And the Devil Will Drag You Under Page 12

  He had the thumb of the Guild, but that meant lit­tle-only that you had better not leave your purse in plain sight. Coming up to her, he stopped, removed his cap, and bowed slightly.

  "Pardon-there are no empty places this night. Might I join you?" he asked in a polite and cultured voice.

  It would have been easy to brush him off, but she needed information, and information came from peo­ple. She kept her right hand on her lap, though.

  "By all means, sir, take the seat," she invited. "I am called Yoni."

  He bowed again and sat comfortably. "Sugrin Pai­brush," he replied. "I can tell by your speech that you are not of the city. I should have remembered one of such loveliness here before in any event. Norbig?"

  The flattery had little effect, but he was pleasant enough company. "Tussain," she replied. Now where the hell had that expression come from, she wondered. Clearly this Yoni was a much stronger personality than the beggar girl had been. She looked at his green garb.

  "Poacher?"

  He laughed. "Oh, my, no! Requires you be an expert bowman and fleet of foot as well. I work mostly in the country, though, where green is the best disguise."

  He didn't have to say any more, even if he were so inclined. A highwayman, without a doubt.

  After a moment's silence he continued to press the conversation. "And what brings you to our fair city? Not much pickin's around here. Too many criminals running about, you know." His eyes showed merri­ment, and the sarcastic tone in his voice was quite funny. She laughed and relaxed, starting to like him.

  They talked a bit more. She finished her sandwich and he ordered a full beef dinner, and she began to feel comfortable with him. The magical thieves' mark made life a lot easier here. He was full of witty and fantastic stories, and if most of them or most all of them weren't true, they were nonetheless entertaining.

  "And what of you?" he asked her.

  She shrugged. "Nothing much to tell-no fantastic tales." She thought a moment. "Well, perhaps one rather difficult one." In general terms she told of stealing a precious gem from a land where sin was impossible.

  He loved it. "Wonderful!" he gushed, then became a little more serious. "But now, truly. You are young, you are attractive, and you are very well off and very independent of tone and manner. Such a one as you would be dead if she were not exceptional at her trade. What brings you to this place? Vacation? Stopover?"

  She thought a moment. "I told you about stealing the gem. I have, ah, an incredible contract with an eager buyer for more of them. One is here, and I mean to have it."

  That piqued his interest a bit. "Oh? Where?"

  "Castle Zondar," she replied almost in a whisper.

  The humor and merriment drained out of him, and for a moment he just stared at her. Finally he asked, "Are you serious?" He turned and waved a hand around at the assembly of thieves and adventurers. "Look at them. Some of the best are in this room, you know. Some of the best there are. They've battled de­mons and demigods, faced down terrible sorceries and helped conquer whole kingdoms. I'm pretty good at the trade and live quite well, and I've never been caught-yet I am a flea, a gnat as compared to possi­bly a third of these. And none of these men and women will try that tower." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "No, I'd say no matter how good you are, you have an impossible contract. Break it. Forget it. Try something simpler, like fighting rogue elephants with wet noodles. It's safer and surer."

  She didn't like the sound of that, but she had no choice. "What's so hard? I can climb a wall. I've done as much or worse, even climbing some real mountains. As you surmised, Sir Sugrin, I am good."

  He smiled wanly. "It's not the getting in that's the problem-the guards and such will let you do that, at least if you're good. Not that they will open the treasury and say, `Here it is,' but it's not impossible. It's the getting out that's impossible. Alarms, demonic guardians triggered by theft-impossible. They will have you, and death will be something desired but de­nied after that."

  She considered his information. "Then maybe it's not so impossible," she responded. "You see, I'm there only to steal one thing, and if I get it in my hands I do not have to get out. The gem will transport me in an instant to my buyer."

  He thought about it. "A magic stone, then. Hmmm . . . Maybe. But the risks are still too great, and there is a lot of countermagic up there. Safer to go to one of the southern kingdoms and score big and live a life of luxury if you're that good, in any event."

