The Master Thief Trilogy: The Master Thief

By Ben Hale

The Thieves Guild is renowned for their ability to steal anything. Its elite members have robbed nobles of wealth, reputation, and even their honor. The Guildmaster rules them with brutality and fear, yet his name and past are a mystery. From the depths of the Evermist swamp he seeks a master thief, one who can help him reclaim his lost power.

 

Young and brash, Jack Myst has drawn the Guildmaster's attention. His feats mark his potential, but his audacity and cunning make him dangerous. After years of preparation an invitation from the guild is exactly what he desires. When he gets it his hunt begins, and there is nothing he cannot steal.

 

Even the Guildmaster's secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ben Hale
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223480648

Book preview

The Chronicles of Lumineia

By Ben Hale

—The Master Thief—

Jack of Thieves

Thief in the Myst

The God Thief

—The Second Draeken War—

Elseerian

The Gathering

Seven Days

The List Unseen

—The Warsworn—

The Flesh of War

The Age of War

The Heart of War

—The White Mage Saga—

Assassin’s Blade (Short story prequel)

The Last Oracle

The Sword of Elseerian

Descent Unto Dark

Impact of the Fallen

The Forge of Light

Trilogy Table of Contents

Jack of Thieves

Thief in the Myst

The God Thief

The Chronicles of Lumineia

Author Bio

Jack of Thieves

By Ben Hale

Table of Contents

The Chronicles of Lumineia

Map of Lumineia

Prologue: Lord Saris

Chapter 1: Hunted

Chapter 2: Invitation

Chapter 3: Morissa

Chapter 4: The Dragon’s Fire

Chapter 5: The Machine

Chapter 6: The Guildmaster

Chapter 7: The Amazon Assignment

Chapter 8: Thalidon

Chapter 9: Forlana

Chapter 10: Secrets of the Evermist

Chapter 11: Stealing a War

Chapter 12: Desired

Chapter 13: Thera’s Secret

Chapter 14: The Assassin Assignment

Chapter 15: The Assassin Guildhall

Chapter 16: Sentinels

Chapter 17: Enmity

Chapter 18: The Smuggler Assignment

Chapter 19: Nightfall Gorge

Chapter 20: The Eye of the Deep

Chapter 21: Shattered Pride

Chapter 22: Into the Gorge

Chapter 23: Reckoning

Chapter 24: Enlisted

Chapter 25: The Gate

Chapter 26: Kuraltus

Chapter 27: Longblade

Chapter 28: The Seeker

Chapter 29: The Elven Assignment

Chapter 30: The Lecherous Prince

Chapter 31: The Hall of Records

Chapter 32: The Queen’s Vault

Chapter 33: Identity

Chapter 34: Nine, Kiki, and Lorth

Chapter 35: Becoming Ten

Chapter 36: The Guild Assignment

Chapter 37: Unmasked

Chapter 38: Trapped in Memory

Chapter 39: The Fallen

Chapter 40: Rayths

Chapter 41: Jack of Thieves

Chapter 42: A Last Promise

Chapter 43: Morissa’s Truth

Epilogue: The Guildmaster’s Secret

Map of Lumineia

world map Amazon.jpg

Prologue: Lord Saris

LORD SARIS EXITED THE tavern and stumbled into the darkened street, righting himself before anyone noticed his state. He blinked against his blurry vision, peering into the shadowed corners of the roadway. When he got his bearings he scowled and straightened, hitching his belt higher around his waist.

Turning away from the Golden Chalice, he strode toward his estate in the northern district of Terros. The laughter from within the gilded tavern faded as he made his way along the road. Although he knew the way, Saris was forced to pause at signs in order to puzzle out where to go. He cursed his guards' absence and swore to himself he would punish them soundly for their error.

He caught a post and steadied himself until his head stopped swirling. Then he noticed a beggar woman. She sat hunched against the wall in a pool of light cast by the flickering fire of the lamp. Her eyes looked at him with pleading, causing a flood of memories to fill him.

His wife, ill and weak, struggling to rise from bed. Her pain had caused her to tremble, and she’d pleaded for him to stay at her side. Her disease had ravaged her body and left her an empty husk, but still she’d begged him to leave the drink behind and serve the people.

Disgusted by the sight of her wasting away, Saris had used every excuse to avoid her sickbed. He’d worked long into the evening, and claimed that meetings in the city occupied his nights. Instead he found a tavern and stayed until his fear and pain had numbed before stumbling home. One night he’d returned to find she had passed on.

He’d known it was coming and been relieved, but a needle of guilt pierced his heart, cutting deep and refusing to fade even after a decade. As Saris stared at the beggar woman the guilt returned, sharp and stabbing, morphing into hatred. He growled and stabbed a finger at her.

Please, my lord, she said, raising her hands. I have so little—

You know better than to come into this district, he snapped. Go, before I summon the guard.

She scurried into the night. Saris watched her go with a heavy-lidded gaze, furious that his walk home had been interrupted, and the memory she’d elicited. Pushing off the post, he turned a corner and ascended to his estate, forcing the thoughts aside.

A smirk crossed his lips as he looked up to the castle atop the hill. It was one of the largest in the district, and looked down upon the wealthy homes of Terros. Upon his father's death, Saris had ordered a wall constructed around the estate and hired more guards. Now a full company patrolled the grounds, ensuring that common folk never entered.

The two men at the guard tower straightened as he trudged up the hill. Winded from the climb, he came to a halt and used the moment to growl at them.

Inform the captain I have returned, and tell him that the men on duty for this evening will see their wages garnished for their absence.

But sir, the lieutenant protested, you ordered them to stay.

He fleetingly recalled the orders he'd given them to stay behind. The meeting at the tavern had been of a sensitive nature, so leaving the guards at the estate had been a necessity. Such common men were as prone to gossip as the trash that lived in the Sticks. Still, he could not admit that he’d forgotten.

