The screech of the iron door wasn’t loud, yet it pierced Vesper’s skull enough to give him a sudden headache. The silence in the Thief dungeon had been absolute. There were no drips of water. No scurrying animals. No creaking wood. Not even the moans of other prisoners. Just terrifying silence.

Standing up, Vesper prepared to meet Alard and the Guildmaster Thief. Could Ralan actually be the Guildmaster of this mysterious guild? Vesper thought. He doubted it. He’d seen the guards, the invisible and potent defenses near the Great Bridge, and the work being done at the edge of the Ash Fields. Who in their right mind would trust that to the miscreant boy Ralan?

The words “here is the Blade, Guildmaster” preceded an approaching glow. Vesper stood at attention, his hands clasped behind his back, as two figures appeared. Alard waved a hand toward Vesper. Walking next to him was Ralan, wearing typical Guildmaster garb with the stark exception of it being jet black.

Stopping in front of the bars, Ralan nodded at Vesper. “What’s your name?”

“Vesper.” Not knowing how this conversation could go and well aware that Alard could kill him in an instant at the word of his Guildmaster, Vesper decided to take great care in his responses.

“You are the Blade of the Guildmaster Craft.”

It was a statement not a question, but Vesper answered anyway. He had already admitted as much to Alard, and starting with an obvious and yet difficult truth would go a long way toward eventually slipping past a subtle lie. “I am.”

Ralan nodded. “Why did you cross the river?”

Vesper thought long and hard. He had told Alard he wouldn’t answer any more questions without assurance of him coming to no harm. Could he make the same demand of Ralan? Alard seemed curious, whereas Ralan was inscrutable, standing there staring at him. He decided to share another dangerous truth for the simple reason that practically everything that would follow would be a lie.

“I was on a mission to assassinate you.”

Ralan’s only response was to nod his head slightly. Alard stood still, his hood covering his face and hiding his response. “You do realize that admitting this has sealed your death warrant?”

“I am more valuable alive than dead,” Vesper replied, keeping his voice calm despite the threat he just heard.

“Doubtful. But I’m listening.” Ralan smiled, and Vesper saw worlds in that smile. It was the smile of someone who was utterly confident in his position, who knew his power and where he stood, and the smile of someone who would not be easily intimidated.

“I will tell no more unless you guarantee my safety.”

“Ah, now this is interesting, is it not, Deputy?” Ralan turned to Alard, ignoring Vesper’s presence. “The prisoner has information to save his life and yet to give us this information we must promise to spare his life. I daresay that’s a dubious claim.”

“Indeed, Guildmaster.”

Vesper, who had spent his life with an extraordinary mastery over his nerves and a focus that allowed him to do both amazing and unspeakable things, stammered, “I misspoke.”

Ralan turned to Vesper. “Go on.”

I will embrace a new plan, Vesper decided. “I will tell you everything, and will demand nothing in return but some questions answered, for you are correct—I am in no position to demand anything. But I hope that you will hear the truth in my words, and the sincerity in my heart as I conclude my comments.” Ralan said nothing. “Will you at least promise to be open to what I offer.”

“That I can do. Ask your questions, and I promise whatever offer or ideas that you present to me I will consider with an open mind.”

Vesper then outlined everything. From his belief that the Merchant Blade killed Guildmaster Pietro, that Orion was working with Larsen to create an emperor of Ness, and that Orion was playing Larsen for the fool that he was.

“Wait, are you telling me that Orion has been pretending to be dim-witted and oblivious this whole time, and that his goal is to assassinate Larsen at some point and to take over as leader of Ness?”

“It is so.”

“You expect me to believe that? Orion is a lovable oaf!”

“Orion is the most dangerous man in Ness,” Vesper said.

“But if he was waiting for Larsen, why were you here trying to assassinate me?” Ralan seemed utterly transfixed by Vesper’s story.

“Orion feels Larsen is ineffective and inept. I was to make Larsen’s job easier by killing you and dumping your body on the banks of the Great River.”

Ralan laughed. “You say that with such a straight face! How can I not trust your words when you speak them directly to me?” Turning to Alard, he asked, “What do you think, Deputy?”

“I never considered Orion as stupid as others have, but these words still surprise me. That said, I believe him.”

Turning back to Vesper, Ralan said, “So there you go. We believe you, Blade. So, what are your questions and what is this offer you have? It must truly be miraculous after hearing you are on a mission to kill me!”

“What is the Thieves Guild? What is your mission?” Vesper didn’t have to fake the sincerity in his voice.

Ralan paused, as if considering his words, and then replied, “We are the largest guild in Ness. We stand alone and yet are part of every other guild. We live behind the scenes to provide shelter and food for those that are overlooked by their own guilds, even as we are hunted and killed for doing so.” After a short pause, Ralan stated, an almost regal confidence in his voice, “We take so we can give.”

“I don’t understand,” Vesper replied.

Ralan looked at Alard, who spoke up, his deep voice seemingly penetrating the rock itself with its resonance. “Every guild has its lowest members. We take care of them because their own guilds do not.”

Vesper did not believe this. He had never heard of a guild turning its back on its own members. “That is false. Guilds take care of their own.”

“Blade, your own guild includes those that repair the sewers under Ness. Correct?”

Vesper did not know this, but repairs of buildings and equipment were the Craft Guild responsibility. “I assume so.”

