Jeff Crook - The Thieves’ Guild

Gaeord mopped his brow with a green silk handkerchief, then nervously tugged at the gold chain dangling around his neck. He had not shaved, having been awakened before dawn by his footman with the report of the break-in, and now his jowls itched abominably. He glanced from the Thorn Knight to Mistress Jenna, but her severe gaze only served to turn his blood to ice. She must know already, without his having said a word. His news must necessarily displease her, since what was stolen was hers. She had ordered and already paid (quite handsomely) for it the previous autumn. Then again, she might be his saving grace. The special dispensation concerning all things magical that Mistress Jenna enjoyed might shield him from Sir Arach. He could hardly be convicted of smuggling dangerous magic if he was but the carrier for someone who enjoyed immunity from the law.

He cleared his throat as he stuffed the handkerchief into the sleeve of his pajamas. “It was a quantity-mind you, a small quantity-of dragonflower pollen,” he said, ending with a nervous laugh he hoped would seem nonchalant.

“Dragonflower pollen!” Sir Arach exclaimed. “I am surprised at you, Master Gaeord. I had thought you limited your activities to more mundane contraband. Little did I suspect that you were importing the most illegal substance in Palanthas. The pollen of the dragonflower grows only in the Dragon Isles, where it is death for mortals to tread. In small amounts, it prolongs life and returns the flush of youth. Greater quantities, I’m sure you know, bring madness and death.”

“It was for a friend,” Gaeord pleaded, staring at Mistress Jenna. The Thorn Knight followed the direction of Gaeord’s gaze.

“Ah, that explains the presence of the renowned Mistress Jenna,” Sir Arach said.

“Yes, it was for me,” she finally admitted without apology. “I funded the expedition "to the Dragon Isles, not Master Gaeord, though it was his ship and crew. I can’t afford a second expedition. I want the pollen returned to me at once, and,” she added to the Thorn Knight, “I expect you to see that the Thieves’ Guild is punished most severely.”

“Who said anything about the Thieves’ Guild?” Sir Arach asked somewhat crossly. “There is no Thieves’ Guild in Palanthas. This is the work of petty criminals, nothing more.”

“Well, whoever they are, I want them caught. You Knights of Takhisis talk about how you maintain law and order. I want to see it in action. If you won’t do it, I certainly will,” Mistress Jenna angrily threatened.

“Yes, and today is Spring Dawning festival,” Gaeord said, trying again to change the subject. “Might we hurry this up? The festivities begin in a couple of hours.”

“I would have been finished by now, if you had been honest with me from the beginning and if others wouldn’t keep interrupting!” Sir Arach snarled. “If I might have a few moments to examine this room, I think I might be able to move forward with my investigation. Do try to stay out of my way.”

With that, the Thorn Knight sank to all fours and began to crawl this way and that over the floor, pressing his nose into corners, laying his face on the flagstones, and staring for long minutes at things the others could not see. Occasionally, some exclamation of surprise or discovery escaped his lips, but only once during the course of his odd caperings did Sir Arach speak, to ask, “How often is this floor polished?”

“Daily,” Gaeord answered.

Nodding, the Thorn Knight removed a pouch from a pocket of his robe and struck it against the floor. A cloud of fine white dust erupted from it and settled on the floor. He examined it for a moment, nodded again, then turned his attention to the loft door. He stood in the embrasure for some moments staring down into the reflecting pool below, then turned his attention to the inner walls, then the outside of the wall above the opening. Lastly, he lifted the doors’ wooden bar and examined it in detail.

He crossed the room and carefully studied the entrance from the hallway, taking special care around the door’s brass lock and running his fingers along the edges of the doorframe.

That accomplished, he finished his examination at the pool of blood where he had begun. He knelt beside it, then dipped the tip of his finger into it. He held the sample up to the light and peered at it with one eye shut, sniffed it, and popped the blood-smeared finger into his mouth.

“Gods!” Gaeord said in disgust. Mistress Jenna turned away, exasperated.

Sir Arach looked at them, still sucking his finger. Almost apologetically, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and rose to his feet. “The final test. Had to be sure,” he said by way of explanation.

“Test for what?” Jenna scowled.

“Cause of death,” he said.

“Whose death?”

“I think if Gaeord can have his servants drag the reflecting pool, we may discover the answer,” Sir Arach said.

“So what happened?” Gaeord asked.

“Two thieves entered this chamber, one by the door from the hallway-one of them had a key. The lock has not been picked, neither has the door been jimmied. The other thief must have entered through the loft.”

“Impossible!” Gaeord exclaimed. “He would need wings!”

“I am afraid it is only too probable. The bar was lifted with a knife, as evidenced by the groove at its exact center. Were the bar raised from within this room, there would be no cut in the wood.”

“Perhaps he did have wings,” Jenna conjectured, her brows wrinkling together suspiciously. “Perhaps he used magic to fly.”

“If he had such power, he could also have lifted the bar with his magic. No, this was a common thief,” Sir Arach said. “I suspect that he dropped from above.”

“From the sky?” Gaeord laughed. “The roof was patrolled by my best guards, and all entrances were closely watched. What you suggest is impossible.”

“The simple fact remains,” Sir Arach said drily, “that two thieves, two thieves sir, did enter your house. It is pointless to argue that they couldn’t have done it, for they did! If I can answer how, it might lead us to who.”

“Go on,” Jenna impatiently ordered.

The Thorn Knight glared at Gaeord for another moment, then continued, “Having entered the chamber, he found it occupied by another of his profession. A scuffle ensued. You can see the palm print on the floor there, where I dusted with powder, as well as a streak where one of the two slid across the floor. Having wrestled, the one killed the other with a dagger through the eye.”

“How do you know that?” Jenna asked.

“By tasting the blood, I was able to detect the presence of eye fluid as well as brain fluid. I have made extensive study of bodily fluids and trained my senses to detect over three hundred different kinds. I can tell the blood of a dog from that of a man by smell alone. Mixed fluids need a more involved sampling.”

“It’s disgusting,” Gaeord muttered involuntarily.

“It proves nothing,” Jenna added.

“On the contrary, it proves that one of the two died, and since his body is not in this room, it must lie in the reflecting pool. His identity might lead us to that of his enemy, but I doubt it. In any case, having procured the dragonflower pollen… you have noticed, I am sure, that he stole only the dragonflower pollen, and left all these other valuable commodities behind him, which suggests a commissioned theft-actually, two commissioned thefts…” he paused, gazing from beneath his heavy lids at Mistress Jenna.

She noticed the accusation in his stare, and her face turned crimson with anger. “You dare!” she hissed.

“Who besides yourself and Master Gaeord knew of the precious stuff?” Sir Arach asked.