Twilight of Kerberos - [Shadowmage 01-03] - The Shadowmage Trilogy (Shadowmage; Night's Haunting; Legacy's Price) (68 page)

For his part, Lucius had buried his feelings for Adrianna, both good and bad, deep down. There was simply too much at stake now, and while the sun seemed to be rising on his city, he had vowed not to rock the boat between the guilds. Either way, he had resolved to be very, very wary around her.

He suspected she knew this, and that it amused her.

“I was not trying to hide,” he said, gesturing to the battlements, indicating that she should join him.

As she walked over to view the city alongside him, Adrianna smiled, creasing the scars that ran across her cheeks.

“Just as well,” she said.

Turning to follow her gaze north, Lucius watched the crowd gathered in the Square of True Believers, spilling out into the North Way towards the city gate. A great column of red marched out of Turnitia, the full weight of the Vos military that had been stationed in Turnitia, along with its assorted officials and hangers-on. The people of the city were respectful in their farewells to the soldiers that had watched over them in recent years, but few were sad at seeing them leave. Some might even have joined the crowd just to make sure the Empire was truly departing.

The day before, the Preacher Divine had made another speech in front of the Cathedral, exalting those in the city who followed the Final Faith, and urging them to do God’s will when he left. He had tried very hard to make the retreat of Vos look positive, as though it was in the natural order of things, but nothing could hide the injury that had been done to the Empire or, for that matter, the Preacher Divine himself. The assassins had crippled his right arm, and the best Vos surgeons had been unable to save it.

For better or worse, the combined efforts of Adrianna and the thieves’ guild had made the Empire’s position in the city untenable. Within a week of the great fire, when Vos officials and commanders were still foundering from lack of leadership and the demands of a broken city, Baron de Sousse, up to then a relatively minor lord from Pontaine, had decreed that the rule of the Empire in Turnitia was over, and that he would take the city under the protection of his estates.

It was a simple land grab, but it left the Empire with a stark choice: leave the city or go to war over Turnitia.

It was certain that Pontaine could not face war itself, but nor could Vos, and the presence of de Sousse’s army so close to the city forced the withdrawal.

“Thought I would find you two up here,” a young voice said, and Lucius smiled as Adrianna whirled around.

“Good morning, Grennar,” he said. “Won’t you join us?”

“I will, thank you.”

“How did you know we were here?” Adrianna asked suspiciously.

Grennar gave her a pained look.

“You think the mistress of the beggars’ guild does not always know where the mistress of the Shadowmages and the thieves’ guildmaster are, at all times?”

“Frankly, no,” said Adrianna.

“Oh,” Grennar said. “In that case, you might want to think about moving from your lair in the cliffs.”

Lucius chuckled. When the Shadowmage threw him a dangerous look, he held up a hand.

“Do not trouble yourself with what Grennar does and does not know,” he said. “Just be sure to consult her whenever you need to know anything that happens in the city.”

Lucius admired Grennar a great deal. She was wise beyond her years, as the saying went, and there was much that she and Adrianna had in common. After Sebastian abdicated leadership of the beggars’ guild to go travelling, Lucius had wondered whether Grennar would have the strength of character to govern a guild filled with so many older than herself.

She had risen to the challenge. Just as Adrianna had some very definite ideas about how the Shadowmages’ guild should be organised and run, so too was Grennar determined to leave her stamp upon the beggars. With him now running the thieves’ guild, the three of them had formed an alliance of sorts and, though Lucius and Grennar did not really trust Adrianna, they could all see the possible benefits and support the alliance could offer. Grennar had nicknamed them the Triumvirate, and proclaimed their ability to run the entire city.

Lucius did not believe their influence would stretch that far, but the possibilities were interesting.

For his own part, Lucius had finally accepted leadership of the thieves. He still maintained that it was not something he wanted but there had been no one else he trusted. A very long conversation with Wendric had left him with the impression that the lieutenant had risen as far in the guild as he ever intended. Wendric liked the authority he carried as the guild’s second, but did not want the responsibility that went with overall leadership. He wanted to be the man behind the master, not the master himself. That left Lucius.

Deep down, Lucius had told himself that he would stay just a few years and abdicate when someone better came along. Until then, there was plenty of work to be done and the idea of shaping the guild to his own personality had an appeal.

“Good riddance to them,” Grennar said, pronouncing her judgement on the Vos soldiers as they began to wind their way through the north gate.

“What is the word on the streets?” Lucius asked.

Grennar shrugged. “The people seem optimistic. Not sure why. Our new masters may not be that different from our old masters.”

“Pontaine has a different way of doing things,” he said.

“We will find out soon enough,” Grennar said. “Their army will be here before the evening.”

“That soon?” Adrianna asked.

“You don’t think Vos just picked a random day to leave the city, do you? They wanted to keep their claws in the city for as long as they possibly could.”

“Any rumours on this baron?” Lucius asked.

“More than rumours. We have already had an audience.”

Lucius and Adrianna turned to face her, brows raised.

“How did you manage that?” Lucius finally asked.

“It’s my guild now, thief. We are doing things my way, and I always thought Sebastian limited himself by only having agents within the city walls. I simply... expanded things.”

