"What did he call me back there? A purse?"
"A victim, someone with a purse to steal. I said you were a blood, a blood brother. I can't pass you off as an assassin because you don't move like one. I asked if the guild were fisted or palmed: closed to new members or open. It's open because the ferrets have killed some folk lately. Am I a pursecutter? No, a burglar-a latch-breaker-mostly. And a scavenger looting warehouses with your muscle. The guild fee is half what you carry to join, then half what you make after. Keep your stone honed means keep your knife sharp for good luck. If your blade snags while you're cutting purse strings, the pigeon might notice and object."
Brain reeling, Sunbright thought of a dozen questions. Why a ferret, which was a brown weasel, for instance? "What happens if you don't join the guild?" he asked.
"And go about thieving? The guild saws off your hands and feet. While you watch."
"Hunh. Why give your name as Butterfly?"
"Would you have me give Knucklebones?"
"Why am I Ten Pound?"
"You carry a ten pound tool, don't you?"
"No. Harvester weighs-oh. A joke." Sunbright huffed as they clumped down and around the spiral ramp. "Why all this obscure cant? Why not just talk?"
"Cant is quicker in an emergency. And it confuses guards if you're in their clutches."
"Are thieves captured often?"
"And robbed by the guards, yes. Usually they're forced into labor gangs on the ground. Unless you hurt or kill a guard. Then they fly you home."
"Home where?"
"Earthmother. They pitch you off the island to 'fly' to earth."
Sunbright's stomach lurched. "But why does the city tolerate thieves at all?" he asked. "Why not make one big purge and wipe them out?"
A shrug of narrow shoulders, and Knucklebones said, "Catching thieves gives the guards work. What would you have them do, arrest mages? Besides, many rogues are only part-time. Otherwise they toil at the docks, or black boots, or dig graves. Which lets them pilfer leather, cut purses, and loot the dead. Besides, when I pay half my 'winnings' to the guild, the guild pays half to the authorities."
"What?" Noise from below had increased, so Sunbright no longer whispered, "You mean the city takes bribes from the thieves' guild?"
"You're learning, country mouse, but they're not bribes. They're taxes, gifts. It costs to be a citizen."
Sunbright sighed. "None of this makes sense."
"Neither does spearing killer whales through the ice."
"Hunh? That's easy."
"Uh, hunh."
The spiraling ramp finally ended, and Sunbright was amazed by a virtual village at the bottom. In a catacomb bored from stone ran tunnels and passageways and balconies filled with smoky taverns, shops, a smith, a washroom with hot and cold water, niches with beds, and a common room where three dozen roisterers cheered a wrestling match among two women and a man. The air reeked of sweat and ale and smoke and ham and soap and drain water, and rang to the sound of hammers, laughter, jokes, creaking bellows, laundry slapping, and children splashing one another.
"Are these all thieves?" asked the tundra man.
"Oh, no." Knucklebones grinned, her usual aplomb giving way to joy at finally being home. "Those with the gloves in their belts are stevedores. The aprons mark housekeepers. And those blokes in the tight pants are prostitutes. And see there? Rich snots seeking thrills- you met some like them in Karsus. Isn't it grand?"
"It's not very secret."
"Don't fret. Hungry?"
Knucklebones laughed to see Sunbright salivate. She handed him coins and told him, "Order something at the bar while I check bolt holes." She faded away, leaving Sunbright as awkward and out of place as a polar bear amidst these ribald strangers. He bought bowls of mutton stew, mugs of frothy harvest ale, and black bread at the bar, found a not-so grimy table, and plunked down. He'd eaten all his before Knucklebones returned.
"Found the exits," she said. "There are seven, but five one-way only. That's good."
Sunbright watched her eat hungrily, so she gave him more coins for a refill. The wrestling done, a man with a lute sang a long, sad romance. Finally the warrior patted his belly and said, "What next?"
"Already done. A mage named Bly can scry what we need. She lives in the Street of the Faithful Protector on the east side. What does that tell us?"
Sunbright thought. "If she lives on the east side," he said, "she must be prosperous? Good at her work?"
"Excellent!" Knucklebones said, licking gravy from her lip. Her one green eye shone with happiness at being home. "But she'll be expensive. We'll need money, or else must strike a bargain. I don't know what to offer, but mages are always arse-deep in intrigue, so-"
"RAID!"
Knucklebones didn't even look around. Grabbing Sunbright's wrist, she hurled the table aside and yanked him out of the chair. He stumbled to one knee. She shrilled, "Come on, sluefoot!"
Men and women hollered, shouts rebounded and echoed from stone walls. Children scurried underfoot like rats and dived through doorways and down chutes and up ladders. In the tavern, bartenders doused torches in dishwater. In darkness, the cat-eyed thief slid past panicked people, upset furniture, and spilled flagons and plates. Towed by one hand, Sunbright banged every item with knees, shins, and toes.
As Knucklebones dragged him around a corner, the barbarian glimpsed a horde pounding down the ramp in blazing light. City guards in polished lobstertail helmets and yellow tunics emblazoned with I for Ioulaum carried silver-tipped maces and I-shaped shields with gasglobe lanterns bolted to the upper bar. As they surged into the crowd, a mix of workers and young nobles, they methodically clubbed down the working class, breaking collarbones and arms and cracking skulls, while letting the nobles stream past and up the ramp. That rich snots escaped harm while average people suffered lit Sunbright's temper, but Knucklebones soon towed him into a dark tunnel after other escapees.
Yet light flared ahead. Someone yelped before being clubbed down. Curses and screams and thuds resounded.
"They've come two ways!" Knucklebones chirped, and immediately tacked against the stalled crowd.
"Get behind!" Sunbright yelled, hoisted her bodily, and plunked her in back of him. "Which way?"
In spinning darkness and a milling crowd, the small rogue latched onto his belt, and tugged sharply left. "Go! But for the love of Kismet, don't kill anyone!"
Good advice, the barbarian recalled. He'd killed guards in Karsus, and whole teams with sniffing golems had tracked them to Knucklebones's lair, and wiped out her gang. Pointing his arms as if swimming, Sunbright cleaved into the milling mob, but gently.
And too late. Lights sparkled before Sunbright's eyes as three guards in a wedge smashed and trod under a half dozen people. The big barbarian became their target. In the glare of shield lamps, he saw three maces raise as one.
Tilting back on one leg and mashing Knucklebones against a wall, Sunbright raised a moosehide boot and lashed out, hollering, "Ra-vens!"
His high kick smashed a lantern atop an I-shaped shield. Glass and a silver-wire cage crunched, and the globe winked out. The mighty blow snagged an inside corner of the shield and wrenched it from the guard's arm. The man rocked back with a curse, his hand sprained. He fumbled his mace and dropped it.