Lord Saris straightened to his full stature of five feet. Are you questioning my orders? His voice took a dangerous edge, and the man lowered his gaze.

No, sir.

Lord Saris did not miss the hatred in the soldier's eyes, and resolved to dismiss the man the following day. His scowl deepened as he noticed the same glint in the second man's gaze, and wondered if he could ever find a good servant. His sharp rebuke died on his lips when the ache in his skull stabbed into his eyes.

And summon an attendant to my chambers, he said, all thought of the soldiers gone. Have her draw me a bath.

As you order, the lieutenant said, and signaled another guard.

Saris advanced past the guard and ascended the steps to the castle proper. Another guard opened the door as he reached it. Once inside, Saris grasped the railing and climbed the steps to his private quarters. Another soldier opened the door, and Saris strode past him.

I do not wish to be disturbed, he said.

As you order, the man replied, and shut the door.

Lord Saris breathed a sigh of relief for the solitude, and vowed never to drink so much again. He realized it had become a frequent indulgence, but dismissed that with a jerk of his hand. He was a lord of Griffin, and could partake as he desired. Then he strode to the bathing chamber.

Comprised of four separate rooms, his private quarters were spacious and elegant. A central receiving space allowed him to meet in private with others of his status. A trio of doors opened onto a bathing chamber, a bedroom, and a library.

He stepped into the bathing chamber to find a manservant filling the tub with steaming water. Saris squinted at him and realized he did not know the youth. Barely in his twenties, the servant was tall and slender. His black hair highlighted his dark blue eyes. He looked up and Saris flinched at the predatory look in his eye. By the time Saris recovered the man had bowed, the expression gone.

My Lord, he said, is there anything else you require?

Where are the servant girls? Saris frowned, struggling to recall their names.

Ill, my Lord, the man replied easily. The Steward asked me to take their place.

Saris glared at him, and then gestured to the door. Wait outside in case I have need of you.

As you order, he replied, and drifted out the door.

Once it had clicked shut, Saris removed his clothing and slipped into the tub. He breathed a sigh of relief and reclined his head, annoyed that the manservant's expression lingered in his thoughts. Then he dismissed the image and turned his mind to the conversation in the Golden Chalice.

Six months past, he'd beaten a servant girl for refusing his affection and she'd gone crying to the city guard. Taken alone, the guard would have dismissed the complaint, but added to past grievances it had led to an inquisition. If the blasted girl could prove he'd been improper the inquisitor would require him to pay a significant sum.

He scowled at the potential humiliation. The other lords had assured him the girl had no standing in the court, and without proof her words would fall on empty ears. His tension easing with the warm water, he closed his eyes.

He woke with a shiver. Muttering a curse at the frigid water, he looked to the light orb to find that it had dimmed. Vowing to flay the manservant for allowing the bath to cool, he heaved himself from the tub and dressed. His teeth chattering, he cinched his belt and stepped to the door.

He paused at the clink of coins, the angry shout dying on his lips. Confused, he came to a halt, and then heard it again coming from his study. Fear and anger blossomed within him as he realized a thief had dared enter his home. He eased the door open, his eyes searching the darkness for the manservant.

The receiving chamber was empty and the lights had been dimmed. He heard a shuffle from the library and another clink of metal. His expression darkened and he advanced toward the hall door, intent on calling the guard. He tripped and nearly went down, just managing to catch the curse before it betrayed him. Then he looked to the cause and his expression widened in horror.

The manservant lay on the floor, blood dripping from a dozen wounds. His eyes were open and haunting, as if he had just perished. The brutality of the death shocked Saris, and his fear overpowered his anger. His eyes flicked between the corpse and the library. Then he began to crawl toward the hall, his hands shaking as he reached for the door. The handle refused to budge, and abruptly he realized the thief had locked it to prevent a guard from entering. Swallowing the dryness in his throat, he forced the words from his mouth.

Guard! he hissed. I have need!

No answer came, and he repeated his plea, risking raising his voice in order to be heard. His words seem to reflect off an invisible barrier, echoing into a strange silence. He’d seen muffling charms used in the tribunal halls to silence angry criminals and recognized the magic. Anger filled him as he realized the thief had locked him inside his own chambers and cast a charm to silence his cries. Straightening, Saris gathered his courage and roared for the guards, attempting to shatter the magic by force of will.

To his dismay the soldier just outside the door did not come—but the noise in the library came to an abrupt halt. Terror gripped Saris and he crawled behind a couch, willing his breathing to quiet. His heart battered against his chest like a hammer against a shield and he mentally cursed the betrayal. The silence persisted, building the tension until his hands trembled . . .

A window shattered. He yelped in surprise and clutched his chest. When nothing followed he realized the thief must have fled. Shame filled him, and then rage burned it from his veins. Grasping the couch, he rose to his feet and stomped to the library door, yanking it open.

Books lay strewn on the floor, their pages ripped. Gold and jewelry were missing, and even the gilded brackets for light orbs had been pried from the walls. Then he saw the strongbox. Hidden behind a false section of paneling, it contained his most valuable possessions. Fear exploded through him and he hurried to it. He turned the levers to bring the combination into view and then grasped the lever. It swung open with a creak of steel.

Piles of gold, jewels, and rings looked back at him, as did the signet of his house. Attached to an ornate ring, it sat atop a silver pedestal, untouched. Saris breathed a sigh of relief that the thief had not found it. Then the lights winked out, snuffed like a candle in a gust of wind.

Thank you, my Lord, a voice said from behind him. That was much easier than I expected.

He spun in place but could not make out the thief in the darkness. Take whatever you wish! he cried out.

I intend to, the thief laughed.

The thief brushed past him and in remarkable time cleaned out the strongbox. Saris huddled against the wall, struggling to keep his terror in check.

Sound magic has a reputation for being useless, the thief remarked, his voice mocking, but it keeps guards from hearing their master’s whimpering.

Saris squeaked in surprise. How dare you—

A dagger touched his throat and he swallowed the rest of his words.

