Vesper had filled Alard in on everything he knew, excluding a few select facts, such as him being assigned the job of assassinating Alard. Thankfully, Alard appeared to trust Vesper and revealed what was going on with the Thieves Guild.

“We are secure. The Harvest Guild members are well taken care of, and Captain Dirk is exceptional, so I am confident that the guild is safe from any kind of immediate attack, especially from Saxe.” Alard’s strides were so long that Vesper had to almost jog to keep up. “Yet there are so many unknowns.”

“Indeed. I sense that Orion will kill Larsen, but I don’t know who would do that with me unavailable to do the deed. A botched assassination of Larsen by Orion would be a bigger disaster for him than anything.”

“Too many unknowns,” Alard repeated, his deep voice soft and thoughtful, yet still somehow sounding loud.

“Well, we can’t make decisions just waiting for things to become clearer.”

“You aren’t making any decisions,” Alard growled. “But your sentiment is correct. Our immediate plan of escape is sound, but escape is not helpful at this point.” They walked in silence.

Vesper was going to recommend any number of things, but all of them failed due to the fact that Alard was an enemy of practically every guild in Ness. That led Vesper to a thought of at least lightening the moment. “So are there any guilds that don’t hate you?”

Alard glanced at Vesper, a frown visible under his brown hood. “No.”

“How did you achieve that? It must take a special talent to make everyone hate you.” Vesper held up a finger, “And don’t tell me it’s because you are a Thief. Everyone loved Pietro, and he was your guildmaster for many years.”

Alard nodded. “It is true. I did not deserve Guildmaster Pietro’s kindness.” There was another moment of silence, and then to Vesper’s shock, Alard answered him. “The Knights and Rangers hate me because I saved an Outlander family from being massacred. Orion hates me because I am a Thief, and he does not consider me harmless like Pietro. Of course, he didn’t realize that Pietro ended up being much more formidable than I ever could be. Polo hates me for similar reasons as Orion, although Polo knows of the Outlander story and hates me for that, as well. Larsen hates me because I protect and serve his younger brother.”

“Well, that about sums it up.” Alard nodded. “How many people know the Outlander story? I had only heard that you betrayed the Knights.”

“They twist the story to defend their integrity, but I know the truth. There was a family of Outlanders. They lived in the plains and were starving, so they moved their camp close to Ness. I’m sure they planned on raiding the Outer Fields at some point, but at the time they were just camping not far from Executioner’s Hollow.”

Alard rubbed his head through his hood, and then continued. “I was a Captain and sent to investigate a sighting from one of the White Guard. I was with five other Knights, and we found a weakened man and his wife, along with three children. I told my men to spare them, but the law of the Knights is to kill all Outlanders. I fought my men, and hurt two of them, although not seriously.

“Saxe banished me from the guild and sentenced me to die for betrayal, but Pietro stepped in and saved me. To this day I do not know what he said to Saxe, but I was free and wearing the black minutes after Pietro’s visit.”

“How many know this story?” Vesper asked, amazed to hear it directly from Alard’s own mouth.

Alard shrugged. “Very few know the real story. Many know the story of my betraying the Knight Guild for the benefit of Outlander brigands.”

“So why did you tell me the story?” Vesper felt like Alard had trusted him with something extremely special.

Alard peered at Vesper, and then replied, “Because you wield information like you wield a dagger—Only when needed and with great precision. When you need to wield this information, you will, but I know that when you do it will be for a reason that I would approve.”

Without thinking, Vesper replied, incredulous, “Why would you think that?”

“Because I know how you think. You will align yourself with the winning side.” Smiling, Alard added, “Would you like to hear an additional secret?”

Vesper leaned toward Alard, whose voice dropped to a whisper with the previous question. “Yes. What is it?”

“We will be the winning side.”

The two reached the Warehouse District without any problems, although they were accosted a few times by guild guards. Vesper’s first big decision came when they turned down the massive road that ran among the collection of huge warehouses that hugged the eastern part of the Great Wall. Craft Tower was close enough that Vesper could see Orion’s office window on the top floor.

The presence of armed Craft Guild guards was heavy, and Vesper could easily have Alard captured. He was a mighty warrior and would kill several guards, but they would eventually overwhelm him. With Orion close, Vesper could do even better than assassinate Alard, he could have him captured.

Yet he was still uncertain. The organization and secretive nature of the Thieves made him think that they may prevail. Alard interrupted Vesper’s thoughts by saying, “There is a large sewage entrance near here. It is used by our guild to move stolen goods under the Lower Quarter to safe houses, where they are distributed and eventually moved to the Old Quarter.”