  "I'll think about your advice," she told him. "But in the meantime, I'm a stranger here in need of equip­ment. Just in case I decide to try, anyway. Where would I get it?"

  "The Guild Hall, of course," he replied. "Let me finish my meal, and then I'll take you over there. It's not far, and they should be open about now."

  He ate with relish and insisted on paying the tab. Since she pretty well guessed that any advice and equipment from a Thieves' Guild would hardly be free, she did not object.

  They walked out into the darkness. Quite a large number of people stood about, but he took her away from the bustling bars and dives toward the small warehouse district of the harbor. All the time he kept up a running commentary on his philosophy of life, love, fun, and danger. When they turned another cor­ner into a narrow alley between two large, two-story grain warehouses, she began to grow a little nervous and suspicious. "I thought you said it wasn't far."

  "It's not," he replied, his voice coming from slightly to one side and behind her. She cursed herself for letting him drop behind. "In fact, it's the warehouse at the end, just across the brightly lit street up ahead.

  You can see the two gargoyles on either side holding torches in their mouths."

  She saw the building, but also noticed something else. "That looks like only a block or two down from the inn on the same street!" She turned to face him and found herself pinned to the wall with a short-sword at her throat. Sugrin Paibrush was grinning in the darkness.

  "Right you are, my girl!". he agreed. "But such is not for you. Cutpursing, perhaps, decoying, perhaps a nice little bank-but not the castle, no, not that. If you'll just remove and toss me your purse, we can be done with this. I will have saved you from a fate worse than death and, at the same time, reaped reward for my goodness. Easy, now, though! I shouldn't like to have to slit such a pretty throat!"

  She sighed and inwardly cursed herself for being so sloppily trusting. She had no doubt that this man was, in his own way, quite honorable. He would let her go if he got the money, would kill her if she did not yield, and if he got the money, would feel wonderful about doing such a good deed.

  Her hands moved to unfasten the purse from her belt. Suddenly she stepped to one side, battled down the sword on its flat, and spun the highwayman half-way around. Quickly, in a blur, she took advantage of the split second he was off balance, and using the wall as a brace, pushed off into him, feet shooting out in midair and landing right in his belly. He went down and the sword dropped free of his hand and clattered harmlessly to the ground. Quickly she somersaulted over him, landing on her feet, somehow drawing her deadly dagger at the same time, and was kneeling down with it at his throat before he could recover.

  Paibrush was stunned, not so much by the fight as by how easily the tables had turned. No less stunned was Jill McCulloch, who hadn't remembered doing any of it until she'd completed the maneuvers and still couldn't believe that she'd actually performed them. Clearly this Yoni had an incredible instinct for self-preservation that fully matched her skills and agility.

  "And now, Sir Sugrin, we shall proceed with the theft," she announced triumphantly, dagger still at his jugular. "Just rip your own purse loose and toss it to your right, near your sword."

  He smiled, seemed to shrug, and did as instructed.

  "I warn you that I toss this dagger as well as I wield it," she said, then released him and in a flash dashed over to the sword and purse.

  Paibrush rose unsteadily to his feet, his face still reflecting his surprise a
nd embarrassment. "Hustled!" He swore to himself in disgust. "Twenty-two years in the business and I let myself get hustled!"

  She laughed. He still wasn't much of a threat, but he could be. She felt his sword-a fine, well-balanced weapon that was surprisingly light, almost as if made from aluminum yet with a blade as hard as steel.

  "And now, sir, if you will remove your jerkin and breeches," she ordered.

  He looked shocked. "My what?"

  "Your clothes. Oh, you may keep the hat and boots -I shouldn't want you to catch cold. The rest you will remove and toss to me-do it! Now! Or I shall have no need of removing them!"

  He removed the shirt easily, baring a hairy chest, but took some additional prodding to take off his pants. As she'd guessed, underwear wasn't in style on this world. She stood back and looked at him as he stood embarrassed in his nakedness. "Cute," she decided.