Be glad I don't do to you what I did to your manservant, the thief growled.

Saris felt a tug on his hand and screamed, but the thief had merely yanked his ring from his finger. The mocking laugh came again, this time fading as the thief departed. Saris remained against the wall, furious and embarrassed. Then he gathered himself and straightened, roaring for the guards.

Without the thief's muffling curse to stop it, his bellow exploded across the manor. The doors burst open and two soldiers rushed into his chambers, following Saris’s shouts to his library. At their appearance the light orbs brightened, flooding the space with light. The soldiers came to an abrupt halt, aghast at the damage to the room.

My Lord, one said, how did this happen?

Saris screamed at them, unleashing his rage. The glint of humor in their eyes only served to heighten his wrath until he pointed to the door.

OUT! he roared. And take the body with you!

But sir, the second guard said, what body?

Saris stared at him and then stalked into the receiving room. His indignant rage evaporated when he found the body had disappeared. Dumbfounded, Saris stared at the empty floor, struggling to understand what had occurred. Long after the guards had left it dawned on him. The thief hadn't killed the manservant.

He was the manservant.

Chapter 1: Hunted

JACK MYST HUNG OUTSIDE the window, watching Lord Saris gnaw on the truth. His smirk widened and he released his grip. He fell thirty feet but landed with ease. Donning his cloak, he darted between the guards and leapt the wall. Once in the streets he worked his way south.

The city of Terros sprawled across a series of hills and bordered the great Blue Lake. As capital of the Griffin kingdom, the city served as the central port for shipping and commerce. In an effort to deter invasion, the city was divided into districts. The walls that parted the districts had been intended to protect the city, but in reality served to separate the classes.

Saris’s home was in a district dominated by wealthy nobles, lords, and landowners. Much of the stonework was dwarven white granite, giving the district a polished and refined look, as well as its name, White District. Jack had spent many nights prowling the district and knew it well. Still, he never felt comfortable walking its cobblestone streets.

Jack stepped through the gate and left the wealthy district behind. Lacking the lavish trappings of White District, Blue District contained wealthy artisans and craftsmen, and was home to the renowned Stonecutter and Woodcarver guildhalls. Although most of the commerce in the city took place in Gold District, those looking for higher class shops went to Blue.

Jack wound his way past comfortable homes and shops until he reached a square. Elven light orbs hung from wooden poles, illuminating the square and the statue at its center. Eschewing the light, Jack glided through the shadows until he reached a small moneychanger store.

Smaller than the other stores in the square, the Lucky Coin was neat and clean. Through the glass Jack spotted ledgers stacked on shelves next to inkwells and books. He paused when a slight patter of footfalls reached his ears.

A smile crossed his lips and a surge of excitement filled him. It's about time. Then he frowned and quelled the elation. It might just be an assassin or an old target nursing a grudge. He stepped down a side alley that bordered the store. With his enhanced vision he made out the steps descending to a second entrance. Gliding to the basement, he tapped softly on the door. A moment later a raspy voice spoke.

The head of the fox sees much.

While the tail goes unnoticed, Jack replied.

A lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a weathered old man. Scrawny and dressed in craftsman garb, the man offered a curt nod before gesturing Jack inside.

It's late, Arcus said.

You never sleep anyway.

A faint smile cracked the old man's expression. At my age sleep is an inconvenience.

Jack grinned and strode to the desk. The room resembled a library, with shelves of books lining the walls. Light orbs hung from the ceiling, revealing a bright, woven rug that depicted a single coin glinting in the sunlight.

Jack opened his pack and began placing items on the desk. I need to unload and thought you'd like these.

The fence took a seat behind the table and picked up a large diamond. He held it up and examined it critically. Returning it to the pile, he grasped another. He nodded to himself as he returned it. Then Arcus glanced into the open pack.

Is that Lord Saris's signet?

Perhaps.

You know I don't move anything unique, Arcus said. The edge to his voice brought a burly man into the room. Tattooed and scarred, the guard palmed the hilt of a sword. Arcus waved him aside.

The signet is not for you, Jack said. When he didn't elaborate, Arcus shrugged.

I'm surprised you didn't take more from him.

Too much to carry in one load, Jack admitted. I stashed some in his house that I'll pick up later.

Arcus chuckled. You are the most forthcoming thief I work with, Jack. You should be in the guild.

How much for the lot? he asked, avoiding the topic.

Arcus folded his spindly arms. Fifty gold.

Jack’s expression became annoyed and he let the silence hang. After a moment Arcus growled and shook his head.

It will be difficult to move quickly, Jack, you know that. Steal from a lord and I can't give you full rate. They keep track of their jewels too closely—even magically tag them.

Jack continued to stare until the old man grumbled under his breath and stabbed a finger at the pile.

Sixty-five.

Seventy.

They locked eyes for a moment until Arcus relented. Fifty now, twenty more when they are sold.

Done.

Arcus whisked the gold off the table and into one of the many strongboxes that lined the wall. I'll deposit the coin into your account as usual.

Jack heard the smugness in the fence's voice and realized he'd given in too early, but found that he didn’t care. He'd spent months preparing to steal from Saris but this time the reward was not in the coin.

Until next time, Arcus, he said, and stepped to the door.

The man gestured to him. Watch yourself, Jack. Stealing from a lord may garner more attention than you desire.

Or exactly the attention I want.

Jack smirked. I can take care of myself.

He slipped outside and ascended the stairs. When he reached the street he heard another echo of footfalls. He smiled to himself but did not look back. Whoever followed him had been trained well but couldn’t know he had enhanced hearing.

He turned south and moved through the quiet streets of Terros. It was the dead of night, but groups of guards occasionally appeared and ambled past him. Giving them a wide berth, he stayed in Blue District until he reached the gate for Gold District. As the central place of commerce in the city, the district contained many people working late or enjoying the various entertainments.

