Chapter V: Golden Foxes

Tally is finally introduced to Merek, the leader of the network of thieves that branches across the Empire.

Fawkes awoke the same way he always did; the first thing he saw was the canopy above, the first thing he heard was the chatter of his comrades, and the first thing he felt was a pulsing ache in his neck. One day, Fawkes promised himself, I'll have a castle, and I'll sleep on a feather bed with silk sheets and down pillows, and a beautiful woman lying next to me.

But for now, what Fawkes had was the top of a tower. Thirty-five feet from one wall to the other. One giant stone circle where he could retire after a long day of handling the less accomplished thieves. Of course, none of them would be a part of their outfit if they were without skill, but not even the best men in that tower held a candle to himself and Merek. 

And now there's the Dirthitryn girl. Fawkes hadn't wanted to let her stay; they didn't need another obnoxious braggart in their guild, especially not one whose moral compass made them despise all criminal activity. It'll be fine, Fawkes thought, though he huffed and puffed as he did so. Merek can find some use for her, but he'll be angry that I'm even asking.

Fawkes pulled himself out of the pit in the center of his bed, flung sheets away, and stood. He washed his face, grumpily rubbing small circles on his cheeks. He shuffled his feet to the trunk at the foot of his bed. 

I'm going to end up babysitting that girl all day, Fawkes thought, bitterly. I may as well leave the tower in my dressing gown.

But he dressed, and he dressed finely. He'd show that child that his dishonorable career was a more profitable path than selling firewood.

Most days, Fawkes would be armored in elaborate layers of hardened leather, but he knew there would be no need for it today. He slithered into a shirt of silk and trousers of satin, both black and both tailored. He then threw on a mohair overcoat, delicately embroidered in gold and lilac brocade. It wasn't what the Tavaunish lords were wearing, but it was what the wealthier Wassentian men liked, and what Fawkes liked was looking rich.

Awake, dressed, and mostly clean, Fawkes laced up his boots and strutted down the spiraling steps, past three levels of late sleepers. If not for the task at hand, he would be waking them up, but Fawkes didn't want any of his men wandering the fort while he dealt with the girl. Fawkes didn't yet know what Merek would want done with her.

On the ground floor of the tower, which served more as a common room than anything else, a few early risers were eating their breakfast together.

"Mornin', sir," One said through a mouthful of egg. A new addition, to be sure, both from the 'sir' and the food that it was said through. Fawkes gave the boy a curt nod and exited through the door into the main hall. He'd learn the boy's name later.

Fawkes shut the door behind him. He saw the girl as soon as he entered the hall; her wild red hair looked ablaze as she sat on the floor in front of the flaming hearth, poring over a book. The sound of the door creaking open made her jump. Fawkes saw terror flash across the girl's face, but she calmed once she recognized him.

"You need to come with me," Fawkes demanded.

"Where to?" Tally asked, voice coated in suspicion. 

Fawkes hesitated. "The other tower. I have to speak with Merek about your assignment." 

Tally stood then, returning her book to her designated corner before following Fawkes outside. For a moment, she looked out to the courtyard. At the far end were dummies and archery targets, which had presumably been left behind by the soldiers, and looked like they'd been recently abused. Tally looked up at the towers. They were even more monstrous in the daylight. There's an army of thieves in there. An army.

"Come on," grumbled Fawkes. Tally trotted up to Fawkes, who led her with a hand pressed between her shoulder blades. He opened the door to the tower and nudged her inside. 

The inside of the tower seemed larger than Tally had expected it to be, and it looked even bigger because it was so empty. An ornate rug stretched from the doorway to the fireplace, and a few tables were pushed against the walls, paintings sitting atop them. There were no windows, no bookshelves, and nowhere to sit. The hearth was alight with a small fire that signified permission to approach.

Fawkes hurried her up the steps. Tally caught a glimpse of three more levels, all decorated as awkwardly as the first. Each was a single round room, uncomfortably empty, and completely dysfunctional. Tally was surprised that anything worth anything was kept withing a hundred thieves' reach. Maybe these rooms are a ploy to distract from piles of treasure at the top.

Finally, on the fourth level, Fawkes stopped. A few feet from the top of the stairs were double doors of dark wood that stood twice Fawkes's height.

