A Thief's Way Read online

  A Thief’s Way

  DAN ZANGARI

  ROBERT ZANGARI

  TALES OF THE AMULET · COMPANION STORY I

  A LEGENDS OF KALDA BOOK

  Copyright 2019 LOK Publishing

  All Rights Reserved.

  E-Book Edition

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  Cover Art by Kerem Beyit

  Chapter Heading Illustrations by Suleyman Temiz

  Cartography by Robert Zangari

  Edited by Linda Branam

  First Printing: TBD

  First Paperback Edition: TBD

  ISBN 13: 978-1-947673-06-9

  Visit our web site at http://www.legendsofkalda.com/

  TALES OF THE AMULET

  A PRINCE’S ERRAND

  THE DARK NECROMANCER

  ELVEN SECRETS

  THE MAGES’ AGENDA

  TREACHERY IN THE KINGDOM

  COMPANION STORIES

  A THIEF’S WAY

  THE LAST BARSIONIST

  MYSTERIOUS ASSASSIN

  RETURN OF THE ELVES

  A FORGOTTEN HERO

  GUARDIANS OF KALDA

  Contents

  Author’s Forward

  Prologue: A Thief

  1: Korath

  2: Atop the Cliffs

  3: Reconnaissance

  4: Folktales

  5: An Illicit Visit

  6: The Deed

  7: Getaway

  8: Payment

  9: Sweet Parting

  Epilogue: A Letter

  Glossary

  Special Offer

  About the Authors

  Other titles by the Authors

  Connect with the Authors

  Illustrations

  Kalda World Map

  Isle of Korath Map

  Isle of Korath Map

  Author’s Forward

  Robert Zangari

  Over the last several years, fans have expressed an interest in seeing more of Tilthan, the notorious sneak who is as skilled as he is sarcastic. While revising our series, TALES OF THE AMULET, we decided to give Tilthan a spotlight of his own. Tilthan was only mentioned by name in A Prince’s Errand and so his exclusion in the novel begged a few questions: If Krindal’s quest was the greatest adventure of the last thousand years, why didn’t Tilthan and his buddies go with Cornar? And, what would Tilthan be doing while the others were gone? Wouldn’t Tilthan be doing something worthwhile?

  So, A Thief’s Way was born of those questions.

  It was a rocky birth, with revision after revision. I wanted a heist story, similar to the story-arc in The Mages’ Agenda with magic and perils. But I couldn’t figure out what I wanted Tilthan and his friends to steal. Or where they were stealing from…

  Then, I turned toward an assassination plot. Tilthan is no stranger to assassinations, and he was eager to assassinate the Necrotic Order’s council in The Dragons’ Legacy. This idea had Tilthan and his thieving companions traveling to Sarn, an island in the Principality of Soroth, to eliminate Lady Ralisu Davig. As I wrote the Greater Kalda chapters of A Prince’s Errand I wove some foreshadowing into Balden’s segment, hinting that the good-lady need to be eliminated. I thought perchance that Baron Cilgan would work with an intermediary on Soroth to hire Tilthan and the thieves to kill her. But, that ultimately didn’t pan out, causing too many contradictions that messed with the outlined plot of the second book in the series, The Dark Necromancer.

  I scratched my head for a few months and continued to work on part three of A Prince’s Errand. It wasn’t till I finished the novel that I figured out the plotting for A Thief’s Way. I revisited the heist idea, but this time I set it all the way across the world on the Isle of Korath, a lavish resort-nation that thrives on tourism all year round. The Isle of Korath was the setting for Ercanin’s Greater Kalda chapter in A Prince’s Errand, and so the place was fairly fresh in my mind. But instead of taking place in Karbenath, A Thief’s Way is centered in the capitol city called, Korath.

  With our further adieu, we proudly present Tilthan’s very first published stand-alone. We hope you enjoy A Thief’s Way. Be sure to write us a review when you’re finished.

