As they descended into the basement, Raith stopped to use his skill periodically and check for surprises. Wil moving in front reassured him there probably weren’t any traps, but better safe than sorry. He did notice several suspicious looking dark knots in the walls that he was fairly sure served as spyholes, and possibly ports for crossbow bolts.
The stairs went down about twice as far as he’d expected. Halfway down, the hot air from the crowded tavern cooled to a pleasant temperature. There had to be runework involved in that.
At the bottom sat a spacious foyer with four doors and two oversized guards. The door directly ahead was open, with smoke and laughter drifting out in equal measure. Raith could see in to a large barroom with several gambling tables set up, and quite a few dubious looking men enjoying their drink. It was the type of scene he had expected to see upstairs during his first visit to the Drunken Crow..
Another door sat on the wall facing them, with two more to either side. All three were closed, and Raith stifled the urge to go nosing around down here. Willoughby took them to the right with a nod to the guards.
The room he led them into was an expansive office or waiting room. The sitting area and desk weren’t as nice as the ones in the noble’s mansion where he met Wil, but they weren’t far off, either. A detailed map of the city decorated the wall behind the desk, and beneath it a shelf of books that Raith longed to go page through.
Rather going to sit behind the desk as Raith expected, Wil found a seat in the lounge area and gestured for the two of them to sit.
“Is this your office? Not bad.” Raith asked, taking a seat on the couch across from Wil.
Wil’s scarred face broke into a pleasant smile and he shook his head.
“We’re not really the sort to get offices, lad. This here is a communal Guild area that is good for conducting business. No need to bring outsiders on a tour of the place, if you catch my meaning.”
Nyhm had elected to stand with arms folded at the end of the couch near Raith. Wil glanced at him mildly but didn’t comment.
There was no sense in delaying the inevitable, so Raith just spit it out.
“The city guards confiscated the alarm stone.”
Wil’s entire forehead crinkled as his eyebrows went up.
“I see. We’ll get to that. Let’s start with how you got caught.”
Raith relayed the tale, leaving out mention of the specific title he had been reading. He glanced at Nyhm, realizing it was his first time hearing the story as well. Wil let him speak freely and ramble uninterrupted, right up until the part where the captain told him the Order of the Loom had dropped all charges.
“And why do you suppose they did that?”
Raith shrugged helplessly.
“I’ve been wracking my brain over it. The only thing I can come up with is that my best friend’s dad is fairly high up in the Loremaster sect. Maybe he pulled some strings?” He glanced at Nyhm for help, who only gave a barely perceptible shrug.
Wil looked thoughtful for a few seconds before responding.
“I know three things at the moment.” He held up a hand and displayed a single thick finger. “First, to the best of your knowledge, you were telling it to me straight just now.”
Raith’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
“I didn’t realize you trusted me so much.”
“I do not. The lamp on the table next to you is a truth detector, and it did not so much as flicker whilst you recounted your tale.” Another finger went up. “Second, scholars in the Order do not typically have the clout to make decisions like that.” A third digit joined the others. “And last, we do not currently have a better theory for why you were cut loose. This presents the sort of mystery our fine Guild does not especially care for, if you know what I mean.”
The door burst open and Raith leapt to his feet. Nyhm started activating tattoos and got into a fighting stance, ready for anything.
How could I be so stupid as to trust a thief?
“Sorry about that.” A fit, middle aged gnome gently shut the door behind him. He wore spectacles, fine clothing, and an intricately worked leather belt with at least a dozen small compartments attached. “These hinges may be a little too well oiled.” He chuckled, then looked over the top of his spectacles at each person. Ignoring the brothers’ obvious alarm, he walked over to a cabinet and poured himself a glass of some bright orange liquid from a crystal decanter before settling into a seat near the others.
“Is this him?” he asked Wil, gesturing with his glass towards Raith.
“Yes sir. The prospect I told you about. Raith, this is Guildmaster Embrey.” He shot a significant look at Raith to emphasize that last part.
“Please just call me Embrey.” He took off his spectacles and unsnapped one of the leather compartments on his belt. It was much too small to hold the glasses, but he slid them in the top and they disappeared into the pouch before he snapped it back closed. The belt of magical pouches reminded Raith of his uncle’s wondrous bandoleer, and he ran his hand along his own unenchanted version slung across his chest.
The Guildmaster looked to Raith again.
“Did you read the book?”
“Yes sir. Tapestry of a Trapmaster, by Rold Gimmley. I read the entire thing.”
The gnome’s eyes lit up with delight. Raith dropped the bad news before the Guildmaster could get too excited.
“But I was just telling Wil here. I lost the alarm stone. I’m very sorry, sir.”
Embrey dismissed it with a wave.
“The stone is but a grain of sand to a beach if you can provide me with the contents of that tome, young man. Willoughby tells me you have a skill to recount it verbatim?”
“Yes, sir. [Recall Passage].”
