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5. The Temple
Clara had once more been entrusted with one of the guild’s most important missions. She kept having
to remind herself that there would be no city watch in the area that night. Lared had seen to that
eventuality before, and he would do so again. She found herself smiling at the thought of him,
wondering what he was doing. No time for that, she reminded herself as she moved across the rooftops.
She had asked for one of the apprentices to accompany her. Instead, the head of the guild had insisted
that Mila go. Mila was tall, strong and wiry, a striking blonde. Had she not been trained as a thief, she
would no doubt have become a warrior. She was useful in a fight, that much was sure. Perhaps the head
of the guild expected trouble on this night – with scant knowledge of how effective Clara’s
preparations with a senior officer of the watch had been, he would not know any better. She had
thought that Mila was disliked. Perhaps she was finding favour again.
At least the rain had stopped, she considered, dangling by the rope from the wall which surrounded the
temple of Soras. She tugged the rope and Mila began to descend. In the dim light she made hand
gestures to her, receiving a nod in agreement. Clara pulled the rope and grapple free, passing it to Mila.
The guards did not even patrol this far -amateurs. They were asking to have their map stolen. The two
black clad, masked thieves split up, moving to different areas of the temple structure as agreed, far
from the guards at the gates.
***
Clara slid through the dark passageways, making hardly a sound. Mila would guard the back of the
building, where they would make their exit, then they would go back over the wall. The plan was
simplicity itself. She entered the main temple now. The map, held in a chest, was her quarry. She even
knew where they hid it, under the large statue of their goddess, Soras -goddess of justice. No justice on
this night, she thought.
Staying in the shadows, she moved across the tiled floor. A pale light was given off by a few slim
torches, whose illumination helped more than hindered, showing her direction and destination. She
looked toward the altar.
What? She could see something move. Mila…must be. But she should not have entered. She would
speak to her later about this. Clara stopped. Scuffling now, a cry. Mila moved from the shadows,
pulling a guard by the head, a blade in her hand. She threw him to the ground. Another came out of the
shadows and another…dressed in the uniform of…the Riverwake Tower. Had she been betrayed? She
let critical seconds past as Mila slew one, pulling a small dagger and throwing it at another.
She moved. She had been taught to move fast, let her accomplice cover her tracks. She would have
done the same for Mila. If she was not killed, Mila would be put to the question. Though she wouldn’t
talk, not Mila. Clara tried to dismiss the imagined image of Mila screaming, her lashed body stretched
to breaking point on a rack, as she ran through the shadows.
There was movement in front of her. Lots of it. She pulled the daggers from her wrist and waist straps.
Damn, was this a trap? Set by Lared? A crossbow armed guard appeared in to her front and another at
the side. She ducked as their bolts flew past her, skidded into one man and knocked him from his feet.
Getting up, she ran for the door as another crossbowman raised and levelled, and another.
”Halt thief!” a voice cried from behind her, as another crossbowman appeared. They had her. If she ran
on, she would be killed. She stopped, looked to her side, hearing the sounds of fighting diminish behind
her with a loud cry from Mila. Her eyes widened as she watched the now familiar figure of Mirch, a
sword in his hand, emerge from the shadows.
“Think hard thief. You might yet survive,” he croaked.
Clara’s breasts raised and fell slowly as she breathed, looking from one man to the other, daggers in
hand. Finally, she relaxed, and dropped them clanging to the floor, head bowed.
***
Lared fidgeted as he stared at the two naked women in front of him. Both had their hands bound behind
them. The larger of the two, a blond, maybe forty summers old, was strong with large breasts, but
swayed under the wound made by a crossbow bolt to the thigh. He tried not to look at the other woman
and the familiar brand on her breast. Both had bowed heads, though Clara had a look of fury on her
face.
Mirch smiled as he entered.
“The Duke was in the area sir. Figured you might want him see these two…thieves.” He spoke the
word with contempt, staring at the two women, bowing as a man in regal finery and breastplate
entered. He had obviously been a fighter, as the scar across what would have been a finely featured
face attested to. Clara snuck a glance up at Lared as the Duke entered, noting that for once, Lared
seemed afraid. That meant that both he and she, were about to lose control of the situation. Even
standing naked and bound in the room, she felt a chill in her bones.
The Duke did not even look at Lared. Long well tended locks of hair seemed the only affectation made
to his status. Clara shivered as he approached, armour creaking. He ran a hand across her branded
breast and spoke. Clara gasped, raising her head slightly.
“So, this one is the thief you told me of Mirch, yes?”
Many eyes glanced at Mirch for response. Lared’s were narrow and accusing.
“Y...Yes my Lord. She was here...then released without punishment. Caught by the watch a while ago
my Lord.”
The Duke stared at her. Clara looked away as he continued to trace the line of her brand.
“This one was caught thieving then?”
“Yes my Lord.”
“A second offence. She’ll suffer for that. What would you recommend…Mirch?”
Clara stiffened visibly, noting that Lared moved to speak.
“Duke…,” he said in a low voice.
“I did not ask you Captain. Did I?” He shot a look at Lared, who stifled his response.
“No my Lord.”
The nobleman continued. “Indeed, from what I hear, you and this thief have been close, very close. I
think you forget your place in this prison sir?”
Without waiting for a response, he turned to Mirch, letting go of Clara’s breast.
“So, Captain Mirch,” he said, emphasising Mirch’s new position of authority.
“What would you recommend for a thief such as this?”
“Eighty lashes sir, administered at dawn...as normal, then an example to the city should be made.”
Clara swallowed, closed her eyes…her heart pounding.
“An example Mirch?”
“Yes sir.” Mirch began to regain his composure a little. Clara opened her eyes again, noted his evil
smile returning. “She should ride the wooden horse my Lord, with yoke and ankle weights, until
midday.”
The Duke smiled at her as she recoiled slightly.
“And then?”
“She…” Mirch spluttered. “Why…she should be condemned to the galley my Lord.”
“Duke I must discuss…” Lared spoke out, becoming silent again as the Duke raised his gloved finger,
not even deigning to turn his head to look at him.
“Good Mirch, very good, with one proviso. Captain Lared will carry out the whipping.”
Clara could hear Lared’s deep sigh.
The Duke moved to Mila, running a hand down her wounded thigh, where the bolt had been removed.
She grunted in pain in response, finding it difficult to stand.
“And this one Mirch? How many of your men did she kill?”
“Two my Lord, and two wounded.”
He stared at Mila, who looked back defiantly, jaw set, her breasts quivering as she tried to remain
upright.
“A serious offence. I want her crucified at the city gate. No galley for this one. Is that clear?”
Mila’s mouth dropped open. “No, “ she whispered. “No, please!”
“See to it Mirch,” the Duke spat, ignoring her pleas and wide eyed disbelief.
“Put them in chains!” he barked, at last turning to Lared as the guards, and the new Captain Mirch
pushed the bound women toward the staircase that led to the stench below and the dungeons of the
Riverwake Tower.
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