  – Robert Zangari

  Salt Lake City, 2019

  The musky smell of Orchin’s Tavern disgusted Chernil. Putrid body odor–mixed with cheap alcohol–accosted his nostrils as he scanned the tavern. Puffs of smoke occasionally filled the air. Uncouth men and women filled the tavern, laughing flagrantly like the crass filth they were.

  Why would someone of such notoriety choose a place like this to socialize? Chernil thought. The tavern was unbecoming of any who had even a measure of social prestige.

  Perhaps he should have sent someone instead. No, he reassured himself, I need to meet him myself. This task is too important. Despite Demitru’s reassurances, Chernil was still leery of hiring a man he had never met. But Demitru insisted his friend was the best thief in all the civilized world–not to mention he possessed some unique tevisrals.

  A wisp of cheap lavin wafted past Chernil’s face and he curled his lips into a snarl. Chernil coughed with revulsion as he neared a barred window–the tavern’s cashier booth. A dozing clerk sat behind the bars.

  “Excuse me,” Chernil said.

  The clerk started, flashing Chernil a glance with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry,” the clerk apologized. “Cashing in? Or depositing?”

  Chernil cocked his brow, and his snarl became more pronounced. The clerk flinched. “I am looking for someone,” Chernil said. “I have been told he frequents this place often.”

  The clerk looked about nervously, and then leaned toward the bars. “You a plainclothes watchman?” he whispered. “Or… a bounty hunter?”

  Chernil drew his lips to a line, not amused. Were bounty hunters common in Soroth? “No, I am neither,” he answered.

  The clerk relaxed.

  “His name is Tilthan,” Chernil said, “Do you know him?”

  Laughing, the clerk nodded. “I sure do! In fact, he’s sitting over there,” he pointed across the tavern. “Second table away from the wall, middle row.”

  Chernil turned in the direction of the clerk’s gesture, eyeing the aforementioned table: eight men sat around it playing a card game. Half the table seemed to know each other, as they were rowdily conversing. Though Chernil couldn’t hear them above the noise in the tavern he deduced they were bantering with each other.

  “Tilthan is the one with his back to the wall,” the clerk said. “He’s the short one with the mole on his cheek, sitting next to the tall chiseled man with brown hair. His name is Nordal.”

  Chernil focused on Tilthan. He had an irreverent demeanor about him. The thin thief wore a wine-colored velvet doublet. He looked out of place in this crowd–a tad overdressed when compared to the other patrons. Tilthan rubbed at his mole, then ran his fingers through his neatly cropped brown hair, nervously eyeing the others at the table.

  The other gamblers showed their cards, and Chernil deduced they were playing a game of Sharzen.

  Suddenly, Tilthan’s brown eyes flashed with excitement and he violently stood, cheering. His abrupt movement knocked over his chair.

  This is your friend, Demitru? Chernil wondered. Tilthan’s untamed demeanor was stark against Demitru’s refinement.

  “Is there anything else I can help y
ou with?” the clerk asked.

  Chernil continued eyeing the thief. Tilthan raked in his winnings, polished spheres used as the tavern’s chips. “No,” Chernil said succinctly and crossed the tavern.

  “You’re welcome…” the clerk muttered, sounding sullen.

  Chernil ignored the man, moving straight for Tilthan’s table.

  With all his sphere-chips gathered, Tilthan began dancing. Some of the gamblers at the table were frustrated. The man–identified by the clerk as Nordal–chuckled, sitting back in his chair. Nordal gave Tilthan a humored glance. One of the other shorter men–sitting two places away from Tilthan–shook his head at the dancing thief and rolled his eyes.

  One of your associates, Tilthan? Chernil wondered. Demitru said Tilthan worked with three others–two men named Nath and Nemral, and a woman named Sharon. Together, they comprised a skilled thieving troupe.

  “See Nemral,” Tilthan said in a gloating tone, “that’s how it’s done.”

