Chapter Five: Rad on the Run

Rad woke to the sound of whispering voices.

One of them uttered a password. Even though dazed, Rad realised that anyone saying nonsense like "It's an ill wind that blows from the west", was seeking admission somewhere. A harsh voice replied, "From the south, dolt!"

"It's the west!" came a sharp reply. "Anyway, you know me! It's Le'ard. Now open the door before I kick it down!"

Rad's mind reeled. Only thieves would have ridiculous passwords and then argue about them. He'd been abducted by the Thieves' Guild!

A door opened and Rad's head bumped against the jamb as his abductors entered the establishment. Rad uttered a muted yowl, but the numbness from the herb pack saved him from the more intense pain that he might have otherwise felt.

He bumped against someone's back as they took to a flight of winding stairs. He was upside down, he now realised. No wonder his head felt numb with dizziness!

The person carrying him shrugged and Rad rose and fell within the sack. "Giz us a hand," grumbled a muffled voice. "He's a heavy one."

Rad felt his neck muscles grind as his head was shoved at an odd angle. His mind screamed out in agony, but he kept his hurt there. Whatever was to come, he might need an element of surprise.

Finally his assailants reached even footing. A balcony, Rad realised, trying desperately to remember all the turns and twists but finally acknowledging that he would be truly lost in this place.

A door squeaked open and a rush of voices broke out.

"Upend him, then!" someone said.

Rad cushioned his head with his hands and rolled as the sack hit the floorboards. Hands grabbed at the sack and pulled. Rad let himself fall limply to the ground.

"Our little sparrow plays games," said a familiar voice. It was the one who had been carrying him.

"Unless you gave him too large a dose of hockshead," a querulous voice grumbled. "We've not got all night, Le'ard."

"Bloodletting always wakes them in a hurry," said Le'ard. "Around the throat does the trick fastest."

Rad came awake when he heard the rasp of a sword. He was on his back looking up at a yellow light flickering down from a candlewheel that hung from distant rafters. Rad blinked his confusion.

The room erupted into laughter. It cut abruptly when a wispy-bearded villain dressed in a black robe slashed the air with his hands. He was the only one seated and the others—six of them—seemingly revered him. The underlings were a motley crew, each sporting gross tattoos, scarred faces and other oddities such as missing ears, livid skin and eyepatches.

"Now little one," the seated thief began sibilantly. "You have a treasure that belongs to us."

Rad willed his heart to stop pounding his ribs. He swallowed hard and forced his parched mouth to speak. "It's mine. It's my inheritance."

Le'ard aimed a kick at him but the master thief coughed almost politely. Le'ard drew back his foot but his glare struck harder than any boot.

"That is a very interesting concept," the master thief said. He inspected his fingernails, and having found something to his disliking, nicked at it with a dirk. "Since it was in Gangi's possession, it belonged to him. And since we pledged a bid and there were no other takers, I feel the item belongs to us."

There were cries of vehement agreement.

While this exchange was taking place, Rad's mind raced. One door. No windows. The rafters high above offered some hope, but with no ladder he would never reach them. Seven thieves. No chance of escape. But sudden inspiration gave him hope.

He swallowed saliva. "The fence never paid me for the map. Nor did I seek recompense. I wanted it solely to join the Thieves' Guild. Gangi—"

Several thieves began disputing Rad at once. It took the master thief several seconds to restore order by repeatedly thumping the haft of his dirk on the table. "Let the boy have his say!" His thin scabrous lips curved in a quick smile. "I find him amusing."

Rad tried to compose himself. There was no good reason why he should try stalling, for his predicament was all but hopeless. Still, he clung to some hope that the master thief might have pity on him.

"You were saying?" the master thief prompted.

"I told Gangi of my hopes to join your ranks, myself being Guildless." Rad faltered when several thieves cursed beneath their breath. "He said he would do his best and present the map to you as a token of my ability to steal."

"You stole without the consent of the Thieves' Guild?" the master thief said. "That in itself is a serious crime against the Guild."

"I seized an opportunity that gave no chance to seek permission, honoured thief," Rad grovelled in a quavering voice.

"And yet you ran from my colleagues when they sought its whereabouts?"

"I was not to know who was on the premises, nor who killed Gangi—" Rad began.

"Why you little rat!" Le'ard snapped. "You did him in!"

It would have turned ugly just then but the master thief again demanded order. This time he rose from his chair and cursed loudly at the underlings for silence. When at last he had commanded everyone's attention, he went to Rad and hefted him up on to the table top.

"My men would string you up by your feet and bleed the life out of you till you divulged the map's whereabouts."

The master thief circled the table as Rad stood there beneath the flickering lights of the candlewheel. The other thieves fanned out as though knowing what to expect next.

"I myself," the master thief continued solemnly, "am averse to wanton bloodshed. Therefore I will ask you a series of questions. Every time you lie, someone will deal you a blow. My first question is this: if we didn't kill Gangi, and you say you didn't, then who did?"

"I—" Rad flinched knowing what was to come. "How should I know?"

A fist slammed into his thigh, instantly corking it. Pain flared up his leg and Rad flailed his arms to keep his balance.

"I ask the questions, street urchin," the master thief continued. "I have already summoned the person I feel responsible for Gangi's death." He stopped in front of Rad. "The only question I need really ask you is this—and please consider it carefully before answering—where is the map now?"

Rad's mind froze. Tulcia had the map. She was a keen scrapper, but against the likes of the Thieves' Guild she wouldn't have a chance.

