Chapter 2

Garrett made his way towards Farkus's shop. Since his meeting with him early in his career as a thief, Garrett had relied on the shop keeper for the necessary tools of his trade. Farkus, like the thief himself, was an independent, and could be relied upon to keep silent about the large purchases that could signal the start of a mission. The shopkeeper kept a shop, called Farkus's Functionals, at Newmarket, practically on a main highway through the district. Newmarket was not a particularly savoury area, but it was still patrolled by the City Guard, and the Hammerite night-watchmen. If Farkus was ever suspected, the shop would be a death trap.

Garrett had chosen to go to the shop at late evening, when the crowds would be few, but large enough to conceal his presence from inquisitive eyes. He wore a light cloak, sufficient to cover the few things he intended to purchase from Farkus for use in his next mission. Most of the wine bottles had sold well, to a middleman of a thief's-pawn reputed to have links with Constantine, the mysterious new arrival to the City. Since the Tanner job Garrett had been out of work, but he had heard of a Blackbrook Underguild Ambassador, Dorcas Goodfellow, who traded in medicinals and elemental crystals. Things like this could fetch a high price on the market, and Garrett needed the money to pay the rent on his small apartment. He had heard that the City Hospital, and its bureau the Department of Public Health, had recently received a consignment of gas crystals for use as anaesthetics during their operations on the wealthy nobles who could afford their treatment.

He was walking over the bridge at Downtown when suddenly he heard a heavy step behind him. He began to turn round, but as he did a blackjack came down and landed with a heavy thwack on his shoulder. His movement had prevented it hitting his head and knocking him unconscious, but it still took him down. He fell heavily to the floor, and then gasped in pain as a metal-toed boot struck him in the stomach. He could hear footsteps as another man came up, and then pain blossomed from his leg as the man stepped on it. Bone cracked, and then the foot came up and kicked Garrett in the head, knocking him unconscious.

The two men stopped hitting the now still body, and one bent down. His practised hands searched the folds of the thief's cloak for the key to his apartment. He pulled out a small purse of gold and tied it to his waist, and was turning back when a contingent of the City Guard came round. Assessing the situation with one quick glance, the leader drew his sword, and shouted for his group to advance. The two assailants, seeing themselves outnumbered and in danger, took to their heels and fled through the labyrinth of the City. The captain and his men chased after them.

When the men had left, a door in the street slowly opened. A young woman's face appeared, lined and grey despite her age, but with sharp eyes and a firm mouth. She took in the scene with one glance, then left the safety of the doorway and advanced towards the still form lying in the road. She bent down to search his pockets, and eventually withdrew a small iron key. She turned it over to look at it, and then pursed her lips in annoyance. The key was unmarked, and probably only the unconscious owner before her knew the location of the lock in which it fitted. She stood still for a moment, then turned around and ran back to the house. She emerged from it again with a companion, a tall man with dark hair, and the same sharp eyes as the woman. Together they walked to the body, hoisted it over their shoulders, and carried it into the house. The door closed after them on a silent street.

Garrett awoke with a start, and looked around him. He was lying in a small, stone room, with a wooden floor and a plaster ceiling through which varnished beams protruded. The room was lit with a single torch which spluttered loudly and cast a dancing orange flame on the other contents of the room. The furniture was scarce: merely the bed he was lying on, some battered old chairs, and some chests situated in a corner. Garrett groaned and tried to sit up, but found he was tied to the bed with ropes of strong cord. The knots were tight and out-of-reach, and the cord was secured to holes bored in the bed. He fell back onto the bundle of rags that was acting as a pillow, and cast his mind back to what had happened. He remembered the thugs who had tried to kill him, the impact of the heavy boot that had knocked him out. He was just trying to remember any more than that when a woman walked into the room, carrying a tray of food.

'Oh, so you're awake are you?', she said, in a light voice that contrasted oddly with her lined face. Garrett would have guessed her age to be fifty by her appearance, twenty by her voice. She was a strange contrast. Her small face was crinkled by fine lines, that wound their way around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was a dusty grey, her skin the pale grey of a city dweller who did not see the sun too often. However, her mouth was firm, and her eyes possessed a sharpness that seemed to cut through whatever she looked at like a knife.