Again, Lucius chuckled.

“Impressive,” Adrianna allowed. “How did your contact with the baron go?”

“Well, by all accounts,” Grennar said. “The... situation in the city was explained to de Sousse, and he has requested a meeting with the three of us.”

Adrianna and Lucius glanced at each other briefly, thinking the same thoughts. It was Grennar that spoke them out loud.

“It seems the Baron de Sousse is an intelligent man. He recognises who has the power in the city and he is willing to do business with us.”

Lucius smiled. “That is good work, Grennar.”

She gave him a mock curtsey.

They returned to the battlements, each now lost in their own thoughts and plans as they watched the last Vos soldiers leave the city and start the long march back to the Empire.

Lucius knew he would have trouble with some of his thieves, particularly those that had been in the guild the longest. And the assassins, of course. They all knew about his Shadowmage abilities, and not all were comfortable with a wizard among their ranks, especially as they had learned how Elaine had died. The resentment would only get worse when they found out he had also pledged himself to renew his magical training under Adrianna’s direction. That, of course, would carry its own dangers, but the recent events had convinced him that he could no longer turn his back on his heritage. For better or worse, he would be both thief and Shadowmage.

So, he thought, there was a new age coming for Turnitia. It might never be the free and independent city it once was, long ago, but if this new Pontaine lord was prepared to deal with guilds on the fringes of society, life was about to improve.

The world was opening up with possibilities.

THE END

Original cover art by Greg Staples

CHAPTER ONE

T
HE
C
ITADEL LEERED
down over Turnitia, its five towers as dark and threatening as they ever had been. Involuntarily, Lucius kept his eyes downcast and wrapped his grey cloak about him all the tighter, as if to avoid scrutiny from the occupants of the fortress.

It was habit. Not three months ago, the Citadel had been the outward symbol of Vos domination and tyranny over a city that had once rejoiced in its own liberty as much as Freiport did now. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of the city’s citizens had gone through the huge iron-wrought gates that towered above him, never to be seen again. Many of those had been thieves from his own guild.

What a difference three months made.

Where Vos had once ruled, now Pontaine was dominant, rising in its ascendancy. The ever opportunistic baron, de Sousse, had taken advantage of the weakness with which the Vos Empire had held the city and now his troops garrisoned the Citadel, his court reigning in its keep.

Even Pontaine frippery could not change the outward nature of the Citadel, though.

Lucius passed through the main gates that burrowed through the yards-thick exterior wall, faintly marvelling at the lack of guards. Under the Vos regime, the gates were never opened unless there was good reason, and the familiar red-tabarded guards would be present in force. Now Pontaine held sway, security was far less visible, and the city’s people were openly encouraged to enter the courtyard, trade, do business with Pontaine officials, or even just take a look around the place that had dominated their lives.

That was the tradition of Pontaine leadership. To rule without being seen to rule. To interact and build relationships with the populace, not ruthlessly control their lives. As far as the Baron de Sousse was concerned, Lucius was coming to believe, it mattered less than the fate of a fly what citizens got up to in their own homes or on their own streets. So long as their taxes were paid and the – fairly lax, by Vos standards – rule of law was obeyed, the lords of Pontaine would not even notice you.

That was a good starting position for the leader of a thieves’ guild, and Lucius was here this evening to see just how flexible the baron intended to be.

Beyond the gates, the courtyard of the Citadel was mostly empty, with just a few citizens gathering their possessions after a day’s trading, watched by a smaller number of off-duty Pontaine guardsmen, their bright blue and orange tunics stretched tight over chainmail. However, despite the spears they kept near to hand, there was little intimidating or frightening about them. They relaxed, joking amongst themselves as they drank deeply from pewter tankards.

Lucius cast a long glance around the courtyard, taking in the various outbuildings scattered along the inside of the main walls, the looming keep that rose even above their height, and the long stone bridge that spanned from the keep to one of the five towers. He had fought for his life on that bridge, infiltrated the depths of the keep, and battled alongside his thieves and assassins against the worst Vos could throw at them. Many had died.

From time to time, Lucius found himself naming the dead. Swinherd, Nate, Helmut, Harker, Hengit.

Elaine.

Many had died here in the Citadel, others had been caught in clashes between the thieves and the tightening grip of the Vos Empire.

If some of their killers had escaped to Vos during the rout, then at least the Citadel itself still bore the scars. The unleashing of powerful magics deep within the keep had shattered part of its foundations, and Lucius could see the metal and wood framework supporting the eastern corner of the giant building as Pontaine engineers laboured to repair the damage. There was talk around the city that the foundations were beyond help and that the Citadel would have to be completely demolished and rebuilt. Lucius would not have minded that.

As he closed the distance to the keep, sounds of music and laughter floated to him across the courtyard. The noise seemed at odds with the sombre surroundings, and even the garish banners hung from the walls of the keep, welcoming various Pontaine lords, did nothing to aid the atmosphere of revelry. Not that this seemed to matter to those inside the keep’s main hall.

Two guardsmen dipped their spears in a half-salute as Lucius approached the keep’s grand entrance, but they did not so much as ask his name as he mounted the wide stone stairs and passed them. Lucius shook his head silently. Three months.