A Thief's Apprenticeship
(c) Aaron Graham 8th May 2000

Chapter 5

Cutty sat at the table, and peered at the man opposite him. A bulky, muscular man, Cutty was a fence for some of the best thieves in the City, and was used to dealing with the criminal classes. His vacant blue eyes and balding head hid behind them a sharp, analytical brain that had served Cutty well during his career. Starting as a thief, he had gradually made enough money to retire, but the thrill of his career had kept him stealing. This was until a guard's sword had punctured his lung. A healing potion had helped, sealing up the rent, but Cutty still found trouble breathing, and was frequently sick in the damp, polluted fogs that often blanketed the City.

However, for all his experience he was made nervous by the man on the other side of the desk from him. He said that his name was Garrett, and that he wanted Cutty for his fence. The fact that this man had even heard of Cutty was remarkable; the fence's profession was not one that encouraged notoriety. However, Garrett had also found Cutty's home, had stepped out of the shadows as the fence had approached his door. Cutty had heard rumours of men who could vanish into the shadows, and the fact that Garrett had managed to remain undetected even to the fence's watchman made him uneasy. However, the most unnerving thing was Garrett's face, hidden in the shadows cast by his hooded cloak. The flickering candlelight occasionally highlighted a nose and cheekbones, but nothing else. Garrett's eyes also reflected the candlelight, sparkling as he shifted his head.

Cutty stopped his inspection of the man, and looked down at the parchment that he had brought. The paper was poor quality, and the ink had faded. However, the writing was smooth and aristocratic, reminiscent of the few letters that Cutty had received from Lord Tanner during the progression of a previous job. The details in the letter matched with what Cutty knew, but did not convince him of the validity of Garrett's purported reputation. The fingers that had appeared to hand the letter over had been long and slim; perfect for a thief, but also for a forger. Cutty had no wish to be duped.

He cleared his throat, and began to speak in his low, throaty voice. "Garrett," he said, "while I acknowledge that the letter appears genuine, I remain...unconvinced...about its origin. There are as many forgers in this city as there are thieves, and, as you can understand, I have no wish to act as your fence on the evidence that you have presented".

Before Cutty could say any more, Garrett's head came up, and the eyes stared into his. The shadow inside the hood nodded slowly, and then the man stood up from his chair. Nervous, Cutty slipped his hand below his desk to prepare to summon the watchman from outside the door. Garrett's hand came out, and Cutty was on the verge of pressing the button when the thief snatched the letter from his other hand. The paper went into the cloak, and then Garrett turned around to leave, his cloak sweeping round to cause several other papers on the desk to fall off. Garrett stepped towards the door, opened it and walked through it, shutting it behind him. Cutty released the breath he had been holding, and moved his hand from the button to the desk. The silence of the thief's exit had been unsettling, and Cutty was glad to see the back of him. Calling in his watchman, he sent the man out to tail Garrett, both to see where he lived and to ensure that he was not an agent of the City Guard. The one time that had happened before, the agent's body had been found floating in the sewer.

Garrett slipped quietly through the shadows of the sleeping City, fuming at Cutty's words. Life on the streets and with the Keepers had been tough and disappointing, but he had come to expect more from his career after the Keepers. Although he understood intellectually why the fence had refused him, he felt betrayed, especially after what he had been through to obtain what he though was sufficient evidence of his skill. He paused at an intersection, and waited in the shadow of a porch as a contingent of the City Guard passed by on their patrol. After their departure all was silent, and Garrett was about to move off when he heard the faint scrape of leather against stone. He paused, and then heard the sound again. Garrett smiled. While it would not endear him to Cutty, removing his watchman might make him more eager to receive Garrett when the time came to see him again.

Garrett drew his bow from his back, and selected a broadhead from the quiver. Nocking the feathered end into the string, he leant out and scanned the street. All seemed still and quiet, but the Keepers had taught Garrett how to force someone to reveal themselves. He drew back the arrow, and aimed it carefully. Then, he released the string and the arrow sped off, impacting on the wooden door of the house with a large thud. Suddenly, from a shadowed doorway in another part of the street, a shape moved, as the man moved to the door. Garrett smiled coldly. By making the arrow hit the join between the planks, it made a sound like that of a body hitting the floor. He now prepared to make the sound for real. This arrow struck the watchman in the throat, piercing the windpipe as the steel head buried itself in the flesh. Gurgling in pain and surprise, the man fell backwards, and Garrett resumed his journey back to his lodgings.