'Where....where am I?' asked Garrett, with a mouth parched dry. She smiled and put down the tray of food, which he could know see contained a portion of bread and cheese, and a tankard of water. He twisted over to look at them, and as he did a man came in. He was tall, and well-built beneath his simple tunic. His face was like the women's, grey and lined yet containing eyes of remarkable clarity. His hands were remarkable, long and slender like those of a musician, or someone else whose employment requires extreme dexterity.

The two talked under their breath for a moment, and then the man drew a short club. The women came forward, and loosened the bonds that held him. She step quickly backwards as Garrett sat up and rubbed his wrists. She indicated the food on the tray that had been set before him. Understanding her intention, he eagerly devoured the food, washing it down with generous drafts of the water. The man standing behind her waited until he was done eating, and then hefted a club that had suddenly appeared in his hands, whilst the woman retied that knots that bound Garrett to the bed.

His leg still hurt abominably, and he could feel the splint that held it straight. However, it was clear that he would be unable to walk for several weeks, and only then with a crutch. The ropes were entirely unnecessary. However, the next day, when the woman came in, the tray also carried a small vial. The woman placed the tray down next to him again, and untied the ropes. Garrett reached out and took hold of the tray, and picked up the vial. He opened it to see a small amount of golden liquid, which seemed to sparkle as it caught the light. It was fairy viscous, clinging stubbornly to the cloth sides of the vial and moving sluggishly about as Garrett rocked it to and fro. He shrugged mentally, figuring that it was unlikely they would go to anything this elaborate to kill him, and poured the contents down his throat. All at once, he felt a tingle in his broken leg, that intensified into a wave of heat that grew hotter until finally it stopped, and then disappeared.

Garrett opened his eyes, not realising he had closed them, and then gasped in astonishment. The pain from his leg had gone, and he found he could move it with ease. He started to get up, but the man hefted his club, and Garrett decided against it. He could see there was no way out, and that with no weapons he was no match for the man. He sat up, slowly, and opened his mouth to speak. However, the question that was forming on his tongue was replaced by a gasp as the woman held up her hand, and revealed his house key dangling from it. His expression of astonishment was then replaced by fear as she held up a sword at him. Abruptly she thrust it out at him, stopping just before she hit him. Garrett was now close enough to see the blade, to see the nicks in it, to see the handle that looked suspiciously like that of his own sword...

The woman laughed as he gazed up at her in surprise, a soft laugh that spoke of the release of tension. The man laughed to, but his vocal contribution was edged with a sinister tone. He smiled, and walked out of the room, to return several moments later with something else under a cloth. With the air of one performing a magical trick, he whipped off the cloth drape to reveal a bottle of wine. In fact, the same bottle that Garrett had so expertly stolen from the manor of Lord Tanner. He had been meaning to sell it, even if it had meant getting less than was possible, but somehow had never found the opportunity. He slumped back on the bed in despair. They now knew he was a thief, and something in their eyes told him that the knowledge would have been better kept from them. The man stooped and drew up a chair a distance from the bed, and lowered himself into it. The woman stood behind him, still grasping Garrett's sword. Then the man began to speak.

It turned out that their motives for helping him had been less than kindness of spirit. They had the key to his house, but no idea where it was. They intended to nurse him to the point where he was able to speak, get the location of what they thought might be a wealthy house, and them dump his body in the sewer. However, one of the man's 'contacts' had dropped by, and recognised Garrett from an earlier occasion. He pointed out his house, and also told them that he was a thief, thought by some to be one of the brightest prospects. Then the pair had had a different idea. The man, it seemed, was called Basso, and was a boxman by trade. This accounted for his long, slender hands, which were perfectly suited for the job of breaking open safes. He was apparently quite accomplished in this field, and for some time had had his eye on an enticing prospect in the City district of OldBridge. A wealthy merchant, whom his sister Sophia worked for as a servant, had recently installed in his bedroom a brand new safe, an event that coincided with a mysterious drop in the merchant's finances. Sophia was a trusted servant, and could get Basso inside the building, but the trouble was that he would soon be spotted and arrested, or worse. The boxman had identified a point in the mansion where it would be possible to get in with a bit of effort, but he needed someone to scout ahead for him, and clear the path to the safe. This was where Garrett came in.

