“May I see your staff?” Mancred asked suddenly.
Cael handed it over with obvious reluctance. “I only want to examine it for a moment,” the old thief said. He took it nearer the window to get a better light to see by.
Alynthia insisted, “A staff is no weapon for a thief.”
“It serves me well,” Cael said, refraining from any further explanation.
After a moment, Mancred handed it back, shaking his head. “It seems ordinary enough,” he said, “but I sense it has unusual powers.” He nodded to Alynthia, who did her best to look unimpressed.
“Anyway, the guards of the city know me as a cripple,” Cael continued as he turned back to the Guild Captain. “I cannot suddenly appear on the streets healed of my injury.”
“What injury?”
“I was trampled by the horse of a Solamnic Knight,” Cael said, displaying his twisted ankle. He immediately straightened it, and then wiggled it around to show its flexibility. “Of course, it healed some years ago, but the Dark Knights like the story. It makes them think I am sympathetic to them.”
“They don’t think so anymore. Isn’t it obvious that they have orders to arrest you?” Alynthia argued.
Cael shrugged and pulled his wet, torn boots from his feet. “Hand me those brown boots from the wardrobe,” he said.
“Who did you offend? It must have been someone very powerful,” Alynthia said thoughtfully as she retrieved his boots. Then, realizing what she was doing, she threw the boots on the floor just out of Cael’s reach. “Get your own boots!” she snarled.
Chapter Twenty
Alynthia knelt by the window, peering out, while Cael slipped into a black cloak and hood and drew a mask over the lower half of his face. Glancing back at him, she shook her head. “Even with the mask, anyone can tell you are an elf,” she whispered.
“I cannot change who I am,” he answered, his voice muffled by the mask.
“A shame. Well, it will have to do,” she said, returning her attention to the window. Outside, the full moon stood poised on the peaks of the mountains to the east of Palanthas. By its light, Cael folded a small black cloth bag and tucked it into the pouch at his belt. The bag, which they had found upon entering the room a little more than an hour ago, contained the soft black outer garments, masks, and capes that he and Alynthia now wore. It also contained, two broad-bladed poniards, equally suited to close fighting or throwing.
Thieves of the Second Circle of the Guild, in whose territory the building stood, had placed the bag here in preparation of the evening’s work. It was the nature of the new Guild not to allow one hand to know what the other was doing, so those who left the parcel of clothing did so without knowing the reason and without questioning it. The command came from above and was authorized by the seal of Mulciber.
The room’s only window commanded a crossing of two alleyways, one running east to west, the other northeast to southwest. It was partially boarded over, allowing a good view of all that passed without, while concealing those within. The moon shining down the east alley revealed anyone approaching from that direction.
“Make yourself ready. It is almost time,” said Alynthia.
“It’s hours yet, surely. The night is still young,” Cael said.
“When the moon clears the eastern peaks, we go. That is the order.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to wait until the night is old and Jenna is deep into her sleep?” the elf asked.
“Mistress Jenna seals her house against all intrusion before retiring for the night, so we propose to enter while she is awake and before her wards are set.”
“Sounds tricky,” Cael said.
“It is. You will do nothing except under my direct order, do you understand me?”
“Aye, Captain sir,” Cael answered.
They waited in silence while the moon rose behind the distant mountains. The city around them was quiet, for here, so close to the Shoikan Grove, most of the buildings were abandoned and empty. Despite the hundreds of years that had passed since the grove first appeared, these buildings remained in good repair. Rather than allow any section of Palanthas the Beautiful, City of Seven Circles, to fall into disrepair, the city paid handsomely to maintain these buildings, hiring laborers willing to brave the proximity of the magical grove in exchange for the princely sums such work commanded. A few hardy souls still lived in this neighborhood, mostly mages and folk of similar occupation, people seeking quiet and solitude away from the hubbub of the city. This situation was made all the more strange because the grove stood quite near the very center of the city, within shouting distance of some of the busiest quarters in town. For the most part, though, only the wind whistled down these alleys, and shadows played in the courtyards.
Finally, Alynthia whispered, “It is time.”
Together they slipped through the window and into the alley beyond. Keeping to the shadows, Alynthia led them along a narrow path. They passed with no more sound than two cloud shadows racing along the ground. In moments, they halted beside a blank wall, and ‘Alynthia placed her black-gloved hand against Cael’s lips, enjoining him to silence. They waited again, huddling in the shadows.
A rope of black-dyed silk dropped down and dangled between them, brushing their shoulders. Alynthia steadied it with her hand and looked up, signaling to those on the roof. She pointed at Cael’s staff and lifted her eyebrows as though to say, “How do you expect to climb a wall carrying a staff in your hands?”
In answer, he placed his staff against the wall and whispered, “Conceal.” A reddish glow enveloped the dark wood, but the staff did not otherwise change. A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Conceal,” he whispered again. The staffs crimson glow faded, then vanished.
Alynthia pulled him close and hissed into his ear, “What are you doing?”
Cael stared at the wall for a moment. “It must be protected against magical intrusion,” he whispered.
“Of course it is! Now climb, before we are seen!”
Cael shrugged, still staring in bafflement at the wall. He turned away from Alynthia for a moment, and when he turned back, the staff was no larger than a cane. He slipped it under his belt.
Alynthia shook her head as though she disapproved but motioned impatiently for him to climb. He grasped the rope and started up, Alynthia following close behind.
He reached the roofs edge, three stories above the alley, and found a masked thief steadying the rope. Another extended a black-gloved hand and helped him up the last few feet. When Alynthia appeared below, each lent a hand in lifting her to the roof and setting her on her feet. At a quick sign, they vanished into the darkness, finding ready places of concealment. Alynthia drew up the rope and left it coiled at the roofs edge.
The roof of Mistress Jenna’s house was flat, unlike most of the roofs of the surrounding buildings. A short wall enclosed it, providing a sort of battlement, if it were needed. Cael scanned the roof and with his elven sight saw by the glow of their bodies’ heat no less than a dozen thieves covering every possible route of escape and keeping a careful, inconspicuous watch over the city below. Not far away, the trees of the Shoikan Grove rose above the rooftops as though keeping their own watch over the thieves. The trees’ shadows, looming so near, made everyone more tense and wary.
Near the center of the roof, four thieves huddled in a small group. Alynthia nudged Cael. He dropped into a crouch, running with a swift, light gait. Alynthia followed him.
Three of the four thieves turned. The fourth was busy at some task of obvious delicacy, judging by his level of concentration. He was carefully pouring something onto the roof. Acrid smoke rose up around his face, swirling up from where the liquid bubbled and hissed on the roofs surface.