The gnome nodded and leaned forward.
“I am familiar with the [Skill]. Willoughby, this man is to remain here and in our care until the entire manuscript is recovered from his lovely head. Please make him and his guest as comfortable as possible.”
Raith’s heart sank. He glanced at his brother, who continued to be of no help whatsoever. Nyhm would back his play one way or the other, so it was up to him. It seemed like an extraordinarily bad idea to try to fight their way out of there. Embrey had to be at least fourth braid to rise to power in a city this big. He was probably fifth. There’s no telling what was in those pouches of his, but he was assuredly not defenseless.
He finally decided that straightforward honesty was the best route.
“Sir, we have a funeral for our uncle tomorrow. I’m not a very fast writer. It’s likely to take me a week to pen the entire book.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The gnome laughed aloud and slapped his knee.
“Writing by hand? Goodness no, my young friend. I would not rely on untrained penmanship for such an important task. I have already prepared a tome that will scribe it as you speak. With your [Skill] cooldown, it shouldn’t take more than ten hours if I’m not mistaken.”
Raith checked his pocket watch, a coming of age gift from Vandamir. He nodded hesitantly. That should still give them plenty of time to get washed up and changed for the funeral. He glanced up at Nyhm. Again, with the damn noncommittal shrug.
“When do I start?”
“That’s the zest I like to see.” He unsnapped another pouch, this one much wider than the first. Hooking his thumb inside, he pulled the edge forward and the entire opening stretched many times larger. Reaching in with his other hand, the gnome pulled out a tome freshly bound in leather. He got up and handed the book to Raith.
Opening the book, he saw that all of the pages were blank.
“How does it work?”
Embrey showed him how to activate the magic, then took a step back and gave a slight bow.
“I shall leave you in Willoughby’s capable hands.”
After the Guildmaster left, Wil rose to his feet.
“Do either of you lads need a bite to eat or a something to wet your whistle?”
Raith noticed Nyhm had come around behind the couch to peer over his shoulder at the book. The brothers glanced at each other. They were always hungry.
“Can we just get a big sampling of the festival food they were eating upstairs? We’ll pick at it while I work.”
The next twelve hours were an exercise tedium. The food was fine and the room was comfortable enough, but Raith was unaccustomed to speaking for any length of time. He found his throat quickly became sore, and he had to frequently take breaks longer than the [Skill] cooldown to drink some water. At one point, he considered asking for a minor healing potion, but that seemed a bit excessive.
Nyhm spent the time poking around the room and meditating. Raith was jealous of how the elfling could apparently sit for hours on end without getting bored or uncomfortable. Unless he was working on something in [Staccato], Raith couldn’t sit still for five minutes straight. He wondered idly if the detachment from bodily sensations was why he could focus so long in the [Skill] but not in normal life.
When Raith was finally finished, he looked up at Wil. The thief was folded in to a very uncomfortable looking position in his chair and snoring like an ox.
“Hey, Wil. I’m done.”
“Whazzit?”
The man woke with a start, reaching for his dagger before realizing where he was. It took a few more moments before his eyes focused on Raith. He stood up and stretched.
“About time. I have had considerably more dangerous guild [Quests] than watching you talk to a book all night, but never one more boring.” He threw a glance at Nyhm, who was meditating cross legged on the desk. “It would’ve helped if that one was worth a kobold’s ass for conversation. Lemme take a wee, and I’ll try to find the Guildmaster.”
The time was starting to make Raith nervous. It would take them about a twenty minutes to get home, twenty minutes to wash up and change, and then another twenty to get to the rites. With an hour and a half before it started, they had to be moving within the next half hour.
He couldn’t afford to lose any more points with his parents right now, but entirely aside from that he had looked up to and admired his uncle. Being late would be disrespectful to his memory, and Raith didn’t want another reason to think of himself as a fuckup.
Fifteen minutes later, Wil came sauntering back in with the Guildmaster in tow. Raith held out the book and Embrey took it reverently. He opened it to the first page and read. No one made a noise as the Guildmaster finished one page and started on the next.
A smile crept on to his face. He then skipped to a random spot in the middle, and the smile grew so huge he almost looked crazy. The book closed gently and disappeared into one of his many pouches.
“That will do nicely. You’ve done me a great service, young man. One I will not soon forget.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Oh and Raith.”
“Yes?”
A sly smile came across the Guildmaster’s face.
“Welcome to the Thieves Guild.” He flipped a silver medallion towards Raith, who deftly snatched it from the air. “Keep that somewhere safe. Lieutenant Willoughby, our new friend will be joining us at the rank of Journeyman. Please provide him with anything he needs to get started from the appropriate stores.” And with that, Embrey made his exit.
Raith was surprised to find himself ecstatic. He’d never had the slightest interest in joining the Thieves Guild. Something about the belonging, the exclusive membership, filled a hole he hadn’t realized was even there.
