ilanna marveled at the perfection of the design. No human stonemason could have built such a flawless door. Stories circulating around the Night Guild credited the Serenii with the creation of the network of underground tunnels. They resembled the tunnels beneath Voramis—tunnels Graeme had insisted were also the handiwork of the ancient lost race.
The sight beyond the door drove all other thoughts from Ilanna’s mind. A man in the green-trimmed robes of House Serpent knelt beside a woman in similar garb. Blood stained the front of the woman’s tunic, and the ground beneath her had turned a dark ochre. Even as Ilanna approached, she caught a glimpse of a ragged gash in the woman’s gut. She had a few hours left to live, perhaps a day or two. They would be painful.
The man, Leo, looked up as she entered. His hand flashed to his dagger. “What’s she doing here?”
“Stand down, Leo.” Verum stood between Ilanna and the Serpent. “She’s here to find Errik.”
Leo’s face darkened. “After what she did—”
“She will stand before the Guild Council and answer for her actions. But that means we have to stop the Guild Council from being killed. Starting with Master Serpent.”
Anger still burned in Leo’s eyes, but his hand fell away from his dagger.
Ilanna strode around Verum. “Where is he? Take me to him.”
Leo sneered. “I don’t have to—”
“The more time we waste, the longer Rhynd has to think of new and clever ways to make Errik’s life misery.” She met Leo’s disdain with firm resolve. “And the harder it’ll be to stop Duke Phonnis from executing the rest. So if you’re done with this prick-measuring contest, tell me where you have the Voramian.”
Sonna, the Journeyman on the ground, gave a weak laugh. “Pair on her’s bigger than the both of yous.” Her smile turned wry. “Even though she’s a traitorous bitch.”
Ilanna half-bowed in mockery.
Verum grabbed her arm. “This way.” He led her around a crumbling stone wall.
“How’d it happen?” Ilanna thrust a chin toward Sonna and Leo.
“Company of Arbitors caught us leaving House Hawk. We tore ’em a new one, but one of the bastards caught Sonna.”
Ilanna’s eyes widened. “She’s been like that for two days?” The wound should have killed her by now.
“She’s a stubborn one, Sonna. Refuses to let go until the Bloody Hand is gone. Leo won’t leave her side. Even if he decides to help us once…” He swallowed. “…once Sonna’s gone, he’s going to want you dead for what the Arbitors did to her.”
“He might very well get his wish. Going up against Rhynd could very well be the death of me. Of both of us.”
Verum raised an eyebrow. “And what’s to say I’ll be helping you? After what you did…”
“You’ll help me because of what I did.”
The Serpent’s eyebrows nearly touched his receding hairline. “You’ll have to explain that logic to me.”
Ilanna bared her teeth in a savage smile. “You know there’s nothing that will stop me from doing what needs to be done. No one to stop me. Sabat. The Duke. The Bloody Hand. I’ve proven what happens to anyone who gets in my way. Rhynd happens to be the one standing between me and Errik.”
“Gods have mercy on Rhynd, eh?”
Ilanna nodded. “But first we have to find him, which means getting your prisoner to talk, by whatever means necessary.”
The ferocity of Verum’s grin matched the fire burning within her. “Oh, I believe we’re uniquely suited to help you convince our friend to be forthcoming.” He cracked his knuckles. “He’ll give us what we need to know. I guarantee it.”
She followed the Serpent into a nearby section of tunnel. A man lay hog-tied on the floor, a gag in his mouth. Ilanna crouched over him and spoke in a soft voice. “Hello, friend. You and I are going to have a little chat.”
Chapter 34
Blood stained the face, neck, and bare chest of the Voramian. Burns showed on his wrists and ankles where the rope dug into his flesh. When Verum rolled the thug over, Ilanna caught a glimpse of dark lines carved into his chest, a match for the lacerations on his back and shoulders. Two fingers on each of his hands would never heal straight; it looked as if Leo had taken a hammer to them.
