A collection of men lounged around the door of the structure. They all wore faded leather in various forms, and not a one of them looked like anything other than the street ruffians they had grown up to be.
Declan scanned the small crowd and put forth the necessary effort not to sneer. There were six men he could see, outnumbering himself and his fellows two-to-one, and yet, Declan was not concerned at all as he walked up to the man closest the door.
“I’ve come to see the guild master,” Declan said, looking the ruffian right in the eye.
“He’s called the Shadow,” the ruffian said, sneering, “and he don’t take meetings…not with you, not with anybody.”
Declan stood still, holding the ruffian’s eyes with his own. There was no change in Declan’s eyes, no shift in his expression. Declan’s right arm was a whip, the small blade in his hand slicing the left side of the ruffian’s neck just enough for the arterial pressure to spray blood across the door as well as the ruffian beside him. The sneering ruffian collapsed to the ground.
Blades appeared as the remaining five scrambled to their feet.
Declan turned to the bloody compatriot and said, “You know who we are…or at least, you should. As I told the scum bleeding out on the dirt, we’re here to see the guild master.”
Declan stepped over the fifth body to face the sixth guy, but before Declan could speak, this one showed some glimmer of intelligence.
“I get it! I get it!” the ruffian said, pointing at a corpse. “The key to the door is right there. The first guy had it all along.”
Declan looked at the body and saw a key hanging on the corpse’s belt. He returned his gaze to the live ruffian and pointed, saying, “Get it. Open the door.”
“Whoa…I’m just street muscle. I rough people up. I don’t have nothing to do with dead bodies.”
Declan pointed at the body once more as he lifted his right hand, examining the blade he still held and running his thumb over the edge closest the hilt.
The ruffian paled, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He swallowed hard and edged closer to the corpse that had once been a colleague, if not a friend. He tried to stop his hand from shaking as he reached down and pulled the key free, fighting the urge to retch as he smelled the soiled trousers.
Declan waited until the ruffian inserted the key into the lock to say, “Stop.”
The ruffian froze and turned his head to look at Declan, his eyes wide. Declan walked to him, lifting the knife. The ruffian flinched as Declan grabbed his left arm and wiped first one side of the blade and then the other on the sleeve of his leather jerkin. Declan lifted the blade to his eyes, inspecting for any hint of blood before nodding once.
“Better,” Declan said, returning the blade to its sheath. “Now, lead the way.”
The ramshackle building was no more than a front and point of entry. Declan followed the ruffian into the building and down several flights of stairs to emerge in what had once been access tunnels that were abandoned following the construction of the city’s sewer system. Flickering torches illuminated the hewn-rock corridors through which the ruffian led Declan, and Declan saw all manner of criminals as he followed in silence.
The Guild of Shadows had chapters in every major city and town across the known world. Whores, beggars, cutpurses, thieves, smugglers, or murderers…whatever the illicit enterprise, the Guild ran it or took a percentage for ‘licensing fees.’ In many ways, the world was better off for the Guild’s organization; they operated under certain rules and kept things civil for the most part, and they had the numbers to ensure no rivals with less concern for the rules emerged.
The ruffian led Declan and his associates into a cavernous, dome-shaped space about sixty feet across. Many people filled the room, and one man sat on a hand-carved throne at the far back. Declan recognized him as the older man who had led the contingent to the College those weeks back.
“Beggin’ yer pardon,” the ruffian said, “but he-”
The seated man waved his left hand in dismissal, and the ruffian scampered to get out of sight.
“Why are you here?” the seated man asked.
Declan stepped forward to stand in the center of the room and said, “In the North Market earlier today, Gavin Cross was struck across the head and taken to parts unknown. I have come to learn what the Guild knows of it.”
“You kill five of my people and expect me to help you? You’re lucky I’m letting you walk out of here alive.”
The left side of Declan’s mouth curled in a smile that bore no mirth whatsoever, and he said, “You making a wise choice does not translate to me being lucky. Your organization has been somewhat lax in the past with its enforcement of the rules, so I see no reason not to consider the possibility that your organization is behind this…or at least some deniable assets you can throw to the wolves. Give me the information I seek, and my associates and I shall be on our way.”
“Give me one good reason I don’t have you killed right now.”
“How much you value your life,” Declan said, “because make no mistake. The moment anyone here touches a hilt, you die. There are probably sufficient people in the area to take down me and my associates eventually, but a great many of yours will die in the doing…not to mention all those who will die when my associates come for us. Kirloth believed we could wipe you out in three months. I believe it wouldn’t take that long. Care to find out?”
A most awkward silence descended on the space as Declan and the guild master stared each other down. At long last, the guild master looked away.
“Some beggars reported seeing a couple men carrying a black-robed man into the alley beside the dress shop. I can get further information for you.”
“Good,” Declan said, “but while you’re at it, I suggest you devote your organization’s full resources to finding Gavin Cross. If I find him before you do, I’ll consider the lot of you complicit in the act and respond accordingly.”
Without waiting for a response, Declan pivoted on his heel and led his fellows out of the room.
Kiri looked up when she heard the suite’s door open, and she started to smile at seeing Declan return. Then, she took in his expression.
“What is it?” Kiri asked, surging to her feet. “Where’s Gavin?”
“I don’t know, Kiri,” Declan said. “He was knocked unconscious in front of a dress shop in the North Market today and taken. All that can be done to find him is being done.”
Kiri turned to Lillian, saying, “You were saying how you’ve been studying Divination in your spare time. Can you…?”
Lillian stood and directed Kiri back to the chair. She gave her friend the best encouraging smile she could and said, “Of course I’ll try.”
Lillian did her best to clear her mind and focus on Gavin. She thought of his smile, his strength of will, and his dedication to helping others; in Lillian’s mind, these were the foundation of who Gavin was. Her mind prepared, Lillian drew a breath and spoke a Word of Divination, “Phezdys.”
The invocation savaged Lillian, driving her to her knees as blood trickled out of her nose and the corner of her mouth. Lillian leaned back against the armchair she had been sitting in, gasping.
Once she regained her composure, Lillian lifted her head to face Kiri, saying, “He’s somewhere in Mivar Province; that’s all I know. The divination was blocked somehow; I couldn’t get an exact location.”