Thieves of Islar: Book One of The Heirs of Bormeer by James Shade Page A

closing hours.
    The door to the street opened and Gerlido’s guild lieutenants, Brale and Sukul, stepped inside. They did not have to look for him. Gerlido always sat in the same place. They approached slowly. Sukul’s eyes were squinted and twitchy. Brale was sweating barely looked up from the floor. Gerlido could smell the mineral salt and residue of greasy food from across the room. He made an effort not to scowl. They were bringing him bad news about their assignment.
    The men reached his table, Brale looming and a little lopsided on his feet as he tried not to interfere with the serving girl bringing drinks. Brale was a hulking figure of a man, with arms and torso out of proportion with his normally sized legs. He came from good stock, Gerlido often said. His thick neck and broad shoulders would have served his father well toiling in the farmer’s fields, had he not had the misfortune of killing their neighbor’s daughter. Gerlido never found out what happened, whether it was a premeditated murder or an accidental display of the brute’s temper. Truly, he did not care.
    Brale made the mistake of trying to rob him after his escape into the bowels of the city. Gerlido taught him that there was more technique to fighting than devastating, lumbering punches. Once he recovered from his injuries, Brale refused to leave Gerlido’s side. Realizing he must either take him into the guild or kill him, Gerlido took the more advantageous approach. He paired the boy with Sukul as strong-arm support for the guild, and Brale seemed more than content taking orders from the only man to have ever beaten him in a fight.
    Sukul’s was another story entirely. He had been with Gerlido since their early careers in Dun Lercos. The swarthy Pevaran was short and wiry. His ropy muscles pushed against the tight, midnight blue cotton he always wore. They had crossed paths working the capital city docks, rolling unsuspecting traders and travelers as they made their way from the riverfront to the local pubs. They had both gone for the same mark and ended up toe-to-toe in a grimy alley.
    Gerlido was not yet working for Larsetta. He was a loner, avoiding the politics and the tribute associated with the city guilds. He understood the chances he was taking. That night he figured that he had run out of time and luck and into one of the city’s guildsmen. It was not until the following day that he learned that Sukul had believed the same thing.
    Daggers already in hand, each man eyed the other. They stalked each other in a tight circle as the oblivious merchant continued on his way. As their footwork disturbed nothing but the oil-slick surfaces of the puddles in the filth-strewn alley, both men made evaluated their opponent and decided not to fight. Another choice and either of them could have ended up dead. Perhaps both of them could have been killed. They found out just days later the similarities in their fighting styles and abilities. It would have been a close thing.
    In many ways, that meeting had brought Gerlido to his present position. Through the years, Gerlido and Sukul stood poised for choices that could have gone either way: the guild they finally joined, Gerlido’s desire for becoming a rung lieutenant versus Sukul’s disinterest in the opportunity, and meeting Larsetta and becoming involved in her circle of assassins. Sukul stepped back each time, deciding to maintain their friendship rather than force a competition. Which worked for a while. Until we came here and I became guild leader. My adoption of Brale has made Sukul more of a caretaker than a Guild lieutenant.
    Well, I'll make it up to him. Gerlido could not say that he missed being closer comrades. He had too much to do. Another year and the first rung guild position would be theirs. A year more and he would be the Grandmaster Thief of Islar. Then he could throw off Larsetta’s leash and make his own decisions about Islar's future. Then he would reward Sukul for his