Mike Wild - The Clockwork King of Orl

This time Pim did not splutter. But he did stare and then quaff a mouthful of wine so hard that Kali heard him gulp and swallow it down.

"The Forbidden Archive," he repeated slowly. He turned to one of his lieutenants. "Kris Jayhinch, please give the lady a razor to slash her throat with — save herself some time."

"What's the matter, Pim? Too much of a challenge for you? Maybe I should take my request down to the Skeleton Quays, tell the guilds there you were too lily-livered to handle it."

The thieves guild leader's eyes flared darkly for a second. The mention of the Grey Brigade's rival guilds had the effect Kali desired, Pim knowing full well that a loss of reputation was what no guild could afford.

"They would likely tell you the same as I," he said, contemplatively, "but then they are desperate enough to take your business." He rubbed his chin, considering. "I must be mad," he sighed before sucking in a deep breath. "Miss Hooper, do you have any experience of our noble art?"

"If by noble art you mean taking other people's property without their permission, I guess I do, but not in the way you mean."

Pim rose, handing Kali the bulb of wine. "I'll tell you what — there's a little test I have devised for new recruits, and I want you to take it. If you pass, you'll have my help. If you fail, well… I'll think of something appropriate."

Kali took a swig of the wine. "Mister Pim, you've got yourself a deal."

The mention of the test sparked the interest of everyone in the room and, as the thieves guild leader guided Kali through to another chamber, the pair acquired a small entourage of eager spectators. The room into which she was led was larger even than the ballroom — what looked to have been the hotel's reception area — but it had been converted from its original use to function as some kind of obstacle course-cum-training area for the guild. Various vaulthorses, gymnast rings, nets and other paraphernalia had been secured about its edges along with a number of racks containing exotic thieves' tools, but what drew Kali's attention was a small iron cage suspended from the centre of the ceiling, high above the floor. Hanging from a single chain, there was nothing near it and no obvious means to reach it — but Kali guessed that was exactly what Pim's test would require her to do.

"I see you're ahead of me," Pim said, staring up as she did. "The positioning of the cage is an approximation of the high-security containment for Bojangle's Baleful Bells, currently on display in the museum of Scholten. I have stolen them twice, returning them each time so that I might try again — what I like to consider a professional challenge. Said bells are not, of course, present here, merely a personal souvenir of sentimental value, but you should consider it a treasure of equal scarcity. Retrieve it for me and we will talk."

Kali nodded and walked forwards until she stood directly beneath the cage, craning her neck to look up.

"I have to inform you," Pim continued, "that to date not one of my would-be apprentices has managed this feat. Luckily for you, it is not success or failure that I will judge — only the originality of the methods employed in the attempt."

"A-ha," Kali said, not really listening.

"Please feel free to utilise any of the equipment in this room, and any of our tools to be at your disposal. There is a fine selection of gripgloves, pinshoes or spidersocks over here. Some even prefer the jumping jacks…"

"Okay," Kali said. Pim would have regretted turning his back to point out the selection because at that moment she was pulling off her tights.

"There is even a slight possibility of success with the…"

Tights off, Kali crammed the wine bubble she still carried into the toe of one leg, crouched, took in a few huffing breaths and then leapt, straight up. One arm outstretched above her, teeth gritted, she rose two and a half times her height, straight as an arrow, and then flicked the weighted end of the tights through the bars of the cage, grabbing it as it came out and dropped down the other side. Allowing the elasticity of the tights to drop her back down to the floor, she bounced with them, once, twice, three times, then sailed upwards to grab the base of the cage with a grunt. Swinging her legs up, she flipped herself over so that she was sitting on top of the cage, slid her arm in through the bars to retrieve the souvenir, then dropped it towards the floor. That done, she quickly wrapped the tights about herself, rolled down inside them like some carnival gymnast, flipping herself with a neat twist as she neared the floor, and then settled as lightly as a feather right in front of Pim.

The thieves guild leader stared at her through the dancer's tassel now draped over his head. Kali noticed it was labelled PROPERTY OF HELLS' BELLIES. Meanwhile, someone at the back of the room snickered.

"Original enough for you?" Kali said.

Pim coughed and, after a second, coughed again. "I don't know how you did that but you pass, Miss Hooper." He stared down at her now-bared legs. "By the gods," he breathed, "I could use someone like you on my team."

"Sorry, I work alone," Kali said, smiling. "Now, about your help. The Forbidden Archive. How the hells do I get in?"

Pim stared at her, knowing that, his agreement witnessed, he had no choice but to concede to her request. He nodded and led Kali back to the ballroom, but this time to a large table lain with maps and plans of all kinds. The pile reminded Kali of her captain's chest back home and, as was the case with her own papers regarding places that seemed too much of a challenge, Pim found what he was after buried right at the bottom of the pile. He swept away the less challenging plans to reveal a set of architectural drawings that looked to have been there for years, but that didn't matter because what they showed had not changed.

It was the inner workings of the League of Prestidigitation and Prestige.

Pim slammed a gloopy bottle on the corner of the document to keep it flat, and Kali wondered if it contained the remains of the Three Towers' last victim, perhaps kept as a reminder of the difficulty of the task at hand. He traced the confused patterns of lines on the paper — standard builders' marks and strange swirls that had to denote magical input — with his finger, frowning, remembering. "Big John Sinclair went in here… Hamish the Pumps here, and Nimble Neil Halliwell," his finger made a circle and stabbed down "right here. As I said, none returned. At least, not in their original condition."

"So we can safely assume that whatever traps took them down are still in place in those areas," Kali said. "That could be an advantage — knowing what to expect."

Pim drew in a sharp breath, shook his head. "You might know the what of them, but not the where or when. Whatever did for them did for them quickly, and the trigger could be anything — weight, motion, sweat, breath, noise…"

"Difficult to counter all of those," Kali observed. She studied the plans, the bridges that connected the towers, what appeared to be the location of the Forbidden Archive in the third tower, then lowered her own finger. "What about this conduit here?"

Pim smiled. "You have a good eye for possibility. That was exactly what I was going to suggest to you. Its purpose isn't specified on the plans but from what we can tell it's some kind of alchemical dump shaft that empties into the sewers — dangerous but potentially difficult to trap as any waste potions might have, shall we say, unforeseen side effects on the thaumaturgical triggers. But there's a problem — the laboratories dump their waste regularly, every half an hour. The length of that conduit, you'd need to move fast. Very fast."

"All those wands, you'd think they'd just make the waste disappear," Kali sighed. "All right, fast I can do. Question is, will it get me safely inside?"