  The man beside Tilthan nodded. Nemral was a little heavier than Tilthan, but his build was more muscular than pudgy. His face was pale with freckles and wavy black hair adorned his head. He looked of Eastern Losian descent, especially with his vibrant blue eyes.

  Losians, Chernil thought, disgusted. The mere thought of that accursed Kingdom was more revolting than the tavern. It had been seven months since the Massacre, but the horrific slaughter at the Feast of Sorrows was still fresh in his mind.

  “I don’t suppose you’re interested in another game?” asked one of the men at the table. He had a prominent scar on his face.

  “I’m afraid they will have to be finished,” Chernil said, reaching the table.

  Tilthan abruptly stopped bragging and stared wide-eyed at Chernil.

  “And who in Heleron’s name do you think you are?” the scar-faced man demanded, his voice harsh.

  “Yea…” Tilthan said warily, “I’d like to know the answer to that, too!”

  Chernil cocked his brow, gave the scar-faced man a glare, and then turned to Tilthan. “A mutual friend suggested I seek you and your troupe,” Chernil said. “I have a job for you.”

  Tilthan pouted his lips, placing his hands on his hips. “What friend?” his tone was cautious.

  Chernil glanced about the table. All eyes were on him.

  “Demitru.”

  The other man–who Chernil supposed was Nath–perked up, looking to Tilthan with an intrigued expression.

  “Really…?” Tilthan said doubtfully. “And what does this job entail?”

  “I would rather not speak of it here,” Chernil said, his disgust for the tavern reflected in his tone.

  Tilthan snickered, shaking his head.

  What an irritant, Chernil thought, drawing his lips to a line. The thief’s attitude was not amusing.

  “So, you want to hire us?” Tilthan said, arcing his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. “Well, we’re not cheap,” he said sardonically.

  Chernil expected to hear as much. Without a word, he pulled a fist-sized sack from his belt and threw it at Tilthan. The thief caught it with ease–its contents jingling. “And there’s more aboard my ship,” he said tersely.

  Tilthan immediately opened the bag, his eyes widening with greed.

  Now I have you, Chernil thought. Demitru had told him how to properly persuade Tilthan. The thief saw precious gems as a means to abundant wealth. Chernil had learned from Demitru that Tilthan often embarked on adventures, and he always sought gemstones in his share of the loot.

  The other thieves and Nordal were gathered around Tilthan, each peering into the sack with surprise.

  Chernil noticed the scar-faced man leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the spheres atop the table in front of Tilthan. The scar-faced man’s hand eased forward.

  “You might want to cash in your spheres,” Chernil suggested, attempting to ward off the theft.

  Tilthan shot a glance to the table, seeing his former gambling opponent reaching for the sphere-chips. “Oh… no you don’t!” Tilthan twisted his lips and furrowed his brow.

  The scar-faced man shot back, then left the table empty handed. The others followed him, leaving Chernil alone with Tilthan and his friends.

  “What do you say, Tilthan?” Chernil asked. “I can pay each of you ten times what is in that sack.”

  Both Nath and Nemral turned to Chernil with slack jaws, their tongues almost hanging out of their mouths.

  Nordal snorted. “Count me in, too!”

  “No,” Chernil said. “Just them. The task ahead requires a fair amount of stealth.”

  Nordal frowned. “It’s safe to say you’re obviously stealing something,” he sighed, glancing to Tilthan.

  “What we do best,” Tilthan grinned. “That’s the job, I take it?”

  Chernil nodded.

  “Well, boys,” Tilthan turned to the other two thieves, “what do you think?”

  Nath gave Tilthan an unamused gaze.

  “I think the answer is obvious, Tilthan,” Nemral said.

  Tilthan snickered again.

  “You will be gone for several months,” Chernil said, volunteering what little information he deemed necessary.

  “Count us in!” Tilthan chimed, grinning. He removed an empty sack from the pocket of his velvet pants and began shoveling spheres into the sack.

  “Good,” Chernil said, “and how soon can you fetch your other associate?”

