The Thief's Guild
by Jake Kerr.
Episode 6:
Allard.
Raylan set a brisk pace down the hallway as he struggled to figure out whether he was
angry, scared, or thrilled.
He reached the top of the staircase and paused. What was he to do next?
He had to find his new quarters, which were presumably in the basement, but what
about his future? Could he walk the streets openly like Pietro?
Would the people see him as a symbol and not an actual thief?
Or would he be hated by everyone, a target for abuse and anger?
He also considered that this could turn out to be the best possible result for
him. He wouldn't have to worry about harvesting the crops, or smelting iron,
or keeping accounts, or guarding the wall.
He could just wander the city like old Pietro.
The final thought made Raylan smile.
He was thinking that his brother may have unintentionally done him a favor.
Of course, that didn't include the Founder's Day parade.
Some people took the ritual punishment of the thieves a bit too seriously, and Pietro
had been injured several times.
In the end, he didn't have much choice,
so he started down the steps, wondering where Guildmaster Pietro had
lived.
Larsen had said that his quarters would be in the basement, but that could have just
been another way for him to humiliate Raylan.
Still, the thieves were the only guild without a tower, and Raylan
wasn't sure where Guildmaster Pietro lived.
He only saw him at the parade and a few times in the market district.
It was possible, however, that Pietro lived in the merchant tower.
It was huge, with plenty of ways in and out of the various attached
buildings. Plus, Raylan did remember hearing once that Pietro
lived under the sufferance of the Merchant Guild.
He figured that the guard on duty would know, so he hurried down the final steps
and approached the guard watching the front doors.
It was Essil, who glared at Raylan coldly as he approached.
Excuse me, uh, Essil, but can you tell me where Guildmaster Pietro's quarters are?
Guildmaster Pietro left this world two days ago.
Raylan bowed his head, figuring that respect would get him further than
demands.
Essil frowned. He didn't seem disturbed by the news.
Ah. Yes, I'd heard that. I was wondering where his living quarters are.
Looking to steal from the dead, are we?
Essil walked toward him, placing his hand on the pommel of his sword.
You wear the brown and think that puts you outside the reach of the guilds.
He slid his sword out a few inches.
But it doesn't. It makes you less than all of them. We could all crush you (snaps fingers) like that.
Essil shoved his sword back into its sheath, a sharp clang when the pommel
hit the metal lip, underscoring his threat.
Raylan would normally have slunk away.
He had felt the flat of Essil's sword on his back and legs enough times to
know not to provoke him. But things were different now, and he needed to learn
more about his new position. He couldn't afford to let Essil bully
him around when he needed answers. And besides, he was a
guildmaster now.
You should watch yourself, Essil.
Raylan stood tall and squinted at the armed guildsman.
I won't be wearing brown much longer.
Essil threw back his head and laughed.
(laughs) Did your brother finally get you a position cleaning manure?
As quickly as he had laughed, his face went cold and he unsheathed his
sword.
I don't care what color you'll be wearing.
You'll never be anything more than a pathetic insect.
He raised his sword.
Enough.
A deep, booming voice from the staircase behind them echoed through the entry.
It was a voice used to giving commands and used to having them followed.
Essil lowered his sword, and Raylan turned.
A tall figure in a flowing black robe, his face lost in the shadows of the hood,
stood with his arms crossed.
This is not your business, Allard,
Essil said, but his voice was weak and tentative in the face of the visitor.
The figure said nothing, but approached with deliberate steps.
He stopped in front of Essil.
It is Deputy Allard, merchant.
Essil slouched and the man in black kicked his sword, which had dropped down and was
pointing to the floor.
Now put your toy away before I beat you with it.
The man pointed at Raylan.
And don't ever speak that way to the guildmaster again.
His voice sounded like a clenched fist.
Guildmaster.
The man put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Do I need to tell you again?
Essil scrambled back, sheathing his sword.
He turned and returned to his position near the great wooden doors, mumbling as
he went.
Allard reached up and tossed the hood of his robe back.
His skin and eyes were a dark brown, almost black.
He was bald, which made telling his age difficult.
He had some wrinkles, but not enough to mark him as ancient.
His smooth pate was interrupted by a thick scar that ran from the top of his
head down to his left eyebrow.
His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned down in a slight frown.
Raylan wasn't sure he had ever met a more intimidating man in his life.
I'm sorry I was not present at your meeting with the guildmaster merchant, sir.
He folded his arms across his chest and stood up straight.