Light cascaded from windows as shopkeepers tallied their earnings from the day. Laughter and music filtered from the interior of raucous taverns. Avoiding the crowds and the inevitable guards tasked with watching them, he dodged to a quiet street. Once there, Jack undid the clasp of his cloak and allowed it to flow behind him, revealing clothing more suited to a merchant than a thief.

His tunic was of fine cloth and deep blue, pairing well with the black slacks. A strap of leather across his shoulder went to his waist and held a brace of knives hidden behind an artistic strip of green. Another blade lay hidden in a sheath that ran along his spine. The hilt pointed down, allowing for a subtle draw.

He could have passed for a merchant except for his youth. At twenty-three he looked much younger. His lips betrayed a touch of arrogance, but his striking features drew the gaze of the women he passed. Aware of their scrutiny Jack glanced their way, enjoying the flush that crept into their skin when he smiled.

Several times he heard the faint echoes of his pursuer but did not deviate from his course, even when he heard a second hunter. He reached the edge of Gold District and passed into the largest district in Terros. Although its official name was South District, everyone called it the Sticks.

Dilapidated structures leaned at unsettling angles, covered in grime from their proximity to the Factory District. The streets contained runoff from the upper districts, the soiled water trickling down the gutters that bordered the road. The liquid added a perpetual reek that lingered on buildings and clothes alike.

Merchants, craftsmen, and soldiers entered the Sticks for business, but avoided it when possible. Thieves were common among the poor, and many of the visitors had seen their purse strings cut. Few of the thieves were guild trained. Those unfortunate enough to be caught were hanged on the hill at the center of the district, their bodies left as a reminder to the populace.

Again wrapped in his cloak, Jack turned down a side street until he reached a two-story structure. The building contained a shop on the ground floor and a home above. The glass had been broken often, so the owner had installed makeshift bars across the openings. Jack passed by and entered the alley at the side.

Crouching, he leapt ten feet up the side and caught a brick that bordered a window. Levering himself up, he climbed inside and glided toward the bed. A young woman huddled under a thin blanket. It was a far cry from her previous home, where she'd been a servant of Lord Saris until recent events brought about her dismissal. Four months ago Jack had overheard her speaking in a tavern and recognized the opportunity. The next day he'd begun seeking employment at Lord Saris's estate.

He reached into his pack and withdrew the signet. He placed the ring with a letter of explanation on the nightstand and withdrew. Jack smiled as he thought of Saris's expression when this servant girl appeared with proof of his affection. The bulge of his eyes, the veins popping in his thick neck—the man would explode like a dwarven fire bomb. It would be worth attending the inquisition just to see his reaction.

He slipped out the window and ascended to the roof. Reaching the top, he jumped to a neighboring building and continued southwest, leaping from structure to structure. He picked up the pace, measuring the response from his pursuers. They matched it, indicating they knew he'd sensed their presence. With difficulty, he reigned in his excitement.

It might not be them.

As he led his pursuers across the rooftops, Jack followed a circuitous route to his target. After twenty minutes he dropped to the street and entered one of the many parks that dotted the city. Unkempt and overgrown, this one had become a haven for criminals and the homeless. Prowlers lurked in the bushes, hoping against all reason that a catch would amble through. He ignored them and strode to the center of the park.

A broken fountain depicted a knight bearing a shield and giant sword. In distant memory enchanted water had flowed about its feet, rising up to give the statue a more lifelike appearance. The magic had long since faded and the stone had worn down until the knight looked tired and old.

Around the statue oak trees grew, their branches intertwining. Thick and gnarled, they blocked the moon except for a pool of light that fell upon the statue. The air reeked of the Sticks, and the rustle of rodents marred the still night.

Jack came to a halt at the edge of shadow, his gaze searching the trees as he plotted multiple escape routes. It had taken six years to get here, and if he did not play the part well they would kill him.

It was also possible they could be assassins sent by one of his past targets. If that was the case, he'd placed himself in a trap. He frowned, considering that possibility and how he could respond. As much as he'd sought to develop his thieving skills, he'd lacked the time to study swordcraft. Magic from his youth had permanently enhanced his body, but assassins would undoubtedly possess their own advantages.

A rasp of cloth on bark indicated the approach of his pursuers. He tensed, waiting as he tracked their movements. One appeared in front of him while a second came from the east. Then he heard a third figure approaching from the west. They stepped into the pool of moonlight, blocking him on three sides.

His gaze flicked between the men and the woman. All three were dressed in fine clothing and their cloaks rippled as if made of shadows. Each appeared unarmed, but Jack doubted that was the case. The man in the center folded his arms and smiled.

Jack Myst, he drawled, wanted in several cities across four kingdoms for bribery, theft, damage of property, inciting a riot, and dozens of other offenses.

I don't care to be tracked.

The man peaked an eyebrow. And stealing from Lord Saris?

Another noble that needs humbling, Jack said with a shrug. What do you care?

We've been observing you for some time, the man said. We know much of what you have done in the last year.

Jack retreated a step, deeper into the darkness. If it's recompense you seek, I have sold what I have taken.

And if we’re here to kill you? the man asked, his head tilting forward in anticipation.

Jack smiled in turn. You would have to catch me first.

He whirled and leapt, catching a branch of an oak tree. He pulled himself above it and jumped to another limb before sprinting away. In his wake he heard the man speak to the woman.

Beauty, run him down.

Chapter 2: Invitation

JACK BOUNDED BETWEEN trees, using the branches to swing over gaps. He was curious about his pursuers so he kept his pace slow. To his surprise Beauty kept pace with him—and even closed the gap. Although she stayed on the ground she had no trouble following his track. He reached the edge of the garden and leapt into the street.

Beauty burst from the trees behind him and aimed a small crossbow at him. He leapt to the side as she fired. The bolt exploded into enchanted ropes and crashed into a wall. He looked back and smirked.

You missed.

