1 Maerryl
MAERRYL
If I knew one thing by now, it was the street value of a stolen silver spoon. I could get seven silver coins for it on a good day. Five on a bad day, when I felt particularly churlish.
Forks were unpredictable; their delicate tines were often bent or twisted. Knives were the trickiest by far. The price they fetched on the black market varied widely depending on the sharpness of the blade, the amount of tarnish on the handle, and whether they were solid metal or hollow.
But spoons—they were reliable. The most lightly used and the easiest for me to fence. And if I never saw another goddess-damned fancy silver spoon again, I would be a happy woman.
That, I reminded myself, seemed unlikely.
This was my life now. Sorting and cleaning ridiculously ornamental items lifted from rich idiots’ homes and reselling them for as much as I could get.
Working at the whim of the guild’s leadership.
In return, I had a fairly clean bed, regular—if sometimes flavorless—meals, and a steady income that I hoarded away in hiding spots along my clothes.
Not exactly what I’d imagined when I joined the Takers Guild half a year ago, but I couldn’t deny that my situation was better than it had been before.
The past couple of years before I’d joined here had been… difficult, to say the least.
Sighing, I carefully inspected another stupid spoon for any dents or dings. Finding none, I gave it a thorough polish and placed it on the mound of silverware that had steadily grown over the past hours of tedious work.
The door creaked open, and a broad, bald green head poked into my tiny closet of a workspace.
Stiv, one of the orcs who protected the guild’s leadership on trips through the city of Talon, gave me a small up-nod in greeting.
I grunted back, then returned my attention to the miniature fork in my hand.
What did rich people even use this for? Eating their caviar piece by extravagant piece? It was as long as my forefinger, for fuck’s sake.
“Maerryl, she wants to see you in her office,” Stiv said.
My attention jerked up, pulse leaping. “Really? Did she say what it’s about?”
Stiv shook his large head. “Nope. But she’s in a good mood at least.”
“Thanks. Be right there.”
He rapped on the door in farewell, leaving it open as he clomped away.
I tidied my station and threw down the polishing rag. Took a deep breath in and let it spill out of my lungs.
Rolling my shoulders back, I stalked out into the hallway and made my way through the twisting bowels of the guild toward its heart.
Her office was deep in the center of the guild’s sprawling building.
One of the most secure areas that we had, it required passing through three guard checkpoints before reaching the magically protected hallway that led to her office.
Our dear guildmaster was nothing if not thorough.
Though she called it an office, it was really more of a lair than anything.
The hallway, with its deep bloodred wallpaper dimly lit with sconces, gave a creepy air to anyone unfortunate enough to be called down into her presence.
There was no one guarding the door—just a ring of eight eyeballs circling, scanning for intruders, spelled to only allow in those whom she wished to see.
Their spinning and squelching made my skin crawl.
Catching sight of me, the eyeballs whirred. A pause, and the thick iron door swung open with a groan. I slipped inside. It slammed shut behind me.
Okay. Not ominous at all.
The room was shockingly bright as always, washed in a fierce, white illumination only obtainable by the strongest magelights.
Several orbs were scattered about, placed on tables and hung from the ceiling, showcasing the rich, sleek wood of her desk and large leather chairs.
I’d made the mistake of looking directly into those lights once before, and I’d had spots in my vision for hours after.
They were powerful magic, and costly. A show of her superiority, and, if rumors were to be believed, an attempt to stave off her fear of the dark.
A waste. The coin it cost to pay for these magelights each week could pay for a hundred children’s meals for a month. Beeswax candles weakly supplemented their stronger cousins’ flames, but they were mainly intended to add ambience to the room. Or so I assumed. Pompous asses.
“Maerryl. I see you are prompt, as always.”
Her throaty baritone made me freeze like a rabbit caught near a fox’s den, limbs tensing. She chuckled and gestured me toward a chair, coming from a shadowy side door into the harsh light.
“I live to serve, Zephyra,” I said wryly, forcing myself to relax and make a quick bow, rough linen shirt billowing from my chest. Plopping into the chair she’d indicated, I had to look up at my boss as her six-foot-tall frame loomed across from me.
I cast an appreciative glance over her thick curves swathed in tight black leather, cinched all over with gleaming metal buckles and ties. Bet they were real gold too.
She wasn’t just a badass—she was a rich badass with money to burn. And she made sure everyone knew it.
Catching me looking, Zephyra met my gaze. Her solid golden eyes, glowing almost orange, made my heart stammer. I let their pull drag me in, trying to hold her stare for a long moment. Two. Three.
Then I looked away. She won, as always.
The guildmaster sank into her chair, leathers creaking. When I finally looked back at her, she was watching me with a broad smile, one sharp red nail tapping against her even sharper teeth. I resisted the urge to gulp.
No matter how confident I felt walking into this office, she always had the uncanny ability to knock anyone down a few pegs within seconds.
It was astounding. And mesmerizing. Either way, I knew beyond all doubt that she could incapacitate me—destroy my life, livelihood, and body—without breaking a sweat.
Even after being in her service as a member of the Takers Guild for six full months, I still couldn’t decide whether I despised or adored her for that.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself. You need her and the guild, and she doesn’t need you. Stop moaning.
“Maerryl, dear. How are you enjoying life in our humble little guild? It’s been a few months now since your unfortunate incident.” Zephyra’s expression had shifted swiftly to mock concern, but her golden eyes pierced.