  "B-but-look here! You can't leave me like this!" he protested. "What is the point of this?"

  She laughed. "I want no one coming up in back of me when I carry out my errands this night, particu­larly no one who bears me a grudge. This will keep you busy until you can discover a sheet or potato-sack. I'll leave the clothes at the Guild Hall."

  That plan seemed to upset him more than anything. "No! Please! Toss them in the gutter, sink them in the harbor-but not at the Guild Hall! I couldn't stand the humiliation," he pleaded.

  She laughed again and started to back off with her booty. "Very well, then-under the light on the street up there. Good luck and thank you, Sir Sugrin, for all the help you have been this night to me."

  He stood and watched her go, and as she made the street, gave a little wave, and turned, dropping the clothes just across from the intersection, some reflec­tions overcame his mortification. She really was good, he thought. She really might make it .. .

  In the meantime, he hoped no one stole his clothes before the early morning hours, when the streets would be deserted enough for him to retrieve them.

  3

  The Thieves' Guild headquarters was pretty con­spicuous despite its lack of signs. Paibrush had ex­plained its visibility as something tolerated by most local authorities, since that way they knew who the thieves were, and often had need of their services themselves. There was, of course, the additional prob­lem that spells protected the building just as other spells protected the castle. No one without the mark on his thumb could enter it; and, being a gathering place for thieves, it was probably the safest, most pro­tected, most burglarproof building in the city.

  She entered without resistance, noting the two men on the other side of the street, one leaning against a lamppost and the other pretending to look in a shop window. They were obviously cops. It didn't matter-she'd been known as a thief the moment she hit town, of course. And from what Paibrush had said, nobody who entered the Guild Hall left with anything but what they had entered with-except money, of course. It was always a good trick to enter the hall in full view of the officials, slip out by one of the dozens of secret ways designed into the place, do the job, slip back in the same way, then emerge. The perfect alibi.

  The building itself was quite something, too. Its en­tranceway looked like that of dozens of small office buildings; there was a receptionist to direct you, com­plete with hand-pumped compressed air tubes to fire messages to the various offices and departments. There was also a Directory well posted on a central support pillar, and a large message board.

  Jill scanned the message board. It contained all sorts of "I'm here, where are you" type notices, notes about arrests and convictions, and even ads for jobs. "Ocean-based pirate crew forming. Barbarians preferred, sail­ing experience essential," one read. There were lots of others.

  The Directory showed the scope of the Guild. There were specific departments for Cutpursing and Pickpockets, Blackmailers, Highwaymen and Robbers, and so on down a list of larcenies. She found Burglary and Grand Theft, then scanned the internal departments. One group would help case the place, another would outfit you, consider and work out your plan and make suggestions-or even come up with a plan if you didn't have one-and even fence the goods afterward. You could even check your balance in a foreign numbered account and make deposits and withdrawals on it. The network was incredible.

  There was also, she noted, a beard of honor and ethics, a disciplinary and enforcement squad, as well as social auxiliaries for sporting events, banquets, and the like.

  Talk about organized crime, she thought as she read the list.

  About the only thing that protected the public was the fact that you could very easily get caught-and torture and death were the rule, as the long list of In Memoriam opposite the Directory attested. No one-to-­five with time off for good behavior at a minimum-security prison farm here. It was a sobering thought.

  The receptionist was efficient and directed her to the proper department with a minimum of trouble. The first step was a junior clerk who looked more like a beginning bank teller than an official in the Thieves' Guild.

  "And where are you talking about?" he asked pleasantly.

  "Castle Zondar," she told him.

  He hesitated a moment. "You realize that the castle is considered a three-star risk?" He scribbled notes down on a house form that was beautifully printed in a kind of Old English or Germanic script.

  She nodded. "I am aware of the dangers," she as­sured him.