At his lodgings, he removed his cloak, and stored the tools of his trade in a secret space he had made behind his bed. A false nail and hidden latch concealed the space, and the bed prevented accidental discovery. Garrett then sat down on his bed to read his reward of the evening. His fit of pique at Cutty's house had been only partly real. The sweep of the cloak over the desk concealed his hand as it reached for the letters. He had only managed to grab one, but it promised to be a most...enlightening read.

    Cutty

    I write to inform you that my client is most impressed with the talents you have displayed in retrieving the requested items. Although your price is somewhat high for the work performed, my client has consented to allow me to offer you a bonus for the considerable speed with which you obtained the Compass Gems, and for your disgression. Angering the Hammerites is never a good idea, and my client is pleased that the Gems were retrieved from them with no trace of his involvement.

    I regret that you believe my involvement with the arrest and subsequent execution of the thief who performed our contract. Rest assured that I am in no way involved with this sorry incident - such a thing would destroy my fellow's trust in me, and, as you must be aware, trust is the most valuable thing a fence must possess.

    However, to ensure that you hold nothing against me, I am prepared to offer you another job. Your success in dealing with the Hammerites has also influenced me and my client in this choice of your services.

    The task is to enter the Hammerite library in the district of Prisongate, and remove a certain book from the shelves of the library. The book is called 'The Sacrifice of Brother Gearsmith to defeat the Trickster', and contains several pages that my client would prefer to remain the exclusive owner of. The pages deal with the Trickster's lair, the Maw of Chaos. Let me assure you that my client has no Pagan ties, but merely wishes to ensure that he possesses the sole copy of this rather valuable tone. My client will accept either the complete book or proof of its destruction. He is prepared to pay 2000 if this is done in two weeks, otherwise the amount decreases by 100 every week. I will, of course, pay half the amount beforehand.

    If you wish to accept this commission, contact me through the usual channels to confirm it, and to arrange for when to deliver the book or the proof. If you wish to decline this commission, please return this letter to the standard address.

    Viktoria

Garrett put down the letter, and stared at it thoughtfully. He had heard of Viktoria, an attractive woman who dealt with exotic objects and medicinals. This orientation towards nature had led some to accuse her of being a Pagan, a label that was undesirable to someone who had the ambition she was reputed to have. She had previously been the fence to a City Warden called Raputo, but had left suddenly. Rumour had it that she had forged links with a wealthy new client. Judging from the sum being offered in the letter, this would appear to be true.

He picked up the letter and read it through again. The sum was attractive, and libraries tended to be full of librarians and not guards. Even the Hammerites in this library were likely to be scholars and not warriors. Additionally, he was eager to cultivate contacts to help him in his work, or to pass on news of his work to others who would require his services. Garrett was ambitious, and while not consumed by greed he was determined to live out his life in a reasonable standard of luxury.

That was the reason why, several days later, Garrett found himself outside the library, the chill wind cutting through his skin to his bones, despite the clothes he wore. His cloak was intended only for concealment, and the clothes below were light to allow him to carry the tools of his trade. However, he was not the only one who found the cold unbearable. Outside the library stood two Hammerite guards, dressed in their red and silver clothes. Around their necks were neck-plates to protect the throat, while they each carried their trademark sledgehammer. A large instrument, heavy enough to be only wielded by the warriors of the Hammerite Order, it could inflict devastating blows to unprotected flesh, and dent the expensive armour that nobles wore. Garrett remembered a scene from his youth, where a Hammerite patrol had been prevented from arresting a citizen by a contingent of the City Guard. Facing six swords, the Hammerites had attacked, using their sledgehammers to beat aside the weaker blades and crush the skulls of the Guards. By the time that the sole remaining member had retreated, the two Hammerites had killed the remaining five without a single injury to themselves.

The gate that the Hammerites guarded was typical of their unique architectural style. As if fearing attack from the Pagans or revolting citizens, the Hammerites built their installations like fortresses, with thick, crenelated walls and large towers. The gate was flanked on both sides by thick, squat towers, their tops only slightly higher than the level of the surrounding battlements. The entrance was small, and blocked by a heavy portcullis controlled by the gatehouse above. Through the archer slits in the walls, Garrett could see powered lights that seemed to flash on and off as the archers walked in front of them on their patrols. In a frontal attack, the library would only fall through a siege or total destruction of its defences. However, Garrett was not planning to enter the building through the front gate.

He knelt, his cloak forming a black puddle of cloth on the floor, and reached out his hands to lever back the drain cover inset in the floor. The sewers were normally reached through the district maintenance stations, but certain sections of the City's sewers possessed manholes, to enable the workers to climb down and eliminate problems. Although intended to be locked and bolted, the Department of Public Works assumed that no-one would want to climb down into the sewers, and so did not replace the locks when they rusted away and fell off.