Garrett opened his mouth to refuse, but sight of the woman hefting the sword made him reconsider. He realised that once he started they would use him until he was of no further value, and then discard him. That was an unattractive option, but there were few alternatives. If he rejected their offer his corpse would probably end up in the sewers, but if he accepted an early death was almost certain. He knew how these things worked, and realised that no doubt Sophia had a certain scroll which the City Guard would no doubt be delighted to have. All Garrett's possessions were in the house, as well as his secret stash of savings, and the idea of having the Guard being able to follow his movements was not attractive. Realising the futility of refusing, he accepted.

This was the reason that Garrett found himself outside the merchant's house the next day at the dead of night. OldBridge was an ancient part of the City, probably one of the original districts. The houses were mostly made of wood, with few windows and small doors. Some had been repaired with stone, creating a striking contrast to the yellow and brown plaster in which most of the buildings were covered. A few streetlights existed, mainly at crossroads. They were of the original pattern, reputed to have been built during the theoretical period of time when the Hammerites had controlled the City. They were waist high, a small light element encased in a glass tube. This pattern was repeated in the Old Quarter, and also in the Docks district, where the Bonehoard was located. Rumour said that the catacombs contained a set of Hammer tombs, presumably from when the Order had ruled the City. However, such an event was hidden in the mists of time, and although the Hammerites were now a big influence, they still had little ultimate power compared to the Baron and his City Council.

Basso whistled softly from the shadow in which he had hidden himself, and Garrett sighed and got to work. He had to admit that the boxman had chosen a good spot, with plenty of shadow and a wooden roof in which to shoot a rope arrow. Rope arrows were hard to come by, and expensive, but now they proved their worth as Garrett buried the arrow into the soft wood. He jumped onto it, and climbed steadily up. The roof belonged to a wooden guardhouse, obviously erected after the construction of the main wall that surrounded the home and gardens of the merchant. The thief reached the top of the rope, and looked on the wall for a good landing spot. He eventually found one, and made a flying leap for it. He landed softly, falling forward onto his knees to muffle the sound of his shoes. Sophia had said that the merchant only had guards at the front gate, but Garrett was prepared to take no chances. He stood up and looked over the battlements. A figure detached itself from the shadows, and ran for the rope. He turned away satisfied, but then a hint of red caught his eye. He turned back round, and then swore softly as he saw what had arrested his attention. A Hammerite night-watchman was making the rounds, his lamp in one hand and his hammer in the other. Basso had not yet finished his ascent, and if the guard saw him while he was still visible....

No sooner than Garrett thought this than it happened. The watchman abruptly stopped, and started to peer in the direction of the rope. He hefted his lamp higher, while Basso froze on the rope in an effort to remain unseen. Garrett swore again. It was vital to keep moving in these situations, to make the man think he had only seen a rat or the moving of a tree. The end came when suddenly the Hammerite made out the form of a man on the rope. He shouted in alarm, and Basso made a desperate effort to ascend the rope and get away. However, he tugged on the rope too hard, and it parted from the arrow, the shaft splintering with a clear crack as the knot at the end was pulled out. Basso fell the ten feet, landing with a crash. He must have struck his head on the pavement, for blood suddenly appeared and Basso made no effort to move. Garrett could see his chest rising and falling, but that was it. The Hammerite moved in cautiously with his hammer, and prodded the prone figure with it. Seeing that he posed no immediate threat he drew a whistle from his pocket, and blew three blasts on it that would have woken anyone in the immediate neighbourhood. Garrett didn't wait to see what happened. He dropped down from the battlements into a shadow in the street, and ran off while the watchman turned round to see what had caused that sound of metal hitting stone...

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