FIFTEEN

  Heading back into the city, Vidar soon reached the neat rows of warehouses that made up most of the street nearest the docks. It was empty. No, not so. Vidar stopped. A chill that had very little to do with the temperature radiated down his spine and out, not sparing his limbs. Lytir waited. Often, the vagrant would lounge against a wall somewhere, reading a book or watching the people go by. Tonight, his intention was clear. He waited. Waited for Vidar between a pair of warehouses, standing and facing him.

  Vidar looked left, then right, hoping for some passersby but finding none. It was as if only he and the other man existed within the walls of Halmstadt. The night was dead silent.

  Running, Vidar's heart thudded, and his breath came out in quick puffs of vapor in the cold air. Even at a distance, he got a sense of amusement from his one-time friend. Ignoring the pain from all those hours under the pricking torture of the tattooist, Vidar hurried his steps, running along the water. Between each set of warehouses he passed, Lytir stood waiting. He never moved. The vagrant, no, the demon, just was. Finally coming to a stop, Vidar realized this would get him nowhere. Lytir waited. He was patient, but Vidar would not get out of speaking with him. Or perhaps the man hiding behind the mask of an amicable vagrant had come for some other business this night. Even now, Vidar doubted that. Though menacing in his pursuit, Vidar saw no malicious intent in the man's eyes or the amused, upturned corners of his mouth. Fine then. If he wanted to talk, Vidar would give him a piece of his mind.

  "What are you?" Vidar asked, noting how Lytir wore his usual beggar's garb.

  Lytir's smile widened. "A friend, little scribe. Just a dear old friend."

  "He called you demon."

  "One of the foul kind," Lytir nodded, putting a hand so he could rest his chin upon it. "The boy who broke tradition is full of surprising knowledge. A friend to keep near, indeed."

  Vidar took a half-step back. "So you are a demon?"

  "History forgets," Lytir said before breaking out in hearty laughter. "Knowing friend from foe is ever more challenging." He leaned in as if wanting to whisper a secret. "Beware the man in cloth. But rest assured, little scribe, you have a friend in me. Now. Before. Always."

  Vidar stood his ground and narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

  "Why?" The question seemed to take Lytir aback. It was the first time he'd seen the man surprised. “Because you're going to save my life, of course."

  "I am?" Vidar asked, scratching at his hair so it moved enough to show the tattoo placed square in the middle of his forehead. Kenaz.

  "Look at you, painted warrior. Fierce champion, bestowed with the dragon's blessing. You shall have your fill of battle, but brute strength will not save us."

  "I'm going to the thieves' guild," Vidar said, ignoring the fact that Lytir changed the subject. "I don't trust them not to attack me. Best be prepared."

  "Taking what does not belong to you is a fine human tradition. Older even than I, in a way."

  "Are you a demon? You never answered," Vidar said.

  Lytir gave the question some thought, then ignored it. "A journey to expand your horizons is rarely a fool's errand."

  Vidar blinked, then furrowed his brow. "What?"

  "I have given you all the knowledge I may. Use your wits, little scribe, and your brawn. The real test of your mettle has yet to come, and the real enemy still wriggles in the shadows. We will speak again. Soon."

  Lytir turned around and strode away, rounding a corner to disappear in the night before Vidar had a chance to reply. In that same moment, voices rose from a side street, drunken revelers defying the cold, and a dog yipped in the distance. Halmstadt came to life again, as if having been silenced for a time.

  "At least he didn't disappear into thin air this time," Vidar muttered, continuing onward with purpose in his steps. It was late indeed, but there was no putting off what was coming next. He needed to go hear out this other thieves' guild leader, Fjodor.

  The building looked very much like an inn and Vidar would have turned around, thinking he got the wrong house, if not for Linus standing nearby, looking this way and that while fidgeting with his hands and shuffling his feet around.

  "Hello," Vidar said.

  Linus, ever vigilant, jumped into the air with a shriek. "Where have you been?"

  "I had some errands. Is this the place? Fjodor is inside?"

  "He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

  "You're saying that like anyone ever likes to be kept waiting. How will I know him?"

  "He's the one behind the bar. Can't miss him."

  Vidar nodded and walked up to follow Linus as they entered the den of thieves. The warmth you’d expect when entering an inn was present, with a fire burning right near the entrance. That was, however, where the similarities to most inns he'd visited ended. Rather than loud laughter, men drinking their sorrows away, and the telltale signs of a fistfight about to break out, people sat around sturdy, rectangular wooden tables, eating what looked like proper food and drinking wine, of all things.

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  Vidar tugged a little at his already bedraggled set of clothes as he glanced around the the well-dressed patrons. Few of them looked up when he and Linus entered, and no one's attention lingered.

  "What is this place?" Vidar whispered to Linus. "Where are the thieves?"

  Linus cleared his throat and glanced at a big man behind the counter.

  Walking up, Vidar addressed the clean-shaven man who wore his long dark hair tied back with a colorful, yellow leather cord. "You Fjodor?"

  Rather than the telltale belly that was the tell-tale sign of every innkeeper, his white apron clung tight around a muscular frame, and the rolled-up sleeves of his tunic revealed muscular forearms. Fjodor knew hard labor. Either that, or combat.

  Fjodor gave a curt nod and gestured for Vidar to take a stool at the bar. Other than Vidar and Linus, who'd followed along like a puppy, the row was otherwise empty.

  "I expected you earlier, master scribe."

  His voice was low and rumbling, but melodious, with only a hint of arrogance.

  "My apologies. I was held up," Vidar said.

