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A well-dressed man clothed in silk and cotton had entered the room, flanked by two others who strode in his wake. The man was middle-aged and greying, though he possessed an obvious vitality that the years had yet to touch. He smiled and Lucius immediately formed the impression of both confidence and trustworthiness. Of course, having spent time with any number of con artists and tricksters, he had learned to be on his guard when confronted by such people, but this man also had an obvious command of, and respect from, the other thieves present. His face was rounded and non-descript, except for his eyes which seemed to constantly sparkle with amusement.

  The two men who flanked him were almost the complete opposite. Dressed in black leather with long knives at their belts, both exuded an aura of menace. Lucius thought, if there were such a thing as natural born killers, these two would be the definition.

  It was not until the man was among the thieves and clamping a hand on the shoulder of one who had been on Caradoc's mission that Lucius heard someone thank him by name and understood who he was. So this was Magnus, the guildmaster of the Night Hands. Despite all the time Lucius had spent in the guildhouse recently, he had yet to meet the man, though he had heard plenty of stories about him. He recalled Ambrose once telling him that Magnus had been a lieutenant in the old Thieves Guild. When the guild had broken apart, it had been Magnus who had tried to centralise the scattered thieves into a new organisation, at great risk to his life from the guard and other, less pleasant forces. If half of what Lucius had heard was true, then he thought this would be a very easy man to admire.

  After shaking another thief by the hand, Magnus turned towards Lucius, and smiled.

  "And this would be our newest recruit then. Lucius, isn't it?"

  "Uh, yes sir," said Lucius, unsure of how to address the guildmaster.

  Magnus waved the honorific away, though Lucius was acutely aware of the attention of his two bodyguards, who seemed to be itching for him to make one aggressive move.

  "Just Magnus, please," he said. "You've done well tonight. Brink represents a significant account for us, and the return of his business is worthy of congratulations. I believe you are staying here now — eat and drink well tonight, you've earned it."

  "Thank you, err, Magnus," Lucius said, as graciously as he could, though ale and discomfort vied to tie his tongue.

  "Get some sleep too. Then come upstairs tomorrow, feel free to explore the place. Perhaps we'll speak further." One of his bodyguards whispered something into Magnus' ear that escaped Lucius hearing. Magnus sighed.

  "Ah, that's right. I am afraid I must leave you all now." He looked back at Lucius with a smile. "Pressure of the job you know, they never let up. Welcome, Lucius, I have a feeling you will do well for us here."

  As Magnus swept out of the room, the others clustered about Lucius, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Through their own celebrations, it took them a while to see that Lucius was thoroughly confused as to what was happening. It was Ambrose who took him to one side to explain.

  "You've done well, lad," he said. "I knew you would."

  "I don't follow."

  "Caradoc must have given a glowing report of you while getting his leg mended. Only senior thieves, those who are full members of the Hands, are permitted beyond the ground floor. You, my friend, are now a true thief!"

  Lucius smiled nervously as Ambrose thrust another mug into his hand before calling upon the entire common room to toast him. Raising his mug in return, Lucius thanked the thieves and, ignoring a wag calling for a speech, sank back into his chair, happy to listen to his peers talk business for the rest of the evening.

  Morning came too soon for Lucius, and he awoke to find himself in the same chair he had collapsed in a few hours before. A few other thieves were also in the common room, lying insensible, though most seemed to have had the sense to retire earlier on. As Lucius sat up, the world swam for an instant, and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands as he waited for the after effects of the ale to subside.

  His mouth feeling dry and pitted, Lucius stayed in that position until he lost all sense of time. No one else stirred in the common room, though he heard someone snoring softly in a far corner. Shakily, he stood, and wandered out to find water, both to drink and to wash. Running into Ambrose as the veteran thief scoured the kitchen for breakfast, he was invited to take Magnus up on the offer of seeing what else the guildhouse had to offer.