The cover opened with a scream of protesting hinges, and Garrett quickly slipped into the hole beneath to avoid being seen. He closed the cover behind him, and found himself standing on a platform several feet above the main sewage tunnel, with a ladder leading down to the walkways that flanked it.

Garrett dropped down on to the walkway, and looked around. The sewage level in the main channel was low, evidence of the recent shortage of water that the entire region had been experiencing. The small amount of food that was grown in the local area had raised the prices for it enormously, and meant that now only the rich could afford it. As a result the stench was minimal and bearable, and would hopefully not leave a distinctive odour on his clothes. He stepped along the walkway, his footfalls loud against the roughly cut and dressed stone. His hand slipped inside his cloak, and emerged with a sheet of rough parchment. The archives of the Department of Public Works were well guarded to prevent the misuse of its maps in this manner, but Garrett had contacts who could procure the necessary plans - for a price. Most of his working budget went towards purchasing maps for the jobs he was contracted to do. Although expensive, it gave him a valuable lead over his competitors.

His map in hand, Garrett navigated his way towards his objective, using the faint light of the infrequent torches and his own hand to guide him. Eventually he reached the side tunnel, a smaller sewer with no walkways or lamps that branched out from the main sewer. It was blocked by a metal grate, its bars rusted and old. It was a work of moments to use his sword to smash open the padlock that held it shut, and then to push the grate open so as to allow him to access it. Thankfully the tunnel's floor was curved in such a way that Garrett could walk along it without dirtying his feet. Although he was not fastidious by nature, he was reluctant to dirty his feet in a way that would leave distinctive footmarks and make him easy to smell.

Eventually Garrett reached the end of the tunnel, and found himself inside the privy of the library. While not the most elegant way to enter such an institution of learning, he had decided that it would promote longevity to avoid taking on the guards at the entrance to the it. He took out his short-bow, and reached into his quiver to draw out his sole rope arrow. He had been relying on the Hammerites using wood as their ceiling - although he had planned how to get in if the ceiling was stone, he was reluctant to go to such extremes to enter. The rope arrow impacted in the roof, and the line extended downwards through the hole to Garrett. Sending up a mental prayer to the Watchman that no-one walk in, he climbed on the rope and hauled his way up. Gradually his head, and then his shoulders, emerged through the hole, allowing him to see that the place was unoccupied and lit by a flickering torch that could be extinguished if the need arose. The room itself was remarkable only in its ordinarity, with a flagstone floor, stone walls and a wooden roof. The walls were bare stone, undecorated with either carvings or tapestries, while the only furniture was the wooden board with the hole in it through which Garrett had come.

He crept over to the door of the room and listened. Faintly he heard the sound of footsteps on stone floor, footsteps that decreased in volume as the guard presumably walked away. Garrett opened the door, and peered out into the corridor. It was similar in construction to the room he was in presently, but the floor had carpet runners, and wooden panels covered the walls above waist height. Torch lights flickered in inset holders. At the moment all was quiet, but Garrett knew that he would have to move quickly, for Hammerites were patrolling the corridors.

Mentally recalling his map of the place, he slipped out of the door, shut it behind him, and then made his way down the corridor. He had decided that the most likely place it would be in the 'Ancient History' section of the library - the most obvious section, 'Pagans', was no longer in existence, and its books had been re-distributed among the many remaining sections. However, the quickest route to the necessary section required passing through the 'Technology' section of the library. While the bookcases would provide good cover, Garrett would have much preferred to take the longer, but safer route through the reading rooms and the scribe's quarters. However, speed was of the essence, due to the fact that he wanted to be far away from the library before the Hammerites became aware of the book's absence.

He walked down the corridor, finally finding the correct door. In the background he could hear muted footsteps of a guard, footsteps that increased in volume as the guard drew nearer and nearer. Garrett never made it his practice to walk into rooms without listening at the door first, but the need to disappear before the guard arrived made him ignore his instincts, open the door, and slip in. Thankfully the area on the other side of the door was deeply shaded, and he quietly walked into it, shutting the door behind him to avoid arousing suspicion. The door to 'Ancient History' was on the other side of the room, and Garrett began to move towards it, taking care to stay in the shadows as much as possible. He had just moved out of them when he heard the sound of footsteps that drew nearer and louder, until they finally stopped just on the other side of the bookcase. Garrett froze with fear, hardly daring to breathe. Then two voices began to speak, and he realised with horror that there were two Hammerites on the other side of the bookcase, having a conversation just feet away from him;

    "So, Brother Karras, dost thy work on thine new security cameras proceed well?"

