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VIII The man stood silently by the path, scanning the streets in front of him. When was this man going to turn up anyway? The district was quiet also, although he could hear a party in progress from across the hill. The warm glow of a house opposite washed over him as he waited for the other thief to arrive. After what seemed an hour, he heard a clatter of feet. Running feet. Heavy breathing…panting. Drawing his sword he prepared to face off whoever was coming, when he heard the password recited. A brown-haired man, out of breath and tired was stumbling across the pavings toward him. “About time,” grumbled Hagen’s contact, as Hagen got his breath back. “Sorry,” puffed out Hagen, “Garrett had a little fracas with two Watch officers back at the inn.” “You saw Garrett?” exclaimed the man. “He never shows up anywhere without good reason. Who did he talk to?” “No-one. Well, no-one suspicious anyway.” “Most strange…” commented the contact, his sentence trailing off as he thought deeper on Hagen’s words. “Cesan” he continued, holding his hand out toward Hagen. “Pleasure. Can we begin now? I’m in a bit of rush just now the Watch know I’m about tonight.” “Yes.” Just a few hours till dawn. I’d better be quick if I’m going to pull this off. Hagen was crouched outside the open window of the merchant’s house. Between him and the minor safety of the house’s passageways was a spindly brick guttering, and a drop of 20 metres below. Balance was vital if Hagen was going to survive his first ‘job’ as a thief. He waited until his head stopped spinning after the climb up to his present position before he edged out onto the guttering, being careful to balance the weight of his equipment. Slowly rising, he pushed out his arms to for more balance, then sprinted forward. The street opened out below him, and the astonished cry of a city lowlife made him lose his already thin nerve. He felt himself falling, falling…falling. Thump! Hagen opened his eyes slowly. He hurt so he realised he wasn’t dead, but happiness swept over him when he saw that he had landed on a ledge below the gutter, just under the window. He rubbed his legs as ‘pins and needles’ tingled them. At least nothing’s broken, he thought to himself. Standing up he steadied himself against the stone of the wall. The lowlife had disappeared from view, round the corner of one of the other buildings in the cramped street. Glancing up Hagen got his bearings, then jumped up to grab the window ledge. It was made of wet, rotten wood, which oozed through his fingers as he pulled himself up. The room was dark, but Hagen felt happier that there weren’t any tiles interspersing the carpet. Next to him stood a table, ornately carved with pictures of birds. Taking the money pouch from the top of the table Hagen moved on, picking the lock on the room door. He had learned that little trick from his time as a Watch officer, but the only time he had ever used it was when he led a raid on an Asthant smuggler’s warehouse. Truart had honoured him then; he remembered the medal being pinned onto his tunic in the city square, the cheering crowds, the clapping, but most of all the beaming face of his wife. Things had not been the same since she had died… Arthur J Silverton sat up in bed with a jerk, a cold piece of metal pricking his spindly spine. Before he could scream a rag had covered his mouth, and the intruder spoke. “Quiet.” “Hummf. Hummf rummf wummf.” “I don’t want any trouble. Tell me what I need to know and you might live through this. Nod your head if you want to live.” Silverton complied with the strangers order, nodding his head a little too enthusiastically. “Right. Stand up. Move across to the chair.” Silverton shifted his legs across to the edge of the bed and stood up, shaking all over as a cold wind blew through the room. The stranger pushed him forward, and held him down to the chair while he tied him down. When the stranger had finished he spoke again. “I don’t want any trouble out of you. No tricks or you go. Understand?” Silverton nodded again. “You have a ship at the docks. Correct?” Silverton mumbled yes under the gag. “The docking platform is protected by a coded door lock. What is the code?” Taking the paper and quill the stranger gave to him, Silverton scribbled down the code to unlock the door, then gave the paper back. “Good. Are there any other defences I should know about?” With the gag removed from his head, Silverton stammered that there were Mechanist robots and faces watching the dockside. The gag was then replaced, the sword removed from beside his neck. The stranger now moved toward the door, but then, just before opening it he turned and commented: “Don’t set off any alarms or anything. Remember, everyone in the city knows where you live, and that isn’t a very nice thought if you have enemies.” The stranger disappeared as silently as he had arrived. Silverton waited 3 minutes before kicking the hidden security lever with his bare foot… Hagen was clambering back across the gutter when he heard the alarm bells ringing. Shouts and cries emanated from Silverton’s mansion, and within a few seconds a sweeping searchlight illuminated the twilight sky. Launching toward the corner of the opposite rooftop, Hagen realised he had been spotted. The searchlight was pointed in his direction, and an archer with a vantage point at the top of a nearby tower was hefting his bow up to release an arrow. Hagen hunkered down behind a wooden crate, the only form of protection near him. Thump! He recognised the sound of the arrow as it hit the crate, and prayed that it wasn’t a fire arrow. Thankfully it wasn’t, so he pulled out his bow and prepared to return fire. His ‘friends’ had not provided him with much equipment that night, so Hagen had to conserve what little number of arrows he had. Pulling his short bow from within the pockets of his cloak, Hagen prepared an arrow. Lifting his head above the crate for just a second, Hagen released an arrow. Peeking up again he saw that it had become lodged in the ceiling above the archer. The man was still frantically releasing volleys across the street, shouting insults as he fired. Hagen pulled on his bow again and released a second missile. This time the man went down with a wounded shoulder, but much to Hagen’s dismay he had been joined by a second archer and a feckless page, screaming at the sight of blood.
Scanning the tower Hagen spotted that the alcove was lit by an open lantern. Taking out his only water arrow, Hagen dismally accepted the fact that this was an all-or-nothing shot. Levelling his arm, adjusting his eye to view through the sight he lined up the arrow. Muttering a quick oath under his breath, Hagen let the bowstring return, and watched the arrow fly…
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