Ilanna peered over the roof's edge at the shadow-cloaked figures below. Three men, wearing the dull-colored, rough-spun clothing of commoners. Wary eyes and hard faces belied their nonchalance as they lounged before the door of what ought to be an empty, abandoned warehouse on the bank of the Stannar River.
She tensed as a figure slid up beside her.
"All is ready, Master Gold," whispered Errik, Master Serpent, his expression grim. "Everyone is in place."
Ilanna drew in a deep breath. Eight years of serving as Master of the Night Guild hadn't diminished the excitement of creeping across the rooftops of Praamis, leaping, running, and flying over the Hawk's Highway. But what they did tonight had nothing to do with thieves' craft.
A hand slipped into hers and squeezed. Ilanna turned to the figure on her left, a dark-skinned woman a few years younger than her. Ria's grip had a strength that reassured Ilanna without need for words.
She nodded. "Give the signal. Move in."
Errik, Master over the assassins of House Serpent, returned the nod and slithered away from the edge, disappearing into the night. A few moments later, a muted tap-tap echoed behind her.
A score of large, heavily-muscled men with scarred knuckles and heavy maces boiled from the doorways across from the warehouse and the surrounding streets. The three guards cried out and reached for their own weapons.
Ilanna didn't wait to watch the confrontation. When it came to ruthless ferocity, the strong-arms and heavy-handed enforcers of House Bloodbear had no match.
She leapt to her feet and darted toward the edge of the rooftop, whipping a strip of greased canvas up and over the rope that stretched across the street. She sped through the air and dropped onto the warehouse roof, rolling with the impact. The thump of Ria sounded behind her.
Ilanna didn't glance back—she had no need to worry about the dark-skinned woman—but sprinted across the rooftop toward the trapdoor that led into the warehouse's upper level. Figures wearing dark grey cloaks seemed to appear from the darkness. She nodded at the apprentices of House Hawk, the third-story thieves of the Night Guild, and reached for the door.
"No!" hissed Tandril, a broad-shouldered youth with a patchy beard and long, dark hair. "I have express orders from Master Hawk not to let you take any unnecessary risks."
Ilanna snorted. "Mother hen Bryden is worried for me, eh?"
Tandril's eyes slid away. Everyone in the Night Guild knew Bryden, Master of House Hawk, had little love for his Guild Master.
"Get that door open and get out of my way, Tandril," Ilanna commanded. "You and the other apprentices need to get back to the Aerie."
Tandril bristled and opened his mouth, no doubt to protest that he wanted in on the action below.
"Mouth shut, and follow orders, apprentice." Ilanna's tone left no room for argument. "The Hawks have done their job to satisfaction. Let the others do theirs."
Tandril hesitated a moment, and Ilanna stepped forward. Swallowing, the Hawk apprentice bent and tugged the trapdoor open.
A hand gripped Ilanna's arm and held her back.
"Me first," Ria said, stepping in front of her and drawing her assegai, a spear with a forearm-length shaft that ended in a long leaf-shaped blade.
Ilanna raised an eyebrow. "Don't for a minute think I'll let you order me around just because I'm sweet on you."
Ria grinned. "I'm pretty sure you will." With a wink, she twirled the spear once and descended the steps into the warehouse.
Ilanna followed a step behind, long, slim sword and dagger held at the ready.
Darkness met her eyes, but the sounds of fighting echoed from the lower floors. Ria slipped through the empty halls with the grace of a desert greatcoat. Ilanna couldn't help admiring the lithe, willowy frame ahead of her.
The sound of booted feet grew louder, and a heavy-set man raced around the corner, lantern jangling in his hand. He lurched to a halt as he caught sight of the two women.
Ria danced forward, her short spear stabbing out like a viper's flicking tongue. The man gave a strangled cry and crumpled. Blood gushed from the puncture in his throat, mixing with the oil seeping from the shattered lamp beside him.
Ilanna pushed past Ria and burst through the next door.
A disheveled, sweat-soaked man leapt to his feet, fumbling in desperation at the breeches around his ankles. His eyes flew wide as Ilanna rested the tip of her rapier against the base of his throat.
"Please!" The man's hands flew up, causing his trousers to drop. "Don't harm me. I-I'm just…"
"I know exactly who you are, Lord Illiran," she snarled, her voice cold as the Frozen Sea.
The nobleman's face turned an interesting shade of beet red, sickly green, and terrified white. "I-I…" he stammered.
Ilanna's lip curled into a sneer. "Better you say nothing, my lord." She spat the words. "I've no mind to kill you, but one wrong word from your mouth could change that."