A warm glow spread over him as he examined the medallion. On one side, a crescent moon with the rune for ‘silence’ was engraved. The other side depicted a detailed web so intricate that a [Skill] must have been used to craft the image.
Wil clapped him heartily on the shoulder.
“Welcome, lad. I knew you was Guild material from the moment we met.”
It didn’t seem like a good time to point out that Wil tried to stab him the moment they met. Raith looked at the medallion again, turning it over in his hands.
“Don’t lose that. It’s how you prove your rank and membership.”
“Is it magical?”
“At the Journeymen rank, they are. Once you attune it, it gives a small bonus to speed and agility that will improve as you gain rank in the Guild. It’ll also bear your identity, so no one can steal it or pass it off as theirs.”
The older thief walked to the door and gestured for Raith to follow.
“Come on then. We’ve a few welcoming gifts for you.”
It had been another five minutes, leaving him with ten before he absolutely had to get going.
Embrey said I’m getting some equipment. I don’t want to miss this.
He moved to follow Wil. Nyhm fell in behind, but Wil held up a hand.
“Terribly sorry lads, but your brother cannot be joining us deeper into the guild. Trade secrets and all that.”
Raith looked at Nyhm and an unspoken conversation took place. His brother tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows. You’d better not be late. Raith sneered for a reply. I know. I’m not an idiot. A downturn at the corner of Nyhm’s mouth indicated his skepticism about the last part, and he headed past them up the stairs.
Wil watched the exchange in wonder.
“Does that man ever speak?”
“Not if he can help it.”
They proceeded through the second door across from the stairs. It opened into a wide, high ceilinged hallway that stretched on for an improbably long distance.
Threaded gods. How big is this place? It must stretch under half the district.
Halfway down the first corridor, Wil turned right into another long series of doors. They were all closed, and everything was eerily silent in the early morning hours. They arrived at the correct door, and Willoughby produced a small key from somewhere.
Seven minutes left.
The lock opened with a click, and the door open to reveal a large store room.
“Nearly everyone starts as Apprentice guild members who aren’t allowed in here, I’ll have you know. This is brand new, high quality equipment typically reserved for senior members. You lot usually get crummy used gear, if anything at all. That book must have really impressed Guildmaster Embrey.”
Raith stepped in to see shelves and cabinets organized into sections. The largest section by far, taking up the entire back wall, was a worktable with trapmaking components and a few relevant tomes. Other sections included disguises, rope with grappling hooks, burglary tools, and a rack of potions.
“What am I allowed to take?”
“Depends on what you need. We strongly believe in keeping the greedy part of our natures outside the walls of this Guild. Prevents all sorts of ugliness, as you might imagine. What sort of [Rogue] path are you planning on?”
Weaving the [Thief] class had not been a part of some far reaching plan. Vandimir sold a trilogy of books before Raith had gotten a chance to read the last volume. The noble who purchased the books went out of his way to be rude about saying no when Raith asked for a chance to finish the series. He hadn’t planned anything for this class, and knew almost nothing about it. But the question jogged the memory of his rooftop running friend.
“Do you know a guy named Kieran?”
Willoughby let out a low whistle.
“Do I know the most daring, most charming, most successful midnighter this fair city has ever seen?” He threw Raith a wink. “Not that I’ll ever admit to. I’m surprised I didn’t think of that path myself after our initial friendly encounter. You’d need another [Rogue] class to stitch his [Shadow Skills], but I believe I can point you in a helpful direction.”
Walking over to a collection of books to the right, Wil examined them closely before pulling one out and handing it to Raith.
“Why don’t you give that a quick read, and I’ll put a few things in a pack for you.”
Raith took the book, and he could have kissed Wil’s ugly mug as soon as he saw the class name.
“[Thief Acrobat]?”
Wil nodded.
“Aye. That book will detail the first three braids for that path, along with a number of [Skills] that can be stitched from the classes. If you want more general [Thief] skills, we’ve got another book over here.”
“This is perfect. Thank you.”
Another four minutes flew by as Raith devoured the book. For the first time, he found himself excited about his [Thief] class. A pleasant change from his normal embarrassment at another impulsive decision. He had no idea what Wil had thrown in the pack, but when he looked up, it was sitting on the table next to him, ready to go.
He grabbed it and was about to run off when he remembered another detail from their first encounter.
“Do you have any books on detecting and disarming traps? And maybe lockpicking?”
The scarred thief selected a tome from by the trap worktable, and reached past Raith to grab another from the shelf behind him.
“These two lovelys will take any prowler from beginner to advanced with enough study and practice. A few good [Skills], as well, if you’ve a mind to stitch them.”
He looked at the trap book with despair. It was huge and should be leaving right now.
“Can I bring these with me?”
Wil patted the table.
“They shall be right here to peruse whenever you decide to return.”
What if they change their mind about letting me in here? Or Willoughby isn’t around?
Raith looked at the books, then considered his run home.
I’ve got time. I can make it.