“So we will use that passage to return to the Tower?” At the thought of the Tower, Vesper lost all interest in turning Alard in. He didn’t understand its power and draw over him, but he recognized it. Perhaps it was that he finally had found a guild that was the closest to his life—one of intrigue and secrecy—and the Tower, in plain view yet hidden, represented that to him.

“No.” Alard’s voice was low and deep, and he was continually scanning the people they passed, as they walked past large wagons pulled by draft horses and men and women that smelled like leather soap, burnt wood, and iron. “We will pause there. We have guild members there guarding the entrance. We will stop, gather information, and then decide on our future steps.”

They turned past one of the largest warehouses. It contained rough spun clothes used by the majority of the citizens of Ness. The clothes were produced in a work building on the other side of the large street and then died guild colors in building next to the warehouse. The smell of the dye filled the street, just like the smell of cured leather filled the street further up, and the smell of fire and iron filled the part of the street they had just passed.

They walked along a small road that had little use beyond acting as a way to get from the front of the warehouse to the back or to access the Wall from the major road in the front.

“No guards,” Vesper stated.

“They fear to patrol here.”

Alard didn’t elaborate, so Vesper pushed the point. “Why?”

“There is a rumor that the fumes from the dye is poisonous. No one walks near the dye house. If you were to enter the warehouse, you would see that most of the goods are stacked on the wall farthest from the dye. No one wants to smell it. It is considered one of the lowliest jobs in the Craft Guild to work the dye, a death sentence in fact.”

The smell of the dye was overwhelming as they walked between the dye house and the warehouse. Vesper covered his mouth with his hand, which elicited a smile from Alard. “Is it poisonous?”

“No. The Thieves Guild runs the dye house. We move people in and out regularly, with messages left that the former workers had died. Then we move them into our service in the Old Quarter. This is our single most important location for handling the things we steal.”

“I had not heard of deaths in the warehouses,” Vesper said, awe in his voice.

“Of course not. The Harvest Captains know but are afraid Orion will move the dye house outside the wall if he found out, causing many problems. So they keep it from him. And the guild members who work there fear reprisal if they speak up.”

“But what of the guards? They clearly know.”

Alard shrugged. “Everyone looks out for themselves.”

“Except the Thieves,” Vesper said.

“We take so we can give,” Alard replied.

They reached the back of the dye house, and there was a wooden shed that was surrounded by what looked like old and rancid dye. It was in open containers and stunk so badly of sharp-smelling dye that Vesper’s eyes started to water. “With what you just told me, this may be the most well-defended entrance to a secret passage in Ness.” Vesper chuckled.

“Perhaps.”

They walked through a wooden door that looked like it was going to fall off its hinges, yet moved as smoothly as a door in one of the pubs in the Upper Quarter. Inside were barrels, although the smell of dye was considerably less. Alard walked deliberately around them, as if he had walked the path many times, and as Vesper followed, they came upon a staircase leading down. It was wide and solid, enough for four men to walk side-by-side while descending.

It was much longer than Vesper had anticipated, and at the bottom there were double iron doors. They opened as Alard approached. A man wearing black and the common sign of a Captain—a single accent strip around his right sleeve—strode forward. He was massive. Not massive like Alard, who was tall and strong, but massive in that he was broad and thick at every part of his body. He wasn’t necessarily tall, but he looked like the kind of man that you knew would end up bloodied but standing in a bar fight.

“Kalos!” Alard said, uncharacteristic warmth in his voice. “I had no idea you’d be managing the Thoroughfare. Is there an important shipment happening?” Alard peered toward the room behind the door.

“Deputy!” The man named Kalos strode forward and rather than shake Alard’s hands, threw his mighty arms around him in a hug. Parting, Kalos shook his head. “More like multiple shipments. That idiot Orion has all his guards keeping an eye on the chaos in the Lower Quarter, so with the cats away—” Kalos spread his arms and smiled, as if he was doing something naughty but no one could blame him. Vesper finally caught Kalos’ eye. “Who’s this?”

“Orion’s Blade.”

Kalos tensed and his smile turned to a face that was intimidating in its intensity of restrained violence, but that quickly returned to a smile. “I had low expectations of the rascal, Ralan, but if he turned a Blade to our guild? I have to hand it to him.”

“Guildmaster Ralan,” Alard said, his voice serious.

“I apologize, Deputy. Of course.” Turning to Vesper, Kalos said, “So Blade, what’s your name?”

“Vesper.” He rather liked Kalos, but there was no need to let him know that. So he kept his answers short, and his voice sharp.

“Anything I can help you with?” The question surprised Vesper. He had expected to be ignored in the presence of the Deputy Guildmaster. The Thieves Guild continued to appear very different than what he was used to.