His laugh echoed across the street, and he was rewarded by her curse. She reloaded but he had already darted down an alley. The darkness swallowed him, but his night vision kept him from stumbling.

He spotted a tree between a pair of buildings and caught one of the branches. Levering himself, he leapt twenty feet and caught the roof of one of the buildings. As he ascended to the top he glanced back and saw Beauty following his route. She leapt the gap as he did, and even landed atop the roof, suggesting enhanced strength as well.

You are a fool if you think you can escape me, she growled.

With a lady as strong as you, I'd be a fool not to try.

He looked back as he leapt to another building. Tall and slender, the woman had black hair and striking features. She appeared close to his age yet moved with experience and skill. Her sinuous form was distracting in such a setting. In the last few minutes she'd demonstrated strength, speed, agility, and increased vision. The combination of magics suggested one thing.

Barbarian.

He stepped off a roof and slid down the angle before leaping at the edge. The next building was a shop with the sign jutting out above the door. Snagging the wood, he scaled to the roof and kept running. He glanced back again, pleased and annoyed that Beauty kept pace.

I never realized barbarian women chase their men, Jack called. She cursed his name, causing him to laugh.

Which tribe are you from? she shot back.

He slid to a halt and faced her. "Do you see body magic in me?"

She also halted abruptly, her green eyes flicking over his body before narrowing in confusion. No.

I hope you enjoyed the look, Jack said, and then stepped off the roof.

He fell ten feet and caught the top of a window, swinging himself into the interior of a house. Darting over a bed and the woman sleeping in it, he turned down the hall as Beauty catapulted into the room. He turned a corner and then entered a second bedroom, this one occupied by a man hunched over a desk.

By Ero's staff! the man cried as Jack sped past him.

My apologies, Jack said and dived through the window.

Jack heard his squeak of surprise as Beauty streaked past him. Then Jack landed on the ground and sprinted north, weaving through alleys, streets, and gardens.

She accelerated after him, gaining with every stride. Recognizing he could not outrun her while she used a speed spell, Jack leapt atop a wagon and returned to the rooftops. Just as he alighted he heard the twinge of a crossbow—and dived forward.

A crossbow bolt streaked by him, grazing his shoulder. It struck the chimney in front of him and erupted into a cloud of smoke. Coughing, he stumbled through it and exited to find Beauty climbing into view. She drew a curved blade and stalked forward.

On instinct he reached to his spine and drew his dagger, flicking it up to knock her blade aside. She rotated back, using the curve of her blade to sneak past his guard and nick his side. He grunted and struck, swinging his dagger toward her shoulder. She withdrew with ease.

You missed, she said sweetly.

He grunted in irritation and pulled a throwing dagger. With a flick of his wrist he sent it spinning toward her. She knocked it aside, and Jack used the distraction to dive back into the smoke. Holding his breath, he changed direction and darted north. Bursting from the smoke he leapt to a roof of a lower building.

Bounding across the rooftops, he used his agility to dive and weave his way between chimneys and the occasional clothesline. The barriers prevented her from using her crossbow, but did little to slow her pursuit.

His path took him toward the district wall. As he neared the towering barrier he spotted a channel of water curving against its base. Beams extended out from the wall and held orbs of light that illuminated the canal and the neighboring road. In most districts the wall lights were well maintained, but here they were dim or dark.

Do you always corner your men? he called over his shoulder. Or just the ones you favor?

Just the ones I want to kill, she shot back.

He slid to a stop and spun to face her. She came to a stop as well, her curved blade in one hand with the small hand crossbow in the other.

Is that your purpose? he asked.

If it wasn't before, it is now.

I'm sorry to disappoint, then, he said.

He grinned and whirled, leaping out to a flagpole that rose above the street. Touching one foot on the top, he threw himself over the canal to catch one of the beams extending from the wall. His body swung forward and he burned off his momentum by running up the stone. Then he flipped onto the beam and crouched. He turned to find that she had not moved.

What is the source of your magic, thief? she called out.

You expect me to tell on the first engagement? he asked. I doubt you would be as forthcoming.

She released an annoyed sigh. We are just here to talk.

He stood and leaned against the wall of his perch, the languid pose demonstrating his doubt. Then talk.

Her gaze flicked to the side and a smile crossed her lips. I hope you enjoy the fall.

The twang of a crossbow touched his ears, and before he could react a crossbow bolt hit his side. Rather than pierce his flesh, it exploded into enchanted ropes that bound him.

He cursed as it pulled him free and he plummeted into the canal below. The cool water crashed over him, the current dragging him east. The air in his lungs drove him to the surface, where he managed to rip an arm free. By the time he'd disentangled himself and reached the road, the trio stood before him once more. This time Beauty and the second man held naked blades in their hands.

I'll have to burn these clothes, you know, he said, his nose wrinkled in disgust. I'm sure you know the reek never fades.

Even trapped you are defiant, the center man said, I must say we picked well.

I don't like him, Beauty said, and sniffed. He has no respect.

The second man issued a rumbling laugh. I dare say he got under her skin, Slyver. How many have managed to do that?

She threw him a scathing look. Careful, Brolan, she said, her tone like poisoned honey, or you might wake to find a dagger in your ribs.

Brolan grinned. Careful yourself, Beauty, or the others might think you have lost yourself over Jack.

Jack folded his arms. Whatever your business, speak it and be done with it.

Slyver gestured to Jack's pack. You stole Saris's signet and gave it to a peasant girl. Why?

Jack grinned, once again imagining Saris when the girl revealed it at the inquisition. Watching a Lord squirm is its own reward.

As you say, Brolan said with a hearty laugh, and sheathed his sword. Reluctantly Beauty returned the curving dagger to her back.

We hail from the Thieves Guild, Slyver said, and come to invite you to join our ranks.

And give your guild part of my earnings? Jack issued a grunt of disapproval. I have no need of you.