It seems that they neglected to inform me of it.
... he smiled and his face was transformed.
His eyes sparkled, and his face glowed with kindness.
"You are my deputy?" Raylan asked, not quite believing what he was seeing.
"Indeed, I am." The smile remained. "I'm pleased to
meet you, Deputy Allard."
Raylan grinned and made one of his rare bows.
The deputy nodded in return, but otherwise didn't move.
"Larsen mentioned that Guildmaster Pietro lived in this tower.
Is that true?" "Did you mean Guildmaster Larsen?" The deputy's
smile faded a bit. Raylan immediately understood his lapse in
respect, and he appreciated Allard's understated correction.
"I'm sorry. Yes, I meant Guildmaster Larsen."
Allard nodded. "Indeed, sir. The guild quarters are in the basement of the north
wing." That was where the kitchen and various service personnel lived and worked.
Raylan had never even been there. "I didn't even know the guild had a basement," Raylan
replied, more to himself than to Allard.
"The north wing is the only part of the tower with a basement, and it is rarely used."
"Can you take me there?" "As you command, sir." Allard pulled the hood over his
head and started walking to the east, where a number of hallways from various
wings of the building merged.
Raylan still couldn't quite believe what was happening, but every time he rubbed his
eyes, the tall, ominous man in the black robe was still there.
It was hard to keep up with Allard's brisk pace, and the fact that each step jarred
Raylan's aching head only made things worse.
They turned down the hallway that led to the north wing and the kitchens.
Just inside the archway that marked the entrance to the north wing was a wooden door to the
left. It looked like a closet. It was unlocked, and Allard
pulled it open and stepped aside, motioning for Raylan to enter first.
Raylan shook his head. "This is all new to me.
Please lead the way."
Allard nodded, but said nothing.
Raylan followed him through the door, which opened to cramped and rough-hewn stone
steps leading down. The stairway was well-lit with torches, and the floor
and walls were dry.
There were bits of wood and paper in the corners of each step, although it wasn't very dusty.
It looked clean, just unkempt. Their footsteps echoed against the walls in the
quiet. It didn't feel like the enforced quiet you experienced in a church or a
library. Rather, the walls were so close that Raylan felt like he had to
keep his voice down to avoid having it echo.
The quiet walk to the quarters did have a certain solemnity about it, and it
reminded Raylan of the old guild master.
"I'm sorry about Guildmaster Pietro." Allard stopped and turned to face
him. He was on a lower step, and yet his face was still above Raylan's.
He stood motionless for a moment, his face lost in the shadows of his hood before
replying, "That was very kind of you, sir, and I thank you for saying so.
He was one of the greatest of the guildmaster thieves." "I'm not sure I even understand what that
means, to be honest, Allard." Allard leaned close, and for a second, Raylan thought that he
had angered him. However, the deputy's voice dropped to a whisper as he stated in a soft
voice, "Few know of his achievements or his greatness." Raylan didn't want to be
disrespectful, but he was at a loss as to what Allard could mean.
"But I thought it was a ceremonial position."
Allard reached out, and Raylan flinched.
But all he did was pat him on the shoulder.
"Making the city believe that a guild of thieves doesn't exist is quite an achievement, don't you
think?" Raylan relaxed a little. "Well, we know thieves exist,
but there's no such thing as a thieves guild." Allard turned back to the steps before
adding, "Exactly." The steps ended at a stone hallway.
Like the staircase, it was littered with broken pieces of wood, along with
paper and what looked like bits of pottery.
More than anything, it looked like the entrance to one of the warehouses near the craft guild.
Along its length were plain wooden doors on each side.
"What is this place?" Raylan asked, looking around at the bare hallway.
"This is a small basement that is used for storage, mostly things that have only
been used once and are wrongly considered too precious to dispose of.
That room holds the embroidered linens from Guildmaster Galwey's elevation ceremony."
Raylan shook his head. Galwey was the guild master before his brother.
He was elevated over 20 years before.
"And here we are." They reached the end of the hall.
A broad door faced them. It appeared to be solid wood and was different
than the other doors along the hall, but it lacked the decorative pretension of the
door to the guild master merchant office.
A wooden stool sat next to it in the corner.
"These are my quarters." Allard pointed to a smaller door set in the wall to the
right. He reached into the folds of his robe, pulled out a ring of keys, and flipped through
them. He unlocked the door and ushered them in. It was a single room.
It looked comfortable enough, and it was quite large,
but it was closer to an apprentice dorm than guild master quarters.
