CHAPTER 1

The moonlight shone down on the frost covered cobbles illuminating the hooded trio as they clamoured over the weathered stone wall. The first scaled it with apparent ease, and dropped down to the other side. The second took a little longer and stopped as it reached the top, looking down at the third below. The third glanced from side to side hurriedly, and then started to make its way up the crumbling stonework. It slipped suddenly, its right hand falling to its side. The second quickly grabbed the third’s arm and hauled it up.

“Hurry up you two!” whispered the first.

The two dropped to the floor, the second gracefully while the third stumbled, and grabbed at the first as it fell.

“Hey watch it Gideon, you clumsy oaf!” the first snapped, pushing the third away.

“Sorry, Arterus,” murmured Gideon.

“C’mon, let’s go,” whispered Sera, the second of the three.

They started to make their way through the labyrinth like alleyways that marked the poorer areas of town. Gideon, the shortest and altogether fattest of the three had to almost jog to match the pace that his two taller more agile companions were setting. “Are you sure this is a good idea guys?” he asked casting glances in the direction from which they came.

“If you want to wimp out and leave, be my guest,” Arterus pointed out “Just don’t come crying back to me when you can’t climb back up the wall,”

“Yeah, Gideon. Where’s your sense of adventure?” encouraged Sera. “Besides, no one could recognise us - it’s too dark,”

“I..I guess so,” Gideon replied, although he wasn’t that convinced. “Let’s just get this over and done with,”

“Gah, Gideon, you’re no fun!” Sera moaned. “Does anyone know which way we’re going?”

“I thought Gideon knew – he used to live here!”

“I already told you, I was only born here! I was three when my family moved to Taras.”

Suddenly a figure dropped in front of them gracefully also encloaked. It turned its palm upwards, so just a glint of steel could be seen.

“Good day young sirs and madam, I’m going to be your robber for the evening. I, as well as you I assume, want to make this as painless an operation as possible, so if you would please place your valuables on the floor in front of you and vacate the area, that would be most helpful.”

“I’m warning you,” threatened Arterus, bringing himself up proudly. “I am the son of a nobleman, and will not take these threats idly!”

“Oh, son of a nobleman are you? That’s excellent – more money, you see. Now hurry up before I start getting” he paused and clicked his tongue. “Impatient.”

Sera glanced at her two companions. Gideon was frozen in terror, while Arterus was still raised in defiance. Useless, the both of them.

She extended her arm palm facing upwards and concentrated her energy on that spot. A ball of flame appeared and grew to the size of a baseball.

“Shit” said the thief, and he was gone, disappeared down one of the many alleyways and side passages. Sera concentrated and closed her hand over the flame, extinguishing it flawlessly.

“By Archmage Grandak’s beard, am I the only one smart enough here to use the skills that we’ve been taught over all these years!” Sera exclaimed.

Gideon looked sheepishly at his feet, but Arterus glared back.

“I threatened him didn’t I?” he argued. “And anyway, we both know you couldn’t have hurt him with that fireball, we haven’t got to that part yet.”

“He didn’t know that,” she said defiantly. “And you’d better keep your voice down in case any other thief tries to rob us.”

“Oh yeah, you talking about a low profile with your fireball trick”

“Erm guys,” interrupted Gideon. “Can we carry on to the market now?”

“Yeah, lets go” Sera agreed.

After ten or so minutes wandering through streets and alleyways the three trainee Magus stepped out into a large open square, which, even at night was a hive of activity. Market stalls were staggered around, each merchant trying to pedal his wares onto potential purchasers. Many street performers entertained the people, as well as musicians. Large fountains adorned the centre, powered by unseen mechanisms.

It was called Elcross Square, named after King Elcross, a king who ordered the construction of the city many, many years ago. A scholar would tell you that the city of Daragoth was originally called Elcross’s Folly by the people of Ilied, as his bold endeavour to create a new city seemed ridiculous – until the King’s wizards found the precious metals in the hills. But it had been long since any metal other than iron had been found near Daragoth, and that was in no short supply in the Kingdom.

“Let’s take off our hoods,” said Sera as the friends gazed upon the oddly beautiful site. “No one will recognise us here.”