  He spent the rest of the morning exploring the two higher levels of the building, and it seemed as though his eyes grew wider at each new sight. It was only now, when he could see the guildhouse in its entirety as a functioning, well-oiled machine, that he understood just how sophisticated the Night Hands were as an organisation. And how much work it took to keep the guild running on a day to day basis.

  Three rooms were dedicated to maps and charts, scattered over tables, pinned onto walls, and rolled up on shelves that reached to the ceiling, ready for inspection when a mission demanded. The patrol routes of the Vos guard were accurately timed and drawn on one map, allowing any thief to see exactly where blind spots would appear and when. Floor plans of many buildings in Turnitia were collected in the stacks, and Lucius watched another thief pour over one as he devised his next robbery. Information was collected on people as well as structures, and he learned that the libraries were considered to be living things, constantly added to as the guild learned more and more, for the benefit of all its members. A laboratory was present, allowing thieves to make all manner of concoctions, from smoke and sleeping powders, to deadly poisons that would ensure no enemy of the guild would survive for long. There was even a training room, suitably soundproofed with targets for shooting or knife practice, a ring for blade training and, round the edges of the over-sized chamber, a running course across which could be strewn a variety of different obstacles.

  It seemed, too, as though Lucius had not been wholly wrong when he had imagined a guildhouse with links to the sewer system of Turnitia, for that is exactly what this building boasted. Near the underground vaults in which the greatest stolen treasures were kept, as well as the guild's own vast treasury, were several secret passages that took a winding path down into the sewers. These were built to allow members to enter or leave the guildhouse freely, beyond prying eyes.

  Lucius was later drawn back to the armoury, which lay next to the training room. Blades, spears, sections of armour and hundreds upon hundreds of various tools of the trade lay on shelves and in racks.

  He saw a host of weapons of varying lethality and, having been told senior thieves were free to pick and choose from the armoury, started to inspect an incredibly well-crafted crossbow. Honed from a lamination of light but strong woods, a series of lenses in a wooden tube was mounted over the groove that took the bolt. Standing at a window, Lucius found he could adjust the lenses to bring far objects into focus. Fine wires within the tube marked exactly where a fired bolt would strike, should the target be within range. Other weapons soon revealed similar ingenuity, such as the sword whose pommel could be separated to draw a dagger from the hilt — useful if the main blade was ever broken.

  However the weapons were the least of the treasure in this room and Lucius soon found himself exploring the vast cornucopia of tools, such as pots of swordblack used to dull a blade from reflections, dark silk bodysuits that could make even a clumsy thief silent, and the glass-cutting cups Hawk had used to break into Brink's house.

  "There is just something about the mind of a thief that makes him fascinated by these toys," said a voice behind him. Lucius turned to see Caradoc leaning against the door frame.

  "This was where I came as well, when I was brought into the guild proper," he continued. "Though there were far less toys back then."

  "I am not sure I would call that a toy," said Lucius, indicating the crossbow.

  Caradoc smiled. "You'll want to practice with it first. It is not as easy to use as you might think — you have to learn how to use the sights, or your shots will never la
nd anywhere near your target. But I think you are quite wrong about these not being toys. All a good thief really needs is a decent blade, soft boots and his wits, the last being the most vital. It seems as if there is always someone trying to get an advantage, however they can. They come up with an idea, and try to build it. Some work. Some need constant revision, with many minds applying themselves to the problem over time. Which, really, is what this place is all about."

  Lucius nodded in understanding. "How long have you been with the Hands?"

  "Since the beginning. I knew Magnus from the old guild, and he brought me with him when he created the Hands."

  "You are close friends, then?"

  Caradoc paused and frowned. "We trust each other, certainly."

  "You… don't always agree with what he does?" Lucius asked, wondering where the boundaries were in this conversation. For some reason, he knew he would never have been so direct with Magnus, though the guildmaster seemed far more personable than his lieutenant.

  "You don't always have to agree with your leader," Caradoc shrugged. "He knows I'm not an automaton. The important thing is that he trusts me to follow his orders, and I trust him to do what is best for the Hands. That is what we have in common — a desire to make the Hands the best guild it can be."