“I’m finding the work you give me very… informative. I hope I’ve been useful,” I said carefully. I wanted to bite off my tongue, but that was the only acceptable answer I could give to the guildmaster.
Since that failed assignment three months ago, when Zephyra caught me out in my lie, I had been set to cleaning and fencing duty, day in and day out.
I’d barely caught a glimpse of the guildmaster in that time, and she hadn’t bothered to call me to her.
Still a full member, though low-ranking, I had to wait until she’d determined my punishment period was up.
Months of tedium felt like punishment enough, but it also meant I couldn’t take on any more lucrative jobs.
No extra coin beyond my regular guild pay, and I felt the slowly squeezing sensation of worry constricting my chest a little more each day.
Now though, I found myself back in her office. She was in a good mood—I meant to make the most of this chance. I couldn’t stare at fancy spoons for another three months, consumed by boredom and anxious thoughts.
Gathering my courage, I said, “Zephyra. To be honest, I’d like to be more useful to you. To the guild. I have skills that could be better used if I was given the opportun—”
“Excellent to hear you say that, Maerryl, dear.” She cut me off with a sharp flick of her tail.
“Because I’ve asked you here today for a very special assignment.
One I think you’ll find quite a welcome change to your current…
circumstances.” With a knowing smile, Zephyra sat forward and faced me directly.
I shifted in my seat, straightening my posture and worn blue shirt under her scrutiny.
“There is a manor a two-hour ride south of the city, near Tilwren Forest. A wealthy family lives there, and we’ve been watching them for some time now.
Lord and Lady Wistrallo. Very old money and rabid art collectors.
You know the like.” Zephyra rolled her eyes at me, an invitation.
I smiled with her and shook my head disparagingly.
Rich nobles and their silly infatuations.
She went on, “We’ve hit them a few times over the years.
Nothing they’d miss—a painting here, some jewelry there.
From reports I’ve gotten, their wealth has been steadily declining for a while.
No surprise. They sold their place in Talon a while back and have been staying in the country manor full-time.
Quite reclusive now and bankrupt, by all accounts.
Had to let most of their staff go. Never host their decadent parties or throw coin around at art galleries anymore.
Very amusing—you know how I love to see nobles fall off their pedestals occasionally.
“Until about a year ago, when we learned that they’d begun flaunting their gold again.
Paintings, dresses, jewelry, wine, you name it.
My sources have no idea where their sudden influx of money has come from.
It has been… frustrating. But earlier this week, we learned that they’ve begun searching for a trustworthy bodyguard for their daughter. ”
Zephyra lounged back in her chair with a pleased smile.
My stomach dropped. Oh no.
“Conveniently, since you’re so new to the guild and have been working mostly in your little cleaning room, no one has reason to associate you with us.
And you have an official track record marking your years of bounty hunting for towns and cities across the Midlands of Kurriel.
To supplement that, we’ve already prepared your letters of reference from previous bodyguard ‘clients.’ Gleaming reports of your steadfast reliability and defense skills.
” She pushed a neatly tied brown folder across the desk. I didn’t touch it.
“Your interview is at four o’clock, so you’d best be getting a move on. There’s a horse ready for you in the stables. And remember to focus on the mother—from what we’ve learned, she’s the one holding the purse strings, and she’s apparently rejected over a dozen candidates already.”
Gathering my thoughts, I said carefully, “Zephyra, with respect… working for rich folk—all the bowing and scraping and demeaning yourself—that’s the reason I joined the Takers Guild in the first place.
To avoid resorting to all that. Surely… surely there must be someone else better suited for this job?
” I forced myself to look at Zephyra directly, raising my gaze from her desk.
She watched me, the silence stretching out between us.
“But that’s not the only reason you joined. Is it, Maerryl, dear?” Her golden eyes seemed to see into me, and for a crazed moment it felt like she could somehow read my thoughts. I suddenly chilled all over.
Her voice hardened. “You will do this job that I’ve graciously given you. You will be my eyes and ears inside that house, and you will find out where the money is coming from and where it’s hidden. Then you will help me rob these rich fucks blind.
“You know how much I adore uncovering everyone’s precious little secrets,” Zephyra said, smile sharpening.
True—she was known for it across Talon and beyond.
Positively relentless when it came to secrets, and she had half the nobles and officials in the city beholden to her through sheer blackmail alone because of it.
I’d worked hard to keep my own matters private since joining the guild.
My past. Everything I’d lost. That my little brother was the only one of my clanspeople left, and I’d only barely managed to keep him alive.
He remained in a magical coma in a priory outside the city, kept safe but sleeping until I could finally save up the astronomical amount of coin needed to buy the cure from across the sea.
No, I could not let Zephyra find out—she didn’t need any more power over me than she already had.
“Prove yourself to me with this mission. I want the truth about the Wistrallos’ source of funds, and I want to steal their art collection out from under their snooty noses.
” She grinned, twirling a small knife absently between her fingers.
“Succeed, and I will give you more coin than you’ve ever seen in your life.
A small fortune as a special bonus for your hard work.
Along with better assignments in the future, a higher weekly stipend, and more freedom. ”
“What if I don’t get the position?” I said desperately. “There’s no guarantee they’ll even hire me.”
Zephyra shrugged. “Then I wouldn’t bother coming back here. Ever. I have no need for useless silver polishers in my guild.”
Her catlike grin grew, but her golden eyes were ice cold.
“Good luck, little one.”