Your skills are impressive, Slyver said. I'll give you that. But with the guild you could do so much more. A few baubles from a Lord cannot compare to the treasures we steal. Besides, every thief knows the inevitability of getting caught, and without aid from the guild their fate is the same.

He gestured to the hill where the bodies of thieves dangled. With the soft breeze, the corpses swayed in the moonlight. Jack frowned at the reminder.

I always escape before the hanging, he said.

Perhaps, Slyver said, but it only has to happen once.

Jack could not refute that, so he folded his arms. What do you want?

"In fifteen days you will meet us at the Dragon's Fire tavern in Herosian. From there you will be guided to the guild, where you can make the attempt to join us."

Attempt? Jack asked. Is this not an invitation to join the guild?

Slyver jerked his head. All hopefuls endure a trial, he said. It separates the ones with talent from those . . . less talented.

I hope the Machine tears you apart, Beauty muttered.

Brolan grinned. Five gold says he reaches level two on his first attempt.

Ten, Beauty snapped. And another ten he comes out maimed.

The banter provided Jack a hint of the Machine he would face, and the caliber of the thieves. Ten gold was a fortune in the Sticks, and a week's wages for a merchant in the Gold District. To bet the amount so easily suggested they had coin to spare.

I'll consider it, Jack said.

We will not extend an invitation a second time, Slyver said, his voice gaining an edge. And if you are not part of the guild, we might one day become foes. You can be certain that is a future you do not wish to experience.

Join the guild, Brolan said. Trust me on that.

Trust is not a currency I spend easily, Jack said.

Brolan shrugged and turned away. Then I hope we don't meet on a rooftop someday. I'd hate to kill you.

The retort died on Jack's lips when Brolan evaporated into the night. The speed of his disappearance made Jack doubt his success in an engagement with the man. Beauty grinned at him.

I hope you do come, she said. But only so I can witness your death on the Machine.

Her voice had changed to inviting, with no trace of her previous animosity. Adept at deception, stealth, and magic, the woman was more dangerous than she appeared.

You already examined my body, Jack replied easily. But I suppose I can permit you a second look.

His words earned a scowl before she too disappeared. Alone on the dark street, Slyver inclined his head to him.

Fifteen days, Jack. Don't be late.

Slyver withdrew into the shadows, leaving Jack to his thoughts. He stared after them until a breeze cut across the street, chilling his wet clothing. Frowning, he removed his cloak and tossed it away. Then he strode north toward a stash he maintained in the Sticks.

As he left the pool of light, a smile crossed his face before it tightened with anger. He'd spent six years cultivating a persona the thieves would want, and now that the invitation had come he struggled to contain the simmering rage. Once he’d joined the guild he had three men to find.

And three men to kill.

Chapter 3: Morissa

AFTER YEARS OF EXPECTATION, Jack could not bring himself to sit idle. He caught a ship south the next morning. As he boarded he overheard a pair of sailors talking about a girl that had showed up with a Lord’s signet ring. As they loaded crates on the vessel the men shared a laugh at Saris's expense. Jack grinned, and gave an approving nod to the girl's haste.

It was always possible that Lord Saris would claim the signet had been stolen, but that would require him to admit his vaunted house had been breached. Doing so would be a veritable invitation to thieves throughout the city. His house would be stalked from every angle while the Lord's enemies laughed at his embarrassment. As much consternation as paying the girl would cause, it would still be a preferable outcome.

The captain caught Jack’s eye and strode to him. Count Telen, he said, and inclined his head. I have had a bunk prepared for you, as you requested.

Excellent, Jack said. And as we discussed, I'm staying with a relative, Lord Saris, at the moment. Please ensure the charge for my passage is sent to him.

As you order, your Grace.

You have my gratitude, Captain, Jack replied. My belongings are on the dock.

I'll have them taken to your quarters.

Jack nodded and strode to the steps, his thoughts on his persona. It was only the second time Jack had used the Count, but he found the man an appealing cloak to wear. Few bothered to look into a minor lord from a rural community, but they still gave deference as if he were a high duke of Terros.

His youth counted against him when wearing a persona of rank, but Jack had long since learned that confidence was the best currency. Act and dress like a lord and few questions were asked. He just had to ensure he wasn’t too memorable.

He stepped into his quarters to find them small and neat, but it was obvious the previous passenger had been seasick. An effort had been made to clean the vomit from the floor but the scent lingered. Ignoring it, he flopped onto the bunk and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts shifting to the thieves. A moment later a deckhand brought him his luggage.

His features relaxed into those of Count Telen and he rose to greet the man. Accepting a copper of gratitude, the man retreated, and Jack returned to his brooding. It had been six years since the thieves had come to his home and killed everything he’d cared about. Three thieves had escaped the carnage that night, and now Jack would have the chance to find them.

Nemeth, Kuraltus, Shelt.

The names were branded onto his mind. He'd been homeless and angry for the first two years, and food had been the first thing he'd taken. His talents made thieving easy, and he'd absorbed everything the street had to teach. He'd learned to pick locks, wear a persona like a cowl, and embrace darkness like an old friend. Then he’d set about garnering the guild's attention.

With a sigh he rose. As much as he would have liked to sit and ponder the past, he had appearances to keep up. Changing into clothing more suitable for travel on a ship, he exited his cabin and ascended to the deck to watch them set sail. As it was a passenger ship, it carried an abundance of guests. Most were at least moderately wealthy, and he identified a pair of women with superfluous coin.

Donning a disarming smile, he approached and engaged them in conversation. By the end of the day he knew every piece of gold in their possession, but waited until the final night of the voyage to steal a handful of coins. As much as he would have enjoyed taking everything, he liked Count Telen too much to burn him so easily.

A week after departing Terros the ship slid into port at Doranith, a small port city of Talinor. Jack descended the gangplank and strode toward the stables. He could have taken a coach but had no desire for the slow place.