  "So what about the other? The Guild of Coin and Enterprise?"

  For a moment, Caradoc looked as though he might spit in disgust, before he remembered where he was. "Well, that is where Magnus and I may differ. He believes we can reach an accord, dividing the city between us without bloodshed. He says it is the most profitable route for both organisations, and I guess I can see the sense of that."

  "They don't seem very receptive to that idea," Lucius said.

  "No. Once, maybe up to a year ago, we might have made an agreement. But something has changed within the Guild. They are too aggressive, pushing too hard." He sighed. "I fear a war is coming. This might not have been the best time for you to join us!"

  "I can take care of myself."

  "You proved that last night. Look…" Caradoc seemed self-conscious as he mustered his next words. "I wanted to thank you for stepping in yesterday. Those mercs were tough, and I am not sure I could have taken them all. You did well."

  Lucius blushed and he felt as uncomfortable as Caradoc looked when confronted with this gratitude. "Anybody else would have done the same."

  "Well, you were there and they weren't. Thanks anyway," Caradoc said, looking at the floor. "What was it, flash powder you used to distract them?"

  Not trusting his voice to carry the lie, Lucius just nodded.

  "Good move. Painful stuff too, when shoved in someone's face. Still, that bastard deserved what he got."

  Not having anything more to add, Lucius simply smiled, and the expression was returned by Caradoc. Neither said anything more, and Lucius pretended to look over the crossbow again, doing anything to break the uncomfortable silence. He looked up again when Caradoc coughed.

  "Anyway, there's a meeting going on. Magnus asked me to fetch you."

  "Me?"

  "Just routine business. Magnus thinks that it would be good for you to see how the guild operates."

  "Well, if Magnus has asked… Who else will be there?"

  "The most senior thieves of the Hands. These meetings are used to track business, spot opportunities, and generally ensure everything continues to run smoothly. Needless to say, your input won't be required. Just watch and learn."

  Leading Lucius up to the third and highest level of the guildhouse, Caradoc took him to Magnus' own meeting hall. Lucius had to bite his tongue to stop from gasping at the sight of the room.

  The walls were covered with carefully sculpted wooden panels, displaying exquisite craftsmanship in their varnish and carving. No rare paintings hid their natural beauty, and Lucius got the feeling that Magnus was, at heart, a man who enjoyed simpler things.

  The room itself, however, was dominated by a long dark wood table, whose polished surface reflected perfectly the light of the oil lanterns standing on pedestals in each corner of the chamber. Around the table were eighteen tall-backed chairs, upon sixteen of which were seated an assortment of men and women. Some Lucius had seen before, passing through the common room, but he did not know any of their names. At the head of the table at the far end of the chamber sat Magnus, and he smiled as they entered.

  "Here comes our hero Lucius — welcome to the Council," Magnus said grandly, and Lucius felt acutely discomforted as all eyes turned on him. Caradoc had taken his seat at the opposite end of the table to Magnus, indicating that Lucius should take the last free chair, halfway along the left edge.

  Lucius was aware of the short woman seated to his right watching him as he sat, and he nodded in greeting. She was perhaps of a similar age to Magnus, but showed few signs of ageing. Her hair was dark and slicked back along her scalp, while her face was marred by a scar that split her lower lip. Feeling there was something disconcertingly serpentine in the way she looked at him, Lucius turned to glance at the man on his other side, but found he had already returned his attention to Magnus.

  Seeing the new arrivals settled, Magnus waved at the group to continue their business. A young man opposite Lucius spoke up.

  "We have started to move prostitutes from the docks to the merchant quarter during evening hours, and this has proved a profitable move. Traders far from home still look for home comforts, and our girls are very good at what they do."

  Magnus grunted, and then sighed. "There is still something distasteful in this operation, I find myself thinking. To profit so directly from human trade — it seems a little too close to slavery for my liking."