Another fist slammed into his thigh. This time he toppled from the table but quick hands caught him and pushed him back up. He reached out for the candlewheel to steady himself.

Candle wax spilled and scorched his scalp. He clenched his teeth at the searing pain.

"I forgot to tell you," the master thief said casually. "You have ten seconds with which to carefully consider the question. I shall ask again: where is the map?"

"The stables!" Rad cried. "It's in the stables."

The master thief shook his head as one of his minions went to strike Rad in the thigh. "It might well be," he said almost to himself. "My men are searching them as we speak." He waggled a finger at Rad. "I should have been more precise with my question. Exactly where is the map right now?"

Rad sniffed back his tears. It wouldn't matter what he told them. They would soon find out that he was lying. And if he told the truth, they would simply kill Tulcia as well, and anyone who sought to help her, like Stanas, or Arna.

Suddenly a commotion downstairs made the master thief pause. "I believe Vindon Nibhelline has arrived." He signed for Le'ard to fetch him upstairs, but before the thief could move the door burst open.

Vindon had arrived, all right, but he was not alone. He had brought half his clan with him.

The thieves drew their shortswords and daggers. More frenzied shouts erupted from the vestibule. The entire Thieves' house in fact had come alive with scurrying figures. Somewhere a thief bell rang stridently.

Vindon rushed into the room and his men surged behind him. No-one dared make the first move. At such close quarters a bloodbath would ensue. And vastly outnumbered, the Nibhellines were clearly not here for serious trouble. It only took Rad a second to realise just why Vindon was here. And it wasn't because the Thieves' Guild had summoned him—the Nibhellines virtually ruled Quentaris, even if the Thieves' Guild refused to acknowledge the fact.

Seizing the moment, Rad closed his eyes against the dripping candle wax, bent his knees, then sprang up, hooking his feet around the wrought iron frame of the candlewheel.

The room pitched with uncertain light as the candles spluttered and spat. One fell and a thief cursed loudly. Rad had no time to think about the confusion down in the room. More deftly than he could expect, he pulled himself through the candlewheel and squeezed past the thick chains that held it.

"After him!" someone cried.

Rad kicked at more candles. The light shimmered then died. Someone panicked and attacked an opponent who immediately retaliated. Clashing swords obliterated further talk.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself up the ceiling chain until he passed a sizeable rafter. With some effort he swung the candlewheel left, then right. Gaining a little momentum he finally let go and clutched at the wooden beam. His leg throbbed achingly but adrenaline and the after-effects of the herb pack dulled the pain.

He crawled along the joist. A dull thud smacked beside him. A wicked blade jutted from a beam a hand's width from his face. He scrabbled faster. Behind him someone was mounting the candlewheel. His pursuer climbed the chain like a mountaineer. Agile and experienced, the man didn't crawl along the joist—he ran with the confidence of a rat.

Below the clashing of swords intensified. It seemed reinforcements for both parties had arrived. Rad squeezed through a narrow structure. He wriggled through the tiniest spaces, praying feverishly to Fellonious that his pursuer might get stuck.

Rad crab-crawled sideways through a wall cavity. Cobwebs cloaked him like a veil, but whatever venomous spiders they housed, nothing could be worse than what he was escaping.

Finally he saw moonlight ahead. A skylight! The battle dimmed as he left one section of the thieves' house and emerged over the threshold of another room. He stood quickly. The joist crossing beneath the skylight was barely wide enough to traverse, but if he doubted his balancing ability, his pursuer's appearance made up his mind.

"Gotcha!" a gravelly voice crowed.

Rad was yanked backwards. He cried out as his feet trod air. For a moment death reached up to take him. He stared helplessly at Le'ard, whose face twisted with sadistic delight.

"Could let you drop, urchin." His grip on Rad's collar loosened and Rad dropped several inches. "The map. Where's it at?"

"I'm falling!" Rad gasped. "Help me!"

Le'ard's eyes sparkled. "The map!" he snarled.

Rad's feet beat in mid air. He reached up and grabbed the joist with his right hand. Suprisingly the thief allowed him this brief respite. But that was his undoing.

Rad swung his left hand up and caught the thief by his own collar. Rad tugged while propelling himself up.

Le'ard uttered a startled yell and lost his balance. He barely caught a hold of the joist as he swung out over the room.

Rad clawed himself up and sat panting, his legs straddling the timber. Beside him, Le'ard reached up and gained a better purchase of the joist.

Then the door down below swung open. "Here!" a voice called. "He's in here!"

Rad stood quickly. With his arms out wide to balance himself, he made it to the skylight. He barely acknowledged the fact that Le'ard had now hooked a leg over the joist and was pulling himself up.

Rad ripped a piece from his shirt and wrapped it around his knuckles. He punched the glass three times before it shattered. Shards fell like raining knives.

"Back! Back!" someone screamed below.

Rad hoisted himself up over the lip. He was vaguely aware of how sticky his hands were as he pushed himself down the steep saw-toothed roof. He slid faster and faster on the seat of his pants.

Le'ard appeared through the skylight then howled and fell back down below the roofline.

Rad hit the guttering with the impact of a runaway cart. The gutter gave way and shattered on the street below. Barely catching a hold of some spouting, Rad held on as that too began to buckle with his weight. Slowly, but gaining momentum, it thundered to the laneway.

Rad picked himself up, dazed and battered, but far from safe. Even now he could hear pursuit from the roof. He hobbled as fast as his corked thigh and new injuries would allow, and within minutes had climbed a set of rusting fire escape stairs and was once again on home territory: the rooftops.