The three browsed the stalls and looked at the various wares that could be found. Gideon inspected a large glass orb.

“Genuine crystal ball that is,” retorted the stall owner. “Lets you see into the future. I doubt you have enough money to purchase it young lad.”

Gideon looked into the ball, but all he could see was a distorted view of the other side. And it gave him a headache.

“Any jewellery for the pretty girl?” an old woman in a stall asked Sera.

Sera smiled grimly and shook her head. None of the Magus in training were allowed personal effects due mainly to the fact that they weren’t likely to last very long in the room where uncontrolled and unrefined power could go off at any moment.

They moved to watch the different performers. There was a fake wizard and his assistant performing astounding tricks, which Arterus passed off a cheap crap, but Sera and Gideon were fascinated by the illusions he conjured up, using less effort to create the same effects that a master Illumancer would achieve.

Arterus moved over to watch a man put five swords down his throat, to increasing cheers from the crowd. Then the three of them moved into a darker less favoured section, where a lone juggler was juggling with seven, no eight balls…

Talent the juggler, juggled. His hands caught the balls effortlessly, and moved them back into ascent. He flicked them round and over and down. Occassionally he’d catch one on his arm for a couple of seconds, and then fling it back with its fellows in the increasingly interesting dance. Talent was a performer, and he winked at a pretty girl watching the show, much to the annoyance of one of her friends. His hat was at his feet, and he was slightly annoyed that when he stopped juggling, half of the crowd either left, or still watched him, not giving him any money.

He needed that money to survive, and times would be especially hard during this sudden, harsh winter.. He took the balls back out of his pockets and started again, this time moving around the crowd, juggling round and over them.

They probably wouldn’t even realise later that Talent had stolen a few princes. It wasn’t like real stealing, he told himself. Those people watched the show and enjoyed it, and they’re not donating any money. Besides, he only stole off the middle and upper classes, the merchants and toffs. He would never steal from anyone as poor or worse off than he. That was not how he rolled.

His hands were quick, quicker than you could see, and soon his pockets were a tad heavier than before. His hand dived into the pocket of the boy who scowled at him, he looked quite rich. There was nothing there. But his attempt had not gone unnoticed, as the boy caught his eye in anger.

“Guards! That man stole from me!”

“Oh yeah, says who?” replied a patrolling city guardsman.

“I am a wizard! Chase him!”

The guards quickly looked for the man the boy was pointing to. He was nowhere to be seen.

Someone grabbed Arterus and Gideon by the cuffs of their cloaks.

“Wizards, eh?” said the Headmaster of the Wizards school. “Not for much longer. I think you three had better come with me.”

Talent stole away from the crowd and dived underneath and through a stall selling pastries and darted into an alleyway. He ran for about five minutes, and looked back to see if he was followed. He saw nothing behind him, and turned back to see a fist heading straight towards his face. He tried to slow down, but caught the blow heavily, and fell to his knees, nose bleeding.

“Aaargh!” he cried, clutching his face.

“Well, well Mr Juggler,” said a voice from above him. “It seems you have been caught stealing,”

Talent looked up to face his assailants. There were three men, two were large and well built while the other – the talker – was a few inches shorter than him, with greased back hair. He knew who they were. They were Cut-throats, members of the most violent thieves gang since the forced dissolution of the Shadows.

“You should know how it works Juggler,” said Snarrel, scratching at his left hand. “There’s no such thing as unorganised crime in this city, and since one of our men saw you stealing you stealing in our territory… Well let’s just say that I would like to be the first to welcome you to the Cut-throats. Hold him.”

With that order, Snarrel’s two thugs stepped forward and took hold of either one of Talent’s arms.

“What happens if I don’t want to join?” Talent asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I think I would like to know, please. Just to weigh up my options.”

“I really think you would not like to know!”

“Go on, tell me.”

“We gut you piece by piece, and feed em to the dogs.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I wanted to know. Sign me up I guess,” he said reservedly.

“Every month you will need to pay a tithe to one of the enforcers, such as me. This tithe can be either a fixed rate of four kings, or a variable rate based on types of thieving, perceived income etc.”

“I can’t afford four kings!”

“I’ll sign you up for the variable rate then. Now there is just one more matter to attend to.”