  The woman to Lucius' right raised her voice in response. "Better they are in our care than someone else's. Can you imagine how the Guild would treat them? With us, they earn good money, and do so in relative safety."

  "Yes, yes," said Magnus, "as you said before, and that is why I have allowed it to continue thus far. Still, it is something I will keep a close eye on."

  "It is also a mistake to think that all these girls have been forced into the work," the woman continued. "If you have an efficient organisation like ours behind you, there is good money in it — far better than common labour. I hear they even have their own guild in Allantia."

  "You are just too old-fashioned, Magnus," another, younger, woman said, and a few laughs stirred round the table. Even Magnus gave a wry smile.

  "Maybe," he said. "Nate, please continue."

  The young man across from Lucius spoke again. "The Street of Dogs is quiet after Caradoc's mission last night. Brink hasn't shown up for work yet…"

  There were a few more laughs round the table at this.

  "… but I think it will be a while before anyone openly challenges us again."

  "I disagree, and we must not be complacent," said the man to Lucius' left. "Most of us here profit in some way from the Street of Dogs, and I would not see us risk that. Brink could just be a prelude, and if we were to find that those mercenaries were funded by the Guild and not Brink himself, well… I would advocate more direct action against the Guild."

  There were a few murmurs of agreement and Lucius flicked a look at Caradoc, but the lieutenant was staring fixedly at the table in front of him.

  Magnus rapped on the table to regain everyone's attention and the murmurs stopped instantly. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. After a moment's pause, he turned to look at Lucius.

  "What do you think, young man?" he asked. "What would you do about the Guild, were you in our place?"

  Once again, all eyes turned on Lucius, and he felt himself blush. "I… I wouldn't know, exactly," he stammered.

  "Nonsense," Magnus said. "You are clearly an intelligent man, talented enough to be made a senior thief in a matter of weeks. You have your own mind. Speak!"

  Lucius thought hard for a moment. It was, he realised, a good opportunity to play politics, to support the guildmaster, to
start building up his own phalanx of friends and enemies on the Council. He instantly dismissed the idea as foolish and, frankly, beneath him. He did not know nearly enough about the thieves sitting round this table, and he had a feeling Magnus would see through any disingenuous arse kissing.

  "So long as incidents can be contained, I think we should watch and wait. If we act, we cannot take anything back."

  "You're timid, then," said Caradoc, and this burst of shrewishness surprised Lucius until he looked back at Magnus' measuring expression, and guessed this kind of prodding was a play between them, with Caradoc acting as the fall guy.

  "Cautious, yes, not timid," Lucius said carefully. "It might be foolish to tip the scales if the possibility of another solution lies round the corner."

  Lucius winced inwardly as he realised he had just called the opinions of at least some of the Council members foolish, but he continued onwards. "If my advice were sought, I would say we watch to see what the Guild does next, and do what we can to ensure they do not cross the line."

  "Ah ha!" said Magnus. "And where exactly is that line?"

  Smiling, Lucius held the guildmaster's eye steadily. "That, I believe, is what this Council will decide."

  Magnus returned Lucius' smile, then laughed. "Well said."

  The table fell silent for a moment, before the woman seated next to Lucius spoke again. "Are we seeing more pressure round the Five Markets?"

  A hairy man next to Caradoc, who for all the world reminded Lucius of a badger, answered her. "We are still getting kids pressuring our teams. Some have taken to wearing blue scarves, round their heads or arms, though Kerberos alone knows why. Dead give away to the guard."

  "Then they are obviously not worried about the guard. They are likely a warning to intimidate our kids — difficult to concentrate when you know you are being watched, and a collection of blue scarves would tend to stick out in the crowd." He looked up at Magnus. "I recommend we leave it in Ambrose's hands for now. He'll ask for support in the Five Markets if he needs it."

  "Agreed," said Magnus. "Though I would be loathe to send thieves down there. The pickings will be far less than they are used to, and they'll see it as a step down."