Neat and orderly, the village demonstrated all the trademarks of a Talinor settlement. Where Griffin's buildings had been flecked with grime, the buildings of Doranith were painted white, blue, and a shimmering green. Tile roofs contained a red that reflected the midday sun, making them appear even brighter. Even the poorer homes contained new thatch, the straw cut less than a year ago.

Jack entered to find the stables clean, the steeds well groomed. The scent of new straw filled his nostrils, mingling with the distinct smell of horses. He spotted the stablemaster and strode to the man's desk.

I need a horse to Herosian.

It's a four-day ride, the man replied without looking up from his work. Five gold buys you a horse, eight gets you a fast one. Return it to the stables in the capital and we'll buy it back from you.

Jack retrieved eight coins he'd taken from the ladies and placed them on the counter. His gaze still on his papers, the stablemaster gestured toward the youth standing at the side of the room. The boy sprinted into the stables and returned with a roan stallion bearing a patch of white across the flank. Jack nodded in approval and flipped the boy a copper piece. Then he tied his pack behind the saddle and mounted.

Watch yourself on the road, the boy said. A few caravans have been attacked by thieves.

Jack grinned at the warning. I'll manage.

Pulling on the reins, he angled onto the road and accelerated once he reached the edge of town. The horse seemed eager, so Jack let him set the pace and relaxed into the saddle. After a week trapped on a ship with nobles, it was a relief to be free.

The sun brightened as he rode through the hills that marked the northern bank of Talinor. Patches of poplar and cedar dotted the slopes but had been trimmed back from the road to prevent brigands from ambushing travelers.

The gravel road formed the shortest route for passengers to reach Herosian from the port, and Jack passed a number of merchants and coaches throughout the afternoon. As night fell he reached an inn and paid for a room. Usually he preferred to sleep late, but dawn found him wending his way out of the foothills and into the plains.

A patrol of the legendary Talinor cavalry approached from behind and slowed to question him. Jack responded to their queries with a wide-eyed smile. His persona of a youth from Griffin traveling to work in Talinor worked wonders. The captain even gave him a few coins. Jack accepted them with a smile, amused at the man’s ignorance that he was a wanted fugitive in Talinor.

Jack reached Herosian earlier than expected, so he left his horse with the stablemaster near the north entrance to the city. Then he made his way south through the packed streets of the capital and pushed into the merchant district.

Formed like a misshaped circle, Herosian contained streams and canals that crisscrossed the city. Small boats provided quick transportation for goods and passengers while keeping the main roads free of wagons.

A sprawling castle stood at Herosian’s heart. Unlike the castle at Terros, this had been built with an eye for defense. High walls were interspersed with strategic towers and overlooks. Dwarven-made ballistae dotted the battlements, allowing the King's Guard to fire enormous bolts halfway across the city. Many considered it the strongest fortress in either of the human kingdoms.

Jack had spent a year in the city and knew it well. Unfortunately, he'd been caught—twice—so his face was known by some of the guards. He'd grown since then and his attire had improved significantly. Still, Jack kept a wary eye out for anyone that might recognize him. He could have kept the horse, but it would have drawn too much attention. Instead he wound his way through the crowd, feigning a passing interest in the wares on either side.

Shops lined the road, their windows filled with merchandise. Patrons bustled within, purchasing food or ordering goods for business. Cured meats were a primary export of Talinor, as were grains and other produce. With the largest tracts of arable land in any kingdom, Talinor grew half the food consumed by all the kingdoms.

Jack stopped to purchase a meal and then continued on until he reached the Dancer's Square. Aptly named, the square was bordered on all sides by dance halls, taverns, and other forms of entertainment. With a score of Talinor soldiers patrolling the area, thieves and less savory characters were absent.

A dancing statue occupied the focus of the broad square. The stone woman twisted and turned, swirling her skirt in a perpetual dance. Musicians and tradesmen occupied the space around the statue, filling the air with their melodies. Giant trees grew throughout the square, their canopies so thick they shaded the crowd.

Jack skirted the revelers and entered The Regal Knight. One gold per night was expensive, but the inn provided something the others did not. He ascended to his room and entered. Then he strode to the window and slipped onto the roof.

Steeped in shadow cast by one of the great trees, the space was invisible from below. Jack leapt to one of the branches and cautiously advanced to the heart of the tree. There he came to his stash.

The trunk of the tree had been enchanted when it was a seed, leading it to grow beyond normal proportions. Doing so had left a hollow in the trunk as large as a small room. Shrouded behind thousands of branches, the hide was further obscured by a cloth Jack had purchased. Resembling the wood on which it hung, the barrier made the stash invisible even if someone managed to climb the tree.

He glanced back, pleased that he could still catch a glimpse of the room he'd paid for. Most thieves kept their stashes in places devoid of traffic, making them easier to access. Jack preferred to hide his things where no one would look.

Jack entered his hide and tossed his cloak aside. After days of travel it was a relief to remove the trappings of others and reclaim himself. He sighed and sank onto the small bed before picking up a memory orb ensconced in a section of wood. He touched a finger to it and it brightened, revealing a smiling woman.

Short and petite, the woman wore her dark hair short and tied back. She appeared pretty yet unremarkable—except for the force to her gaze. At the same time arresting and full of humor, her eyes could not be forgotten.

The memory orb had captured her as she’d turned toward Jack during a hunt. Light beamed through a break in the tees to fall upon her leaning against a tree, shining across the surprise and delight in her face. Her name was Morissa, but Jack had known her by another name.

Mother.

They've invited me to join the guild, he murmured.

The orb did not respond, and he wished again that he'd had the extra coin to buy one imbued with sound as well as light. He'd been young then, and had thought he'd have plenty of time to make another. The thieves had killed her before he could. He reclined on the bed and listened to the sounds of music wafting into his hide. It reminded him of his mother singing as she toiled in the kitchen, and he lifted the orb to see her face reflected back at him. In the background of the image he could just make out the head of a panther lying on the porch.

