Seren would have preferred Jamus carry the book, at least. It was his idea to steal it, after all. She took the book out of the sack and studied its cover. She recognized the Cannith crest; she had seen it in the city often enough. Beneath a small hammer and anvil design, the snarling metal bull’s head of a gorgon glared up at her. The relatively indifferent albatross beneath it was not typically part of the crest. It must be some sort of personal seal. Seren opened the book and flipped through the pages cautiously. She told herself she was merely checking to make sure that the book hadn’t been damaged by the rain. In reality she wanted to know what was so important about it. Diagrams covered the pages within, depicting airships, clockwork mechanisms, and other artifacts whose purpose Seren could not comprehend. The writing was in a strange, arcane cipher. It told her nothing, nothing that would explain why it was important enough to make enemies of House Cannith.
The Canniths were one of the twelve dragonmarked houses, powerful organizations ruled by individuals born marked by hereditary arcane symbols. Seren didn’t really understand what the Prophecy was, nor did she really care. All she knew was that the Prophecy gave incredible powers to those marked by it. Each of the dragonmarked houses boasted magical abilities and had used those abilities to cultivate great wealth and political influence. Each house was as powerful as a country, the services they offered so valuable that their power transcended international boundaries.
House Cannith bore the Mark of Making, which granted the ability to repair what had been broken or to create new things. They were engineers, artificers, and weaponsmiths. Many of the most incredible inventions in all of Eberron-the lightning rails, the airships, and even the mysterious warforged soldiers-bore a Cannith artisan’s seal. Many of the most ferocious battles in the Last War had been fought with Cannith weapons, and Breland was not the only nation that still owed them a great debt. If this book was as valuable as Jamus claimed and the Canniths realized who had stolen it from them … well, making two thieves in the slums of Wroat disappear wouldn’t be such a difficult task for a house that commanded the loyalty of kings.
Seren pushed the book back into the sack and pushed such thoughts away with it. Her own words returned to her-can’t turn back once you start or you’ll never finish. There was no option now but to see the job through and try to make a profit. If this really got her out of Wroat, then maybe it was worth it.
But she hated waiting the most.
CHAPTER 2
Seren slipped back into the streets, avoiding the main roads as best she could. She cursed the rain again as it instantly soaked her cloak and clung to her bare legs. No one was in the streets at this time of night, no crowd to fade into. Anyone outside at this time of night would look suspicious. Though she was a fairly talented thief, her face was not unknown to the City Watch. Recognition was inevitable, Jamus had said. Just as even the finest tailor sometimes stuck himself with a needle; all the finest thieves got caught. Even Seren had visited the city’s prison.
All things considered, her brief stay in the dungeon had been comfortable. The cells weren’t the dank, shadowed affairs she expected but were in fact surprisingly clean and dry. Her cellmate was a quiet old woman who kept to herself. Seren never even knew why she was there and hadn’t wanted to pry. Warden Thomas was a polite and courteous young man. He had seemed a bit taken with Seren, so she flirted innocently to pass the time. The more she flirted back, the more the quality of her food improved. It would have been a rather pleasant stay overall if it hadn’t been, well, prison.
After a few weeks as a guest of the King (as Jamus called it), Seren had been turned out on the streets. As large a city as Wroat was, its prisons were extremely crowded with all manner of serious criminals. There simply was no room for a minor offender like Seren, so it was not unusual to be set free after such a short time if you knew better than to make trouble for the guards. Yet forgiveness did not imply forgetfulness. The Wroat City Watch was annoyingly vigilant. They kept a list of known thieves, and hardly a week went by that she was not harassed on suspicion of one crime or another, usually a matter in which she had no involvement.
Ironically it was her innocence that had earned her something of a reputation with the city watchmen. Seren sometimes found it difficult to control her temper, and more than one guard had been on the receiving end of a scathing verbal assault when she knew she had a solid alibi. One such event had even led to her being thrown into the prisons again after making a particularly brutal comment about a high-ranking watchman’s parentage. It had only been for a night, and it was nice to see Warden Thomas again, but Seren had tried to control her temper and avoid the Watch since then-especially on nights like tonight, when she actually had been up to no good and was still carrying the fruits of her illicit labor in a burlap sack on her hip.
The sound of heavy boots approached from around the corner. Seren fell into a crouch and ducked behind a rain barrel. She could hear the creak of armor and the metal clank of swords as they slapped against armored legs. A cold chill spread down her back; a stream of water spilled from a leak in the gutter directly onto her shoulders, soaking through her cloak and adding to her general misery. She grimaced and stayed where she was. She feared that if she shifted position the new sound of water striking cobblestones might alert the guards.
The footsteps drew closer, stopping near the barrels. Seren peered up to see the backs of two watchmen, standing uncomfortably close to her. They didn’t seem interested in much besides stepping out of the rain, but she quieted her breathing and hunched lower anyway.
“Damn this weather,” one of the guards grumbled. “First night I have patrol in a week and it rains like this. Can’t believe they expect us to walk the streets on a night like this.”
If the guards hated walking in it, Seren thought to herself, maybe they should try climbing in it. Preferably now, somewhere far away from here, so she could get out from under the leak and leave.
“Typical,” the other watchman answered. “Someone up there doesn’t like us I guess, Rolf.”
Someone down here doesn’t like you much either. Leave!
“Well it’s not as if anything is even going on tonight, Shain,” the watchman who apparently was named Rolf countered. “Nobody in their right mind would be out on a night like tonight.”
Seren had no argument.
“Mmm-hm,” came the other guard’s agreement. She heard the dry hiss of a match striking stone, followed by the faint smell of burning herb.
“No thanks, trying to quit,” Rolf said to some unspoken offer. “Wife can’t stand washing the smoke smell out of my armor.”
“You sure?” said the other. “Karrnathi cigars. They’re the best.”
“Aren’t those expensive?”
“Host, yes,” Officer Shain said. “This pack cost me a week’s pay, but they’re worth it. Finest smoke in Eberron.”
“Doris would kill you if she knew you spent that kind of money on cigars.”
“That’s why I offered you one,” Shain said. “So you don’t tell her.”
A long pause. Thunder cracked overhead, and the stream of rain on Seren’s back came down a bit more forcefully. “Very well, then,” Rolf said. “May as well enjoy ourselves and wait for this rain to die down.”
Seren gritted her teeth and clutched her knees with both arms, trying to preserve what warmth she could. She suspected she had never hated two people as much in her entire life as she did these two watchmen. She shivered uncontrollably. She would have to risk moving out from under the leak and hope they were too stupid to notice. If she stayed here any longer they would hear her teeth chatter anyway. She crawled slowly, looking up at the guards as the water fell gently on the street. Seren scowled. Somehow it irritated her that they didn’t even notice the sound after she’d suffered so much not to draw any attention. Shaking her head, she began to crawl deeper into the alley.