    "Indeed, Brother Dovetail. Master Forger Garacon hath expressed great satisfaction on the functioning of them. I have even heard that mine work hast been chosen to be installed in Cragscleft!"

    "Truly this is news! Thou hast solved the problems thou didst experience with them?"

    "Aye, the cameras do now function as the Builder intended. Indeed, I do want to make further improvements to them, but the accursed Master Forger Masonson hast prohibited me from it!"

    "Why, Brother Karras?"

    "Oh, he didst say that mine ideas are too unconventional, that the Master Builder hast given us the technology and that it is not our purpose to improve on it. His lack of vision infuriates me. The Builder didst give us hands to work with, and didst give us the brains to improve the machines that were His gift to us. Are we to be like the Pagans, who use not their brains and so still build their houses of wood?!"

    "Hush, Brother! Thine passion for our Order does indicate the depths of thine faith, but is't that thou is thinking of defying the wishes of the Master Forgers, even the High Priest? Aye, the Master Builder gave us His machines and His blessing, but thou cans't seriously be so radical as to rebel against our superiors. For 'tis their task to interpret the Builder's word, and ours to follow it. If thou dost continue with thine attitude, thou willst find thyself closer to thine security cameras than thou dost wish to. Cragscleft is the only destination for those who choose to doubt the Builder's commands, or those whom He has chosen as our leaders!"

    "I know, Brother Dovetail, I know. Yet, I cannot rid myself of these thoughts. I even have plans for a greater security measure, with great cameras of copper and brass that move by themselves and can do more actions than just raise the alarm. Our theology does not allow for such radical machines, but I feel..."

    "Brother Karras, if thou art to continue this diatribe against our theology I will have no choice but to speak of thee to the Master Forger. As the Master Builder says, 'When thou dost consort with thieves thou dost become one in the eyes of those who see'. I have no wish to end up in the cell beside thee. I bid thee good night, and warn thee that if thine attitude persists thou may be meeting the Master Builder earlier than thou dost hope for!"

Abruptly the conversation ended, with the sound of a single set of footsteps wandering away. The other priest remained behind. From the lisping voice Garrett decided that it was Brother Karras, for that was how the voice had been addressed by the other priest. He was preparing to move on towards the door when suddenly the one behind him opened. He spun round quickly, to see a Hammerite guard walking through the door. In his hand was a sledgehammer. Aware that he only had moments to act, Garrett drew his sword its scabbard inside his cloak, and ran at the man. The Hammerite was quick to see him, and let out a call for help that must have alerted the entire compound. Garrett feinted with the sword, and thrust at the man, but the Hammerite was proficient with his weapon and responded with a parry that blocked the attack. With his sword pushed away the thief's flank was open, and the Hammerite took advantage of this. He thrust his sledgehammer towards Garrett's head with a roar. The thief tried to avoid him, but the heavy metal head caught him just above the ear, and knocked him to the ground. Garrett landed heavily, and felt the world grow black as the Hammerite loomed over him.

When Garrett came to he found himself in a cell. The walls were stained white with water, the floor brown with mud, and the ceiling black with soot. The bars of the cell were rusted but strong, and deeply inset into the stone of the floor and ceiling. He was lying on a mound of earth covered with straw. A small pit in the corner stank abominably, while the floor was stained with ominous patches of dried, crusted blood.

Suddenly, there was movement in the cell next over. A groan came from it, and Garrett looked over to see a pale man emerge from beneath the straw of the bed. He was dark-haired and medium in size, with soft hands that were stained with ink. His clothes were those of a clerk, but were ripped and torn, probably from when the Hammerites had taken him into custody. His eyelids gradually flickered open, and he lay for a long time looking at the ceiling, breathing shallowly. Then, with a curse, he rolled over and saw Garrett for the first time. The man was ill, that was plain, but seemed to be strong enough to talk.

Garrett normally kept to himself, but the man had no such inhibitions. He said that his name was Giry, and that he had formerly had a job tending the ticket counter at the City's opera house. Fired after Lady Valerius had taken over the job of managing the opera house from her rival Raoul, he had been forced to live on the streets. However, the Hammerites had arrested him after a failed attempt to earn a living as a pickpocket. He needed money to bribe a worker for a key to a Department of Public Works sewer maintenance building. Like the Downwinders, Giry had found a secret passage below it that would be perfect to live in.

Giry's conversation was cut short by the arrival of a Hammerite guard. Gloating, the guard came and stood by the cells, just out of reach.

"So," he said. "You are to be the newest arrivals at Cragscleft. I canst see that mine brethren will be very busy for a time - most probably a short time".

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6 / Go back to Fanworks