Snarrel moved through a doorway on his left, and came back with a red hot brand ten minutes later. He barely appeared out of breath. Shit, thought Talent. He’d forgotten about the brand.

“This will hurt,” said Snarrel with a grin. “A lot.”

He rolled up Talent’s right sleeve to his elbow, and plunged the brand into Talent’s forearm.

The thugs released him and he screamed with agony, falling to the floor. On his arm was a scar bearing the mark of the Cut-throats. It was a circle, with a slightly larger semi-circle around it, and a line going straight through the middle of both.

“Hmm,” muttered Snarrel. “Probably should have gagged him first. Lets go before anybody comes wondering what all that screaming was about.” He looked at Talent. “Bring me the money at the end of the month. Or else.”

With that the three left with haste, leaving Talent on the cold cobblestones with tears in his eyes. He got to his feet, and slowly covered the mark with his sleeve, wincing all the way. He looked around warily, and took the back way to the Luckless Thief.

When Talent arrived at the Luckless Thief tavern, it was packed full of patrons of all shapes and sizes. All human of course, as the only other sentient races were cursed with a penchant for evil, and as such were exiled from most kingdoms. He passed tables with wizards and watchmen, farmers and merchants, travellers and miners. But the table he was heading for sat the strangest selection of drinkers.

They were the street performers, more specifically the ones of Elcross square, and they were the closest thing he had to a family in the city.

There was Meldar the Magnificent, a short balding man dressed in a flowing robe. He wasn’t a wizard, but a magician, a man who dabbles in fooling the eye and mind for entertainment. His wife and assistant Leia was a plain woman with dark hair. Lady Sherinar sat by them and had quite revealing exotic attire. She was a snake charmer. Candera and Tollburn were next, and they wore exaggerated costumes from their two man street theatre act, where they re-enacted famous scenes from history. Finally there was a man dressed all in grey and had a grey painted face. Billet earned his keep by standing still all day.

“Greetings, dear Talent,” welcomed Tollburn.

“Hey.”

“How’s it going?” asked Meldar. “We tried to find to find you in the square.”

“Oh, yeah,” replied Talent. “Well…when nature calls…”

“’Do your business in the street’ I believe is the official saying in Daragoth,” said Candera with a grin.

This brought a laugh from the companions, and they soon got on to chatting about other things.

“Swordeater is ordering some drinks,” said Lady Sherinar. “Three months we’ve known him for, and I still know next to nothing about him.”

“Must you speak with that irritating accent still?” questioned Meldar. “We’re all Daragothians born and raised here, part from young Talent of course.”

“I’ll speak with this accent all I want, thank you. It makes me sound mysterious.”

“Drinks are on their way,” said Swordeater, exiting a throng of people and sitting down next to Talent. His face was scarred badly, by cuts and scrapes, most of which had mainly healed over, and his clothing was a simple affair.

“Have you heard?” asked Tollburn. “There’s been more fighting in the streets.”

“It’s those Thieves Guild and Cut-throats going at it again,” chimed in Leia. “It’s been going on ever since the Shadows were removed.” The drinks came.

“The guards don’t seem to be doing anything about it.”

“That’s because they can’t,” said Talent. “Last I heard, they were short of men, and only intervention from the military could take down the gangs.”

“And even then someone’ll take their place,” said Swordeater.

“What’s going on with the military anyway?”

“I heard they’re mainly tied up in the west with the Calfar. Could even be a full blown war.”

“I do hope there is a war,” remarked Candera. “Twill be a great tale of honour and glory.”

“That we can portray,” added Tollburn.

Swordeater replaced his glass on the table sharply. “You should never hope for a war,” he said. “For war is a foul game, played by lesser men, who see their soldiers as pawns. And it is not only soldiers that die. Armies rape and pillage any town they cross. No, you should never hope for a war.”

With that, he left the friends in the inn.

“Hmm,” said Billet.

“Did you know that the wizard’s council are trying to decide how to punish a grave misuser of magic?” said Meldar.

“No, I didn’t. But you can tell me tomorrow, because for now, I think I should be getting back to my lodgings,” said Talent.

“He’s right, dear, we should probably be getting off too,” agreed Leia. So they all slowly left, for the comfort of their beds.