  A man in the corner shifted where he stood with folded arms, surveying the room. A baton hung from his belt, and the man looked like he knew how to use it.

  Fjodor waved the man back. "Don't worry. Just security."

  "You've been following me," Vidar said. "Linus here says you wanted to talk to me. You could have asked rather than have your people try to kidnap me."

  "Kidnap?" Fjodor asked, one eyebrow raised and his mouth turning up in a crooked smile. "My nephew here still has some training to do regarding following proper instructions."

  "But you said—" Linus began before quieting under a stern look from the thieves' guild master.

  "So, I'm here now. What do you want?" Vidar asked.

  "You met Yallander."

  Vidar searched the man's face for some clue of how much he knew, finding no purchase. "I did."

  "And Tyv?"

  "I haven't met him," Vidar said.

  Fjodor picked up a glass and began wiping it with a cloth. "Let's hope it stays that way. He believes you are implicated in the death of his predecessor."

  "If I am, shouldn't he be pleased with me, the engineer of his ascension?"

  "They were friends from boyhood. Ran the streets together."

  "Oh," Vidar said.

  "Oh," Fjodor agreed.

  "What I want, Vidar, is simple enough,” Fjodor said, linking his fingers together and placing his hands and elbows on the counter. “I want to work together with you."

  "Work with me how?"

  Vidar expected him to want him to turn against Ida and her guild, or possibly just to lure him to them for some sort of assault, or even kill him outright, which was why he had gone to the dennerish first.

  "Your agreement with Yallander should’ve been extended to the greater thieves' guild. He should not have tried to keep you to himself."

  "You know about that?"

  "Of course."

  "And now you want me to teach your thieves?"

  "I don't just want you to teach, Vidar. I want you to join us."

  Vidar felt his mouth open, and he closed it too hard, biting his tongue. Wincing, he croaked, "Join the thieves' guild?"

  The quiet hum in the room behind him seemed to fall away as if everyone were holding their breath.

  "I am no thief," Vidar said, watching Fjodor to gauge how he received the refusal. His back prickled with the attention of those behind him. The door outside opened and another man Vidar hadn't seen, lounging right by the door, held up a hand and shook his head at the would-be patrons. They nodded and slunk back out. Rather than resume his position, the man stood right in front of the door, blocking it.

  Fjodor, the leader, just gave a slight shake of his head, then a brief nod. "There is so much more to the thieves' guild than mere thievery, Vidar. I think you would make a good fit, given your proclivities and your temperament. But I won't force anyone to join. Just know that the door is open to you, should you change your mind."

  Vidar swallowed hard, trying not to look away from Fjodor's placid face. It was a mask of calm. Vidar could tell that much. A good mask, but a mask nonetheless.

  "So that's it?" Vidar asked.

  "Oh no," Fjodor said. "We are just getting started."

  Vidar knew what the man was getting at. "You still want me to teach rune craft to your thieves."

  "That is part of it," Fjodor confirmed.

  "Part?"

  "How much do you know of the thieves' guild, Vidar?"

  "Very little."

  Fjodor filled the glass he'd just finished polishing with water and placed it before Vidar on the counter. "And that is how we like to keep things, but today, I think, it's time to give a measure of general knowledge."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes," Fjodor said. "Most major cities in Sveland are divided into four equal parts, with one guild leader in charge of one of those parts. Those four are together responsible for keeping the guild's interest in that city. So it is here as well, in Halmstadt."

  "What does this have to do with me?" Vidar asked.

  "Opportunity to solve an ongoing issue."

  "How so?"

  "Yallander is dead, and Tyv is set on having your head hanging above his head, along with the girl thieves and the rest of your family. I'm offering a way out of your predicament."

  Vidar took a deep swig from the glass in front of him. His throat was parched. "I'm listening."

  "Tyv is reaching beyond his station. This is no uncommon thing in our walk of life, but he is going about it without the proper finesse. My aim in this situation is to step in and seize control of his territory. For the good of the guild."

  "For the good of the guild, of course," Vidar said, the words coming out with a little more sarcasm than he'd intended. "So, I teach rune craft to help you take over Tyv's territory, and by doing so, he's removed from being able to hurt me or those I care about. Meanwhile, you'll help keep us safe."

  "A fine summation."

  Linus squirmed in his seat, and Fjodor threw a glance the boy's way before shaking his head a little. "That is how this begins. You teach and help, and in return, we keep you and yours protected. Our new knowledge will let us quash any effort of retaliation from Tyv. I'll even let Ida and her little girls to join the thieves' guild. You can tell her she'll be allowed to keep command of her troops."

  Fjodor closed his eyes and nodded, as if patting himself on the back for the excellent plan. "What do you think?"

  "I'll teach, for proper compensation, of course, but I can't promise anyone wanting to join the thieves' guild. From what I've been told, girls aren't allowed."

  "A leftover rule from the day of our father's fathers. Ancient and irrelevant, in my mind. An alliance would be acceptable as well. They need to focus their attention on Tyv's Rat Town. That's all I ask."

  "And you'll protect everyone?" Vidar asked.

  Fjodor reached over the bar, holding out his hand. "You have my word."

  "A partnership then," Vidar said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

  "Partnership," Fjodor agreed. "I'll station some proper protection outside that new shop of yours, as well as your old family home."

  "Thank you."

  "I would like to ask something else of you, Vidar," Fjodor said.

  "Oh?"

  "The barrier rune. I'd like one."

  "That's it?" Vidar asked, pulling one out of his coat pocket. "Five silver coins and it's yours!"