Stephen Deas: The Thief-Taker's Blade

She was a Taiytakei ship. A small one, but sleek and narrow and sharp-nosed for cutting through the sea. Not like the fat flat-bottomed ships they made in Shipwrights. Her sails lay scattered around her decks, the mainsail even lying half over her port side and dragging in the sea. Men were scurrying around the deck, already lowering boats into the sea in an almighty hurry.

Across the ocean, the setting sun finally touched the horizon. The first boat from the ship landed heavily in the sea and immediately struck away. Jerric had his breath back now, but he couldn't stop watching. The second boat splashed into the water. Men still on the deck jumped after it, even as the boats started to row away. Jerric could see them thrashing among the waves, sinking, drowning. He'd seen a ship in the harbour catch fire and burn once, years ago. It had looked exactly like this. Men throwing themselves overboard, preferring the cold kiss of the sea to being burned to death. Sailors running in mortal fear of their lives. The only difference being that this Taiytakei ship wasn't aflame, not even a wisp of smoke. So why were they running?

The tip of the sun dipped below the sea. Shouts wafted across the water, turning into terrified screams. One by one, Jerric saw the sailors on the deck of the Taiytakei ship crumple and fall. He stared. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes. The deck became silent and still.

He was about to get moving again when he caught a glimpse of something else. A figure wreathed in shadow, too far away to tell if it was even human. It came up from the back of the ship, walked to one side, the side closest to the harbour, paused there for a few seconds, then slipped back into the darkness below. The harbour fell quiet.

Jerric watched for a minute longer. When nothing else moved, he picked up his feet and ran on. His legs felt heavy and reluctant. They wanted to take him home, away from the sea and into the heart of the city. To a warm tavern somewhere. One with plenty of beer.

Instead, he ran down to the Sea Gate and into the harbour, across to the offices of the harbour-master in the northern corner. The dockside militia were already in their boats, but the Wrecking Point Watch had done its duty. They might as well not have bothered. As the Taiytakei boats drifted in to the shore, lifeless and still, it was obvious even to Jerric that every single sailor was dead.

2 ndMoon Day, Month of Floods

Kurotos beckons. Two more days. Wind has turned against us and grows stronger. I smell a storm.

3 rdTower Day, Month of Floods

Gods! The storm is finally broken and we are, for the most part, still alive. Three hands lost and no sign of the Dread’s Revenge for twenty miles. Hard to imagine she was wrecked with Kaibel at the helm, but the storm was a hard bastard. Takis were up to their tricks in the hold before it broke, all wailing and moaning. Would have thrown them overboard but then the storm hit like a wall. Two days of constant battering before it let us go. Now it’s broken, we lose another day making good. Tomorrow we begin our search for the Dread.

3 rdMage Day, Month of Floods

No sign of the Dread. Can’t tell the crew, but we’re lost. Taki charts make no sense and most of ours stayed on the Dread. Takis can help me read them or feed the fish. Their choice.

3 rdCouncil Day, Month of Floods

Takis are all dead. Weather fine, wind fresh.

3 rdMoon Day, Month of Floods

Still no sign of the Dread. No sign of land either. Storm could have blown us a hundred miles either way. Have set a course North. Kurotos has to be there somewhere. Under full sail, the Flying Shark ought to get us back in sight of land in two days, even at the worst.

I've stared at the stars for two whole nights now. They ought to tell me where we are. They ought, at least, be familiar. They're not. How can they not be the stars I know?

Weather fine, wind fresh.

The banging on the door in the middle of the night was a good clue that something was going on. It was a loud, persistent banging that quickly added in some shouting for good measure.

“Hoy! Thief-taker! Syannis the thief-taker!”

“Oi! Shut your faces!”

That would be the crazy man across the yard. The one who kept snakes and made potions out of their venom. Syannis rubbed his eyes. The banging didn't stop.

“For the love of the Sun!”

The thief-taker got up. He opened the shutters and peered out of his tiny room down into the yard below. Four soldiers were there. Imperials, with swords and armour and everything. They were banging on his door. Or, strictly, they were banging on the door of the Four Horses where he happened to be renting a room. Banging and waking everyone up and loudly telling the world that he, Syannis, who made a point of keeping himself to himself among the patrons of the Four Horses, made a living taking thieves.

He opened his mouth to yell at them, then paused. Gangs of soldiers in the middle of the night? Did he really want to even admit he lived there? Thief-taking made a man as many enemies as it did friends.

The soldiers didn't look up. “Syannis! Thief-taker! Rouse yourself!” They weren't kicking the door in though. That was something.

“Right!” Across the yard, the face of crazy-snake-man appeared at a window. He was clutching something. A pot. A. .

Syannis' eyes widened, as crazy-snake-man threw the contents of his chamberpot out across the yard, dousing the soldiers. The thief-taker ducked inside. He had his sword, next to his bed. And then there was the heavy crossbow that his old friend from the small kingdoms, Kasmin, lovingly called The Leveller.

In the other bed, Kasmin stirred and groaned and sat up. Outside, the banging stopped. The soldiers' voices were clear, though, echoing through the square outside.

“Who. ?”

“What the Sun?”

Without haste, Kasmin picked up The Leveller and loaded it. Syannis pulled on a pair of trousers and fumbled for his ringmail vest made of sunsteel, the one thing of value he'd never managed to lose.

“Oh, you're going to wish you hadn't done that!”

With a yawn he didn't bother to hide, Kasmin padded to the window and poked his head out. “Oi. You lot.” he waited a moment until he had their attention. “Can either I or this heavy crossbow induce you gentlemen to keep the noise down?”

The shouting stopped. Syannis pulled the ringmail over his head and went to his window again. In the moonlight, the soldiers looked pale and furious. The first whiff of chamberpot crept up into the night air.

“You Syannis?”

Kasmin shook his head. Syannis rested a hand on Kasmin's shoulder. “Me. I'm Syannis. What do you want?”

“Thief-taker! By command of Justicar Kol, you are to come with us immediately!” The soldier at the front was looking up, but the ones behind him were all glaring at crazy-snake-man's window. They were muttering to themselves.

“You care to offer me some sort of reason?”

The soldier at the front held up a tiny leather bag. “The emperor's face.” Two of the soldiers at the back turned and strode towards crazy-snake-man's door. As Syannis watched, they kicked it in. Kasmin sniffed.

“You think we should warm them about the snakes?”

Syannis let that stew for a moment. Should he?

Kasmin shrugged. “I'm not saying anything. Bastards woke me up.”

“And now everyone knows what we are, we're probably going to be looking for another place to live.”

“They're the emperor's soldiers, after all. Not likely to be troubled by a few snakes, eh?” Kasmin laughed. There was always a warmth to that. Syannis had grown up listening to Kasmin laugh, once, a long time ago.