Nodding to Alard, Vesper replied, “I await orders.”

Alard spoke up. “We have both been indisposed and need updated news. My mission was to find out from Vesper what he knew, and I have done that. I was planning on both of us returning to the Tower, but I will not make that decision until we are current on what is happening.”

“So it shall be. There is a meeting room down the hall. Follow me.” Kalos led the two of them through the door, which opened onto a massive room, larger than the dye house above it. Stacked nearly floor to ceiling in the room were clothes, weapons, household items, and a variety of things that were necessary for living in Ness and yet unavailable to its poor and those in the Old Quarter.

They entered a small, spare room with a desk pushed against a wall, and a few chairs facing it. Alard walked in and leaned back against the desk, while Kalos pulled up a chair and motioned Vesper to sit.

He proceeded to outline what Vesper considered the worst possible outcome: Larsen was dead. Karch was missing. And Orion’s nephew Keres was now running the Merchant guild. If that weren’t bad enough, Keres had spread the news that he was apologizing for Larsen’s misdeeds and welcoming back the Harvest Guild. He had offered to rebuild the houses that had burned, and provide for those that were displaced.

“Orion looks to isolate the Thieves,” Vesper said, which elicited a solemn nod from Alard.

“Wait. Orion knows of the existence of our guild?” Kalos looked dumbfounded.

“It is the information Vesper has provided us,” Alard replied. “It would have been impossible with so many streaming into the Old Quarter, but Orion found out sooner than we had hoped.”

“Of course, of course,” Kalos replied, rubbing his chin. “Will the Harvest Guild members return to their homes and embrace Keres?”

Vesper looked at Alard, but he remained silent. “I don’t know,” Vesper finally replied.

“We need to know, and Guildmaster Polo needs to know. You have your new mission, Vesper,” Alard suddenly said, his deep voice filling the room like the pounding of a drum. Kalos and Vesper looked at him. “I cannot approach Polo. He knows me. His guild knows me. They will imprison me on sight. You,” Alard pointed at Vesper, “however, they do not know.”

“It is a lost cause,” Vesper replied. “I attempted to reach Polo to assassinate him.” Vesper said it casually, which he knew would shock Kalos and was a response that he liked to elicit, keeping others—friend and enemy—off guard. “It is impossible. Harvest House is small but insurmountable. The walls move under your feet. The vines work to toss you off while you climb them. There is only one path to Polo, and it is guarded by too many with no secret passages or shadows to reach him.”

“I did not say you were to assassinate him,” Alard replied. “You are to reach him and inform him of what is happening. We have tried with our own Blade, and she is currently missing. We don’t know how well-informed Polo is. We can assume he knows much, but this information is coming from the ground in the Lower Quarter. Polo may be missing the larger political machinations of Orion.”

“I can get you to the Harvest District,” Kalos interjected. “We rarely go there as there is no reason to, but there is a path—not a pleasant path, but a path—under the North Fork.”

Vesper didn’t like the mission because he considered it well outside his expertise. He could kill. He could spy. He could even torture and destroy. But having a diplomatic conversation with a guildmaster was not something he had ever done before.

He once again considered the lay of the land. Orion had made a bold move, one that in one stroke had significantly threatened the Thieves—they were potentially isolated, with all of the guilds not only against them, but knowing of their existence and their base of operations. The wildcard was Polo. If Polo joined with Orion and his nephew and Saxe, there was no hope for the Thieves.

But would Polo do that? Did he see the end game? If he helped his guild members in the Lower Quarter in the short run, would that destroy the guild in the long run? He knew precious little about the old Harvest Guildmaster, who mostly kept to himself and was only the target of Orion’s attention after Ralan ruined his and Larsen’s plans.

In the end, Vesper realized he didn’t have to make an immediate decision. He could abandon the Thieves at any time. If he did reach Polo, he could even make the decision then, delivering Polo to Orion or Ralan at his will. That final thought was very appealing, and Vesper finally replied, “I will contact Polo, but I need guidance on this mission.”

“Yes?” Alard replied.

“The mission is unclear: Inform Polo of the wider danger to his guild from Orion and Keres is not specific enough. What is the goal of the mission?”

Alard stared at Vesper for a long time until he shook his head and replied, “You are a formidable man, Vesper. The goal is to have Polo reject any offering from Orion or Keres. We need Polo to remain isolated so that our guild can find a plan forward without facing eradication. I do not expect Polo to embrace the Thieves. I do not expect you to convince him of the good of our mission.” Alard crossed his arms. “I expect you to fan the flames of hatred that Polo has toward Orion. I don’t care how you do it.”

Vesper stood up. “That I can do.”