"You wait here." ordered Fawkes, and he slid into the room ahead, careful to keep Tally's view obstructed. Fawkes latched the door behind him. Tally sighed and pressed one pointed ear to the door.

Past the doors, Merek sat facing the door, leisurely leaned back in the chair, legs propped up on his desk with his feet crossed.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" croaked Merek.

"Merek, before I tell you why I've come, I'd like to remind you that I'm your most loyal man. And your best," blurted Fawkes, out of breath. He earned a snort from Merek, and another from behind the door.

"What did you do this time?" Merek asked, laughing.

Fawkes straightened himself. "I've brought you a new recruit."

"Well, that's good. Bring me three hundred more worthy thieves and we'll almost be at full capacity." Merek said, dismissively, and began sorting papers.

"Merek," Fawkes snapped, getting his attention. "The recruit is the Dirthityrn girl." Fawkes's face had morphed into a scrunched-up scowl.

Merek put his feet on the floor and sat straight. He looked directly at Fawkes. "No."

"No?"

"No. Tell the girl no." On the other side of the door, Tally's heart sank.

"She makes a hard case. I think you should speak with her before you decide," Fawkes suggested.

"When did I ask what you thought?" Merek barked.

"She's already in the fort, Guildmaster," Fawkes disclosed, submissively.

"She's here?" Merek asked through gritted teeth. He looked at the doors across the room. He said, quieter, "She's in the tower," Fawkes nodded.

"And what does her father think about this? You do remember Ralnor, don't you?"

"Her father is--" Dead, he was going to say. Tally heard how close he came to saying it. "Ralnor was taken last night. She came to us," Fawkes had been so angry at Tally, he'd forgotten what drove her to find him. Now, Fawkes was consumed in the thought of being her age and so afraid, so desperate to run to a band of criminals for help. He remembered how much he had frightened her. Fawkes neglected to ask what the Inquisitors had done. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Finally, Merek spoke, softly this time.

"Bring her in," Merek ordered. Fawkes nodded, and turned towards the door. "But, Fawkes," Merek started. "the girl is your responsibility. And if she betrays us," Fawkes looked at Merek, wide-eyed. "on your head be it."

When Tally heard Fawkes's footsteps getting closer, she stepped back and tried her best not to look like she'd been eavesdropping. Fawkes came through the doors in the same way he'd gone in. He exhaled.

"Merek's agreed to speak with you." Fawkes said, voice barely above a whisper. Tally stepped forward, but Fawkes pressed his hand against the door. "I know what you and your father thought of us, up on your high horses about honor and integrity," Fawkes fumed, "But while you're in there, you remember that you came to us, and no one who comes to us ever gets this far."

Tally kept her mouth shut, because she knew that if she opened it, a torrent of well-worded insults would fly out, and Merek would hear them all. Fawkes pushed the door open, and she scurried through. He closed the door behind her and placed his ear against the door.

At first, the sunlight that poured in from the window blinded her, and all she could see was a silhouette of a man. She approached him, growing increasingly more intimidated with every step. When she could see Merek clearly, she was surprised. Both Merek and his awkward tower looked very different from how Tally had imagined them.

Fawkes was pretty, and boyish, and smooth-skinned, but this man was rugged. Though young--ten years Tally's senior, maybe a few years more, but young still--his skin was taut and leathery. His hair was a sort of murky brown color in the sunlight and the waves stuck out, half-covering his ears. Looking at his crooked nose, Tally wondered how many times it had been broken. Though he looked a brigand, there was something about how he carried himself, like he was superior, untouchable, royal. He stood, leaning forward with his palms flat on his desk, and when he looked at Tally, he didn't scowl like Fawkes did.

"Fawkes didn't tell me how you found us," Merek started. "Did you walk all the way here?"

Tally nodded. "I ran."

"No one's ever found our hideaway in the fortress. Did Fawkes tell you where we were?"

"No," Tally said. "My father did. I reckon others know, but they're afraid of you." That made Merek grin a crooked grin.

"Are you?" Merek asked. Tally didn't answer. Merek changed the subject.

"No one ever comes to us, you know, not even our own recruits." He could see that he'd confused Tally. "The new blood are trained in different hideaways until they're fit to be here. Only the best are invited." Merek saw Tally growing more nervous, and he paused. "But I want to keep you here," Merek decided. Still listening at the door, Fawkes had never in his life been more confused. He wasn't sure yet if he was jealous or relieved. 

