Marina and Pheston sat by the fountain, talking endlessly about nothing whatsoever with several bags beside them and Marina’s kupon pouch slumped by her side as though she had not noticed it slipping out of her pocket. Pheston was uncharacteristically hunched over with a cloak to mask his burly physique.

  Sitting within her temple and staring out the window at the two was Ilyria. She was nervous about the plan, but she had been sure to leave Friedrich’s house alone while taking the longest route back to the temple that she could. She was under strict instructions to not intervene even if a fight broke out—not that one was expected to.

  Friedrich himself was skulking in an alleyway as a fox, watching the fountain from behind a broken barrel. Lastly, there was Teleri who sat upon a rooftop balcony much further away from the fountain than the others. She feigned observing the sky above, something that she was quite good at after recently spending a lot of time on her own balcony doing just that. Her keen eyes continued to flick downwards so that she did not miss her cue should a thief reveal himself.

  Marina remained focused on Pheston, talking about how she learned that one of her favourite fashion designers had been driven from Abnar’s Watch three decades ago when thievery was at its peak and his best designs were stolen. Pheston was pretending to be interested and giving answers about a topic he was enthusiastic about instead. Had any thieves been listening to them, they would not have bought the conversation for a second.

  As Teleri looked downwards, she saw a nondescript man in a brown tunic walking towards the fountain. He suddenly tripped and caught himself on the stone edge after bumping Marina. As he apologised profusely to Marina, who assured him she was fine, he departed. The Alaurian caught Marina’s eye and they exchanged a nod as the thief made off with a pouch full of kupons.

  The man hurried along an alleyway, breaking line of sight with Teleri, but Friedrich dashed out from his hiding spot and followed the man. He clung to the shadows as he bounded, slipping between curious people, until he found a staircase he could ascend. From there, he leapt onto a roof and followed the man from above.

  When Teleri saw Friedrich, she skipped across a few roofs herself and then landed on a balcony that the man would pass by any second. She clung to the doorframe and nocked an arrow as she waited for him to appear. The second he rounded a corner, she let loose an arrow that pierced his shoulder. The man looked briefly shocked before falling rigidly to the ground.

  Friedrich turned back into a human, pulled the paralysing arrow from the man’s shoulder and then hoisted the thief over his shoulder. Teleri hopped down to greet him, checking the side streets in case anybody was heading their way.

  “The way ahead is clear,” she said. “We must move quickly if we are to remain undiscovered.”

  “And you’re sure this place is abandoned?” he asked her, adjusting the thief’s position.

  “I am certain.”

  Friedrich and Teleri moved through the streets quietly, following the route to a house Teleri had scouted that very morning. It was boarded up with moss clinging to every nook and cranny of its exterior, left to rot by whoever currently or once owned it. They snuck inside and waited for Marina and Pheston to join them.

  “He’s not bleeding much,” said Pheston, looking to the thief’s shoulder wound. “That was a good shot, Goldie.”

  “Thank you,” said Teleri smugly.

  “How accidental was it?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Less chatter and more disguising,” snapped Marina, shooing the two of them into another room. When she returned, she was carrying a chair. “Get him in this chair immediately.”

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  Once Marina had placed it in the centre of the room, Friedrich threw the man onto it. While Marina held him, he uncovered the spider mask and placed it upon his face, transforming into the form that she liked the least. Marina winced as Friedrich set about weaving his spiderwebs. Once the thief was bound, she joined Teleri and Pheston in the other room while Friedrich kept an eye on their prisoner until his transformation wore off.

  “We’re counting on you, Teleri,” said Marina. “You are the coolest and calmest of us.”

  “I will do what must be done,” she said, putting on an unusual accent that confused Marina.

  “Are you…are you alright?” she asked.

  “I am speaking like a wood elf,” said Teleri, continuing the awful accent.

  Pheston laughed quietly to himself but Teleri’s elven ears picked up on it. “Sorry,” he said, “but that ain’t fooling nobody, lass.”

  “We shall see,” said Teleri with a frown. She pulled her hood over his head and her cloth mask up to cover her mouth and nose.

  *

  Gerrith awoke with a throbbing pain in his shoulder. His vision was blurry as he opened his eyes. Where was he? He was sitting on a wooden chair, he knew that much, but the room he was in was dark and dusty. The windows had been boarded up and only small specks of light had the privilege of entry to the dingy abode.

  The thief tried to move his arms, but they were bound tightly behind his back by something sticky. He tried to raise his legs, but they were firmly tied to the chair. He looked down and confirmed it was not rope that held him in place, but a thick spider web that would not budge no matter how hard he pulled.

  “Hello?” he called out, not expecting anyone to answer.

  “Hello,” came a voice from behind him.

  Gerrith had no need to turn his head for a woman clad in black walked in front of him. Everything about her was covered save for her eyes, which could not be seen due to the obscuring shadows that fell perfectly for her. Had she been the one to shoot him? He could not tell, for he had failed to see his attacker.

  “Please,” said Gerrith, his voice shaking. “I beg of you to release me. There must be a mistake!”

  “There is no mistake,” said the woman. Her voice was elven, but her accent was hard to place. High elf? Wood elf? There was something forced about it, as though she was badly disguising her accent. Perhaps it was not so bad if he could not discern between the elven tones.

  “I…I have a family,” said Gerrith, forcing his voice to crack. “A young daughter who needs her father.”

  “Your tricks will not work with me, thief.”

  “I’ll have you know,” said Gerrith, his voice instantly flipping to smarmy, “that you have imprisoned a member of Abnar’s Hand. If you release me now, the repercussions will be minimal.”

  “Only minimal? I am not swayed by such a thing. You are to answer my questions and do so without protest.”

  “You are going to suffer when the guild finds out what you’re up to, elf,” said the man. “Do you really want to find out what we’re capable of? We are thieves by trade, but we are that much more when threatened.”

  “Your threat is meaningless to me,” said the elf nonchalantly. “What matters now is how you choose your words. You are in no position of power and your guildmates will not find your body should you push me to do something I would prefer not to do. Firstly, tell me your name.”

  Gerrith snorted. “Name’s Gerrith. And yours?”

  The elf ignored him. “My name is of no consequence to you, Gerrith. You will not know it because you do not need to know it.”

  “Is that so?”

  The elf ignored him again. “There are two of my kin in your ranks,” she said and Gerrith raised an eyebrow. Feldorians.”

  “Ah, you’re a wood elf?”

  “I am.”

  Gerrith smiled. “You can do whatever you want to me and I won’t talk, so you might as well kill me and get it over with.”

  The elf tutted and shook her head. She slowly reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small vial filled with a dark liquid. She moved it seamlessly between her fingers and the liquid curled and swirled within its contained.

  “This,” she said, “is a potent acid. It is capable of dissolving stone, Gerrith. I wonder what it might do to flesh?”

  “You’re bluffing,” said Gerrith with a smirk.

  “Is that so?” asked the elf, uncorking the bottle and tipping it so that a single drop fell onto the stone. The brick fizzled and steamed as a small hole was burned through it.

  Gerrith gulped and felt a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. She had to be bluffing. She wouldn’t use that on a human, surely? Especially not a member of Abnar’s Hand. But this woman was no human nor was she a thief. She had no loyalty to the human race; no loyalty to the guild. If she truly did not fear the consequences then he was in more trouble than he first believed.

  The elf slowly walked towards him with the vial held between her finger and thumb. Gerrith knew that he could not break and spill any secrets of the guild or his life would not be worth living. He did not have the clout to reveal a single word; he was a lowly street thief. The elf held the vial above his foot and started tipping it once again.