“Do you know where those that clean the sewers live?”

He was going to answer the Flats, but he knew the answer was the Wretched Quarter. While most of those that crossed the Great Bridge to work were dirty Harvest Guild members, he knew that some of his own guild members lived in the Wretched Quarter, as well. “Across the bridge,” Vesper replied.

Alard nodded. “And how much are they paid for the unpleasant services they provide?”

“Enough to eat and—” Vesper was going to say pay rent, but how much was rent in the Wretched Quarter? Were there even inns or places to rent? Did they possibly live in hovels? Vesper didn’t know. “—Live,” was his eventual reply.

“They are paid less than a crown for a week of work.”

“Ridiculous!” Vesper replied. The amount was barely enough to pay for a day’s worth of food.

“Indeed. It is ridiculous,” Ralan replied. “So we provide them the food and shelter they need. We do it by stealing food, clothing, and money from those that don’t need it.”

“You steal from the rich and provide it to the poor,” Vesper replied, not quite believing that the thieves—the people that Orion had always taught him were evil and selfish—were actually generous and providing for those without.

“Yes,” was Ralan’s simple reply.

“So you rule all of the land on this side of the river?”

“Yes. We man the walls and patrol the streets. It helps that the only way here is a single bridge.” Ralan scratched his head. “Is that all?”

“No. One more question. What do you plan to do with Larsen and Orion?”

Ralan peered at Vesper for a long time and then replied, “Nothing. Things seem stable. We have plans to further improve Ness, but they are subtle, and I will not share them with you.” Ralan sighed. “We have answered your questions. So before you die, you said you had an offer. Now is the time to make it.”

“May I beg one last question?” Ralan nodded. “Do you have a Blade?” Ralan looked disconcerted by the question, and Vesper wondered what it could mean. It appeared that the thieves did have a Blade, but something had happened to him.

He had started the conversation with two possible plans. The first was to offer himself as the Blade of the Guildmaster Thief. But after Ralan’s response, Vesper went with his second plan. “Let me spy for you. I will return to Orion and tell him that I couldn’t find you. He will not be surprised. He knew the mission had a low chance of success. I will be included in all of his planning, which I will share with you.”

Ralan shook his head, which worried Vesper, but his reply was encouraging. “So you would betray your guildmaster to save your life?”

“It seems like a reasonable trade, don’t you think?”

Ralan laughed at that. “For such as you. But I fear if you were to betray Orion, you would just as easily betray me. So why should I trust you?”

Vesper took a deep breath. His life depended on this answer. “Because as I climbed over the wall to the Ash Fields, I was moved by those that were trying to reclaim the land. The tower above me is both majestic and hidden. That is how I see myself—hidden and yet powerful and majestic in my own way, if you may beg my arrogance. When I experienced the invisible defenses you have beyond the bridge, and the guards on the walls, I realized that something amazing was happening here.” Vesper took a step forward.

“What I saw was amazing. What you said was amazing. I am not blind. There is something both honorable and mysterious in what you are doing. I am not a fool. I know I have been working for an evil man. I yearn to work for a good one.” Vesper lowered his head. “So my offer is this: Forgive my devotion to an evil guildmaster so I may serve a good one.”

Ralan was quiet for a mere moment before replying, “Let me think on this.” And without saying another word, he and Alard walked down the hall, the eventual grinding scream of the iron door a metaphor for what Vesper felt inside. He had a reprieve, but the uncertainty was as painful as a stab.

When Alard returned alone three hours later, Vesper was sure his life was at an end. The ominous former knight paused in front of the door to Vesper’s cell. “I have a question.”

“I will answer truthfully,” Vesper replied, letting hope creep into his heart.

“Other than the obvious answer of saving your own life, what is the one thing about the Thieves Guild that makes you want to serve us?”

Vesper knew that the best answer was to say helping the poor of other guilds or to provide aid to those in need or any number of things that illustrated his dedication to the guild’s mission. Yet the more he thought of the question, the more he couldn’t shake the image of the huge dark tower at the base of the mountain. It drew him across the Ash Fields. He had to see it. It was as if the tower itself was reaching out to him. He felt a need to understand its mysteries and to climb its stairs and experience its view. It was as basic as that and yet so much more.

It was irrational. It made no sense. And it was clearly the worst answer he could give, but that was how he replied. “The Tower. The moment I saw it I was filled with an unshakeable desire to know more about it. It is Ness’ greatest monument and yet it is hidden in plain sight.” Stabbing himself in the chest with a finger, Vesper added, “Nothing about the Thieves touches my heart as much as the Tower itself.”

The next day Vesper was at the West side of the Great Bridge. “We will contact you,” his Thief escort told him before disappearing into the crowd like a drop of rain into a river.

Turning back to the southwest, Vesper looked at the great Tower of the Thieves, barely discernible even from there. He had fooled the Thieves with a stupid story of some passing fancy—an impressive tower. Vesper couldn’t even understand why he told the story, yet it was presumably one of the reasons he was released. As he crossed the Great Bridge, Vesper organized his thoughts for his report to Orion about the dangerous and previously hidden Thieves Guild.

It was difficult to focus, however, for every few steps Vesper would pause and look over his shoulder, glancing at the mysterious, impressive, and nearly invisible tower in the distance.