  He shrugged. "The danger isn't much of a problem. It's the low potential for success: You'll have to have at least the basic fees up front, you know, to cover our expenses, and you are specifically excluded from our group hospitalization and life insurance policies."

  "I expected as much," she answered truthfully. "What sort of fees are we talking about?"

  He took out another pad, mostly blank, and an abacus and started figuring. A lot of stuff was listed. He paused several times to ask additional information.

  "General sortie or specific objective?"

  "Specific objective," she responded.

  He nodded to himself. "That's a little better. Single object, then? Piece of art for a private collector? You'll get a good discount if so, since you won't have to bother with our fencing, and you wouldn't need to pay for smuggling and transport unless-until-you come back with the goods."

  "Something like that-as good as that, anyway. A talisman of no value to anyone except my employer that just happens to be there."

  "Small?"

  "Very," she agreed.

  That seemed to please him even more, and the list soon contained a lot of cross-outs and corrections. Finally he was finished and turned to her.

  "All right. Basic layout of the place, twenty. Briefing on guard schedules, basic spells, and known super-natural guardians, thirty-five. Ropes, pitons, miscel­laneous climbing equipment, along with the proper spells to render them most effective and least visible, twenty-five. Associated magic repellers, ten. Standard set-but I hope you understand that, considering the failure rate, there's obviously a bunch we don't know about, so don't put too much stock in them. Surcharge for three stars, one hundred. That comes to one hun­dred ninety exactly, plus five percent tax, one ninety-nine fifty, payable to the cashier in Room Twelve."

  "Tax?" she responded incredulously.

  He shrugged. "Since the local authorities can't come in, they have no way of estimating the property tax on the building. We got around that by accepting their bid for a sales tax. Don't worry-the payment can't be specifically traced to you."

  She shrugged and sighed. This was not her idea of crime at all.

  Yoni's purse held only twenty-nine of the gold pieces, far short, but Paibrush's contained seventy-five. Enough for the fee and a good dinner if she wanted it, and that was about it. Oh, well, she thought to her-self, if I get the jewel I don't need the gold, anyway-and if I don't, I almost certainly won't need money.

  She stood up and went down the hall to Room 12, taking the intricately coded itemized price sheet with her. The cashier looked at it, took and counted
her money, then wrote out a series of receipts for each service, placing his signature and a wax seal on each.

  "Go to the rooms indicated, in order," he instructed.

  Jill sighed and turned to go. She felt as if she were getting a driver's license rather than being briefed for a crime.

  The first place was Layout. They actually had the blueprints of the castle there, which surprised her. The woman in charge noted her reaction. "Why not? After all, it takes years to build a castle-forty-six to build Zondar-and in all that time you know somebody can steal the best guarded blueprints."

  That was a point.

  The woman offered hypnotism to allow Jill to mem­orize the plans, but she turned it down. She didn't really want to be hypnotized-no telling what would come out-and besides, it cost ten gold pieces and she didn't have them, anyway.

  The blueprints were good enough. They showed the correct passageways in the maze of the castle, and also indicated where most of the traps were. It was very easy to get around in there if you knew the layout-it had to be. Although the castle had a very small permanent population, during the day almost two hundred civil servants worked in one part or another. She won­dered why one or more of those workers hadn't turned thief, but the woman in Layout scoffed. "They undergo hypnotic spells when they leave, to scramble all their knowledge up. Besides, if you work for the govern­ment you can steal so much more than we could, any­way-why bother?"

  Again, that was a point well taken.

  Satisfied after a while that she had the basic design features down pat-and there were some pretty nasty ones if you chose the wrong door or corridor at a number of junctions-she thanked the woman and moved on.

  Next was a thin, elderly man who somehow reminded her more of a Shakespearean actor than a functionary in a place like this. It took all kinds, of course, but Jill wondered whether the place was staffed with former thieves or if, in fact, this was just another office job to these people who never themselves had to take a risk.