He sighed, his thoughts drifting to Shadero. Jack had inherited animal magic from his father, and at the summoning the great cat had come. As happened in many druid companionships, the joining caused a transference of talents. Shadero’s mind had been augmented, while Jack’s body had gained the physical attributes of the panther. Then the thieves had come for his mother, and his cat had given his life to save Jack.

Jack sensed his panther side stirring in the furthest corners of his mind. Animal and powerful, it rarely surfaced, but it granted a permanent augmentation to Jack’s faculties. It was the gift of a dying brother, the supreme sacrifice of an eternal companion. Jack flexed his fingers, feeling the might running through his veins. It brought a bitter smile to his face.

No gift is worth your absence, he murmured.

He felt a stab of guilt and thought of his mother’s final words. Do not be what I became, Jack. Swear to me you will never be a thief.

Once they’re dead I will leave the guild, he said. I promise.

His mother stared back at him, her expression somehow sad. Jack sighed and placed the memory orb back in its recess. She hadn’t wanted him to become a thief, but she’d said nothing about punishing those that had killed her. Thief or not, he was still a predator.

And every predator had its prey.

Chapter 4: The Dragon’s Fire

JACK SLEPT UNTIL LIGHT found a hole in the canopy and warmed his eyelids. With a groan he rose and extricated himself from his hide. With great caution he entered his room in the inn, scanning it for potential threats. It was possible the Thieves Guild had someone watching him, but he doubted they would watch his room. Gathering his gear, he exited the room and descended to the square.

Much quieter than the previous night, the grounds lay empty except for those who'd succumbed to the revelry. Passing the unconscious forms, he wound his way south through the city. It was well into the morning, and soldiers and businessmen dominated the crowd. While the former patrolled the streets in search of wastrels and drunks, the latter prepared for the day.

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted across the road as Jack passed a bakery. He swiped a roll from the cart when the man turned away. A moment later he snagged a wedge of cheese from a shop around the corner. Munching on his morning meal, he passed a tannery, and the sounds of shouting workmen mingled with those of the machines.

A granary sat next to it, and the rumble of stone grinding wheat echoed from the interior. Jack soon left the merchant district behind and the savory scents with it. He turned a corner and shivered when a blast of frigid air passed across him. He glanced up to see a pair of elves through the window, using their magic to freeze water into ice. Water mages were highly prized for their ability to freeze foodstuffs. The guild in Azertorn maintained a presence in nearly every major city, its mages profiting off those who had the gold to pay. Passing through the chill, Jack turned down a side street and entered the Depths.

Forming much of the southeastern corner of the city, the Depths were built within a large depression in the earth. Most of the streams and canals that brightened the upper steppes flowed into the Depths, their waters now polluted and dark.

Previous kings of Talinor had made an effort to repair the Depths and attract honorable business. For a few years it worked, but the area inevitably darkened like an apple left to rot in the sun.

Inns and taverns were well-built, but the clientele had been hard on them. Many windows were boarded up, the buildings' owners too poor to replace them with fine glass. Although soldiers still patrolled the Depths, they tended to visit less frequently, and only during the day.

Jack stepped into the shadows to let a group of men and women pass by. Rowdy and staggering, their appearance indicated they had been out all night. Most were offspring of lords and counts that had occupied themselves in the less savory entertainments of the Depths. Such festivities were not condoned by the nobles yet rarely stopped. As much as the upper class of Talinor prided itself on the appearance of propriety, nearly all had enjoyed the Depths in their youth.

Jack exited the alley as the group passed and slid into a gap next to the stragglers. With nimble fingers he cut the purse strings of a youth. He vaguely recognized him as Lord Uribal's son. The boy had taken after his father in both looks and tastes, and his purse was light after a night of debauchery. Jack smiled as he pocketed the coin and then turned away. As the laughter from the group faded, he continued on his way until he reached the appointed meeting place.

The Dragon's Fire boasted a stone foundation topped with vaulted beams, but time and weather had robbed it of any elegance. Layers of grime prevented light from penetrating the interior, while rot spotted the wood. The stones had lost their luster, and Jack doubted even magic could clean them.

He'd heard of the tavern, of course, but had avoided it for its reputation. It was known as a favorite among Thieves Guild members. With so much at stake, Jack had wanted the guild to come to him, not the other way around. Otherwise his motivations might have been suspect.

Jack crossed the street and entered the establishment. He coughed at the reek, and hoped the Thieves Guildhall was in better condition. Then he advanced toward a booth against the wall and took a seat. As he waited for the barmaid, he surveyed the crowd.

Only a handful of patrons sat in the tavern. Several in a corner were locked in quiet conversation, while one man lay slumped on a table. His form was so still Jack briefly wondered if he was dead. Then the man snored and shifted.

The barmaid approached and Jack dropped coins on the table for a meal. When it came the food was better than he expected, and he ate the bread and fried potatoes while continuing to survey the patrons. Over the next hour it became apparent that more hopefuls had decided to come early, with more than a dozen stepping through the door.

He idly watched them, picking out a few that might be worth notice. The loudest of the group was Talinorian. He laughed frequently and sought to engage others in conversation. Rather than friendly, his effort seemed forced, as if he were terrified of what was to come. Jack noticed the calluses on his hands and marked him as a former soldier.

The youngest of the group couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and her red hair was dirty as if she’d spent a lot of time on the road. Dressed in dark, form-fitting pants and a tunic, she seemed out of place in the tavern. Then he spotted the distinct lock-picking calluses on her fingers. She noticed his scrutiny and matched his gaze.

As the crowd thickened, Jack left and leapt to the roof. From within the shadow cast by the chimney he watched the road. Just as the sun touched the horizon Slyver appeared in the street. As before, Beauty and Brolan followed.

Jack slipped from the roof and entered a side door, leaning against the wall just as Slyver shouldered his way into the tavern. At his entrance the group fell silent. He smiled and surveyed them with a critical eye.

Brolan, he said, check for listeners.

The burly man cupped