"Of course, you'll have to work." Merek heard Tally take a deep breath. "I'll train you personally; I don't trust anyone else to do it correctly." Merek pulled his hands from the desk and, with the posture of a richer man, walked around it, eliminating the barrier between himself and Tally.

You don't trust your best men? Tally knew the question would be a mistake, so she remained silent, holding her hands behind her back. 

"Talaedra, is it?"

"It's Tallis, now," She answered, pleased that he asked. Merek humphed in approval.

"Tallis, now that you're joining us, I do think it's worth mentioning that there's no leaving," Merek's tone was casual, soft, as he deliberately restrained from sounding threatening.

"How do you mean?" Tally asked, eyes wide, her neck suddenly heating.

"We're not alone, Tallis. This outpost is one of many. We're a network of thieves; smugglers, jailbreakers, burglars, and everyone who is anyone is one of us." Merek smiled a self-satisfied smile. "We're everywhere." 

"I feel like I'm being told more than I should know." Tally chose her words carefully. Someone had tried to kill her just the night before, and she didn't want anyone else trying.

"You're being told everything you need to know to keep you from making stupid decisions." Merek held eye contact with Tally then, and for just one second, his stone-cold glare frightened Tally more than anything in the world--but Merek blinked, and the glare melted away, and Tally exhaled. "Our faction can be a very good thing for you. Our rules are simple. Follow them, and prove yourself useful, and we'll be a lifelong blessing." 

"What are the rules?" They can't be that bad; they're thieves.

"Fawkes will familiarize you with how we run things. Now, I have somewhere to be, but I will see you tomorrow to begin training." Merek walked past Tally, opened the door, and gestured dismissively. Fawkes was very uncomfortably pretending he hadn't had his ear pressed to the door. Tally walked back to Fawkes's side. 

"It's been a pleasure," said Merek, "And, Fawkes, I would thank you for not eavesdropping." Merek closed the door between them.

Fawkes's hand returned to the space between Tally's shoulder blades, and they began descending the stairs. 

"First," Fawkes began, "we don't steal from the poor." Tally laughed.

"Second, don't hurt anyone on a job. Not unless we tell you to." Tally raised her eyebrows in concern.

"And, lastly," Fawkes paused. 

"What?"

Fawkes sighed. "We take care of our own."

"That's a bit vague, isn't it?"

"No stealing, infighting, narcing, or sabotaging." Fawkes looked her up and down, then opened the door to the courtyard. "Shouldn't be too difficult for you."

This time, when Tally walked outside, Fawkes didn't stop her from looking around.

There were more men outside in the daylight than there had been the night before, and none of them had seemed to notice Tally yet, save for one; the man who had been the first to see her upon her arrival, the one with the gangly limbs and rattish face, was watching her from across the courtyard with a string of birds in one hand and a bow in the other.

"Don't worry, he's not going to shoot you." said Fawkes, before he nudged her between her shoulder blades again. "You're not much of a bird, anyway." Tally gave Fawkes a threatening look over her shoulder.

That evening, Merek went alone to Caldergrav, got himself a room at the inn, and waited. Before too long, she arrived. Seating herself near the wall, underneath the candlelight, her excitement radiated off of her. Merek indulged her.

"She's alright, you don't have to ask," Merek chided. 

"I want to know more than just that, Merek. Tell me everything you can," She sputtered. "Please." 

"She's fourteen years old now. She has Ralnor's hair--and his eyes, I suppose. She's smart." 

"And what of Ralnor?" 

"The elves took him away last night," Merek divulged. "I wager he'll be dead before the month ends." 

"Is Talaedra scared?" 

"It's Tallis, now, apparently."

The woman nodded. "Good." 

"Of course she's scared," Merek startled himself with his own angry tone. He lowered his voice, though doing so felt like putting himself in a vice. 

"She has no one left. She turned to me for help. They were terrified of me in Errusten." 

"She'll grow to trust you soon, I'm sure."

"Well, she shouldn't," Merek snapped, and began pacing back and forth. "The road ahead is tumultuous, chaotic, and now she's in the middle of it all."

"And who says she'll be against you?" 

"Common sense. Intuition. I didn't want her involved for that very reason. It's the wrong time." 

 "Protect her, Merek. She'll repay you for it tenfold."