There was a fireplace in the back wall and a pair of reading chairs set near.
They faced each other with several books sitting on a table next to the chair on the
left.
The floor was flagstone with a threadbare black rug imperfectly covering
it.
To the left were bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.
To the right was a small bed with black linens.
To the immediate left of the entry door was a replica of the thief statue from Founders
Park, two thieves reaching into each other's pockets with the inscription,
"Honor among thieves," on the base below.
An empty work table was shoved into the corner to the right with two chairs pushed under
it. After taking it all in, Raylan muttered, "Seems a bit austere for a guild
master."... we could move you to the Thieves' Tower if you prefer." Raylan's jaw dropped,
and he turned to his deputy. "There is no Thieves' Tower." Allard laughed.
"Hah, of course there is. It has fallen from memory over time, which I believe was
Pietro's goal when he moved his living quarters here." Raylan simply couldn't believe it.
He had been over practically every part of Ness, and he knew there was no such thing as a
Thieves' Tower. "How long ago was that?" "It was 75 years ago.
Pietro moved into Merchant Tower the same year he was elevated." "Pietro was guildmaster
for 75 years?" Raylan didn't even know anyone 70 years old.
"Indeed. Your brother was the fourth guildmaster merchant he had served with."
Raylan walked over and sat on the bed.
He knew Pietro was ancient, but he had trouble comprehending someone, what,
90, 95 years old? He looked up at Allard, who stood just
inside the doorway. "Where is the Thieves' Tower?" "It is at the base of the mountain,
where the Old Quarter meets the Ashfields."
No wonder he or anyone he knew had never heard or seen the tower.
It was between the two most wretched areas of the city, both across the Great River.
No one from any guild crossed the river and wandered through the desolate and dangerous
Wretched Quarter, and the Ashfields were just that, fields of dead crops and
trees from over-farming during Ness' youth.
The other side of the Great River wasn't even considered part of the city anymore,
even though it was inside the walls. Raylan shook his head.
He badly wanted to visit his guild tower, even with its unfortunate location,
but that would have to wait until later. He looked around the room.
It didn't look like anyone had ever lived there.
"I assume Pietro's things have been removed." "Yes, Guildmaster
Pietro's belongings were removed this morning.
Unfortunately, we haven't had time to bring in fresh linens.
Which reminds me, we will need to procure you linens, clothing, and robes from the
Clovers.
It would probably do well to address that immediately, as you ride in the Founder's Day parade tomorrow.
And you will need blankets for tonight."
Raylan nodded, and looked around again. The books were an interesting sight.
He had never actually seen a book that wasn't used for settling accounts, and there must have
been dozens on the shelves. The rest of the room was decidedly shabby though,
and he couldn't help but feel disappointed.
He knew that his brother was punishing him, and that the guildmaster thief was nothing more
than a laughingstock, but certainly he could at least have a bed that was better than the
one he was leaving behind.
All in all, any hope that being a guildmaster would provide him with luxury were
dashed.
Raylan's head still hurt, so he dropped it to the pillow and stretched out on the bed.
He was starting to rethink his initial excitement over his new position.
He had a title, but one that was a source of amusement and scorn throughout
Ness.
He had some new clothes, but they would be black, a color possibly worse than the brown of the
guildless. He had privacy, but the price was rather depressing living quarters in the
basement of his brother's guild tower.
And while he had never had particular luck with girls, he doubted he'd have any chance
now.
He sighed. "Thinking of the parade?" Raylan had forgotten that Allard was
still there. The deputy stood straight and motionless near the door.
His arms were clasped behind his back. His hood remained up.
Raylan laughed, but it was a laugh full of bitterness.
"No, I hadn't yet gotten to that on my list of things to be concerned about."
He thought about the Founder's Parade and the tradition of the populace taking their
frustration out on thieves by pelting their guildmaster.
Few took as great a pleasure in that tradition as he had, but now it didn't
seem quite so amusing. He looked at Allard.
"So I guess I just sit in the cage and smile as I get showered in fruit and vegetable pulp."
"That was how Guildmaster Pietro handled it." Raylan realized he was being
rude relaxing while his deputy stood at attention, so he pulled himself up.
The movement sent waves of pain through his head, however, so he remained
seated. "There's another way?"
Raylan pictured a straw man wrapped in the black robe of the Thieves' Guild.
"You could stand on the wagon without a cage." (laughs)
Raylan laughed. He knew that some citizens threw rocks.
(dramatic music)