  “Sharon?” Tilthan asked, looking up from the table.

  “Uh, Tilthan,” Nath interjected. “Ordreth is proposing to Sharon in two days… I suggest we don’t involve her.”

  “Really?” Nordal asked, sounding surprised. “He’s actually doing it?”

  “Yeah…” Nath said. “But don’t say anything. No one is supposed to know. I don’t even think he’s told Cornar, yet.”

  Nordal and Nath continued conversing about the proposal while Tilthan considered his friend’s warning.

  “She might not take kindly to us leaving her out,” Tilthan said, squinting his eyes.

  “I’m sure if we give her some of the payment it will ease her… uh…” Nath fumbled, “disappointment.”

  Tilthan gave his friend a blank look. “Not from my share.”

  Nath rolled his eyes.

  I can do with three, Chernil thought. Three thieves instead of four would not make the job impossible. Perhaps it might even be more favorable this way. In the very least, he wouldn’t have to pay as much–not that it mattered. Wealth was not a stranger to Chernil.

  Tilthan finished scooping up his winnings, then heaved the sack over his shoulder. It wasn’t large enough to warrant such heaving. The gesture seemed frivolous.

  “Let me cash this in,” Tilthan said, gesturing his head to his winnings.

  “Very well,” Chernil nodded, stepping aside. “I will wait outside for you. But time is of the essence. We must set sail tonight.”

  Tilthan flinched.

  “Do we have time to prepare for the trip?” Nath asked. “We need some things, if you know what I mean.”

  Chernil nodded, knowing the thief referred to their tevisrals. They would need those.

  Nath hurried past Tilthan, moving toward the tavern’s entrance.

  “You can have my winnings,” Nemral said to Nordal, leaving the table.

  “Thank you,” Nordal said, glancing to the spheres. He then looked to Chernil. “Are you sure you don’t want me? I am a skilled warrior.”

  “I have my own bodyguards,” Chernil said tersely, then spun around. The sooner he could leave this grimy den, the better.

  He was outside a moment later. The air could not be fresher. Chernil took in a deep breath, relieved to be away from the filth of humanity.

  A moment later, Tilthan exited the tavern with Nath.

  “Now can you tell us what exactly this job entails?” Tilthan asked. “I like to know what I’m stealing.”

  Chernil glanced over his shoulder, quickly scanning the street.

  “Or
at least where we’re going…” Tilthan pried.

  Satisfied that no one else was in earshot, Chernil lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’re going to Korath. A Korathi noble unearthed a discovery several months ago, finding a relic from the time of the Karthar Empire. It–”

  Tilthan groaned. “A relic… how dull.”

  Chernil was not amused by the interruption. “This is not just any relic,” he chided. Chernil was about to continue but a pair of footsteps drew his attention, coming from a nearby alley. “We will speak further aboard my ship. I am on pier three, wharf twelve. Meet me there after you gather your belongings.”

  “I know you will not agree–none of our kind have throughout the ages–but you must be convinced! Destroying it will ensure our Enemy never escapes his prison.”

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Tilthan was bored. He was tired of sailing. It wasn’t that he hated sailing. He rather enjoyed it. The amount of sailing, however, was another matter. Tilthan was accustomed to traveling aboard swift vessels, like the White Duchess. Captain Kenard’s ship was one of the fastest in the entire world, traveling almost twice as fast as any other vessel. Tilthan supposed tevisrals were responsible for the increased speed, but Kenard never revealed his secrets.

  Smart man.

  Tilthan sighed as he leaned over the portside rail of the Regalleon–one of the ferries that traversed the land-locked Sea of Korath.

  They had traveled on three ships since leaving Soroth: Chernil’s vessel, the ferry down the Gorbian River to the banks of the Sea of Korath, and now the ferry to Korath itself. There was a slight break in the sea travel, but it only lasted two days.

  “Are we there yet?” he grumbled beneath his breath, dangling his head over the ferry’s portside rail.