The Trahiad Read online

  As Racin began clapping proudly, she felt ten pairs of eyes glaring at her, but she didn’t care. This is what I want.

  “Stated poetically,” Racin said. He locked eyes on her for a moment, and she almost stepped back from him. They were harder this time, more intent, and more focused.

  “The Trahiad is something I built,” Racin continued. “And for the past twenty years we have worked vigorously to turn it into a society that can protect our own. We are protected from other thieves that don’t share our common values, but also to the bureaucrats above that spend countless hours debating laws that have no value or benefit to the commoners who are struggling for every meal! No, they do nothing, so we’ve created a society that will do everything. A society that will enable us to succeed. A society that will be a welcoming community of others fighting for survival. We’ve created the Trahiad!”

  Everyone, including the spectators in the seats surrounding them, clapped and cheered. Elisa smiled at Wyatt. A better life would be an incredible thing.

  “Two of you,” Racin continued. “Will join us. But you will have to prove yourselves.”

  Elisa felt excitement growing. We can do this.

  “Your task is simple. Ascend to the streets above and take something. Take something you think I’d value above all else. You have until tomorrow evening where you must return and show me what you’ve taken. I will declare then who took something that I value the most. You can work together, but remember only two of you can succeed. Good luck.”

  Elisa’s mind raced. Take something? Obviously that meant to steal. But steal what? Something Racin Poe would value above all else? What in the bloody Creator’s name would he value?

  She didn’t have time to think as they threw a sackcloth back over her head and she started getting prodded from behind to get moving. She almost fought back. She didn’t want to leave. This was it? They had been in the Trahiad for only a brief time. Maybe an hour or two at most. She had to leave already? I want to stay. I want to join!

  But a rough hand pushed against her back and forced her forward.

  “Elisa?” Wyatt whispered to her side. She reached her hand out, and he grabbed it. His hand was damp with sweat, but he gripped her hand firmly. She could tell he was nervous. His hand was shaking.

  Her heart pounded. She knew why he was nervous. If they didn’t succeed… Don’t finish that thought. Be strong!

  As she stepped forward, she felt a slight panic growing from within.

  What does Racin Poe value above all else?

  4

  The Alderidon Library

  It didn't take long for the University of Talar to become established. One of the side effects of our liberation was a hunger and thirst for knowledge, and the Talarians found themselves experts in the gift of learning. They quickly surpassed any other sect and became the chief scholars of Ardonor. We were grateful when they agreed to open a library in Alderidon.

  Elisa Ander couldn’t believe they were sitting in the Hogswallow Inn… again. She was just grateful that it was a quiet night, because on other occasions the Hogswallow could be a very nasty place.

  There were still a few of the same patrons—and the same smells—that were at the inn earlier that morning, though now they were passed out on benches or on the floor. This is a disgusting place. But it was where Wyatt wanted to meet. So here we are…

  She stared at her cup, still untouched, and she wasn’t even sure what was in it. She wasn't thirsty, or hungry, as was clear by the meal that was sitting cold on the table. She didn't even remember the servant girl bringing anything. Or paying for this.

  “Elisa,” Wyatt said. “It’s getting late, should we stop for tonight? Try to get some sleep instead?”

  What can we do? What would Racin Poe value above all else?

  “Elisa?” Wyatt asked. Then he cleared his throat. “Elisa!”

  Elisa looked up at her brother, startled. “What? You freaked me out, Wyatt! Why are you bloody yelling at me?”

  “Dragon’s blood,” Wyatt said, exasperated. “I said, should we stop for the night? You’re exhausted and not thinking straight, and I’m exhausted and cranky.”

  “Obviously,” Elisa said, scowling, “yelling at your younger sister like some big jerk. What is the deal?”

  Wyatt grunted. “And you need to eat. You haven’t eaten since breakfast. Eat the food,” he said as he pushed the plate toward her.

  She regarded the food for the first time and raised a lip in disgust. “You call that food?” she asked as she wrinkled her nose. There was what looked to be some kind of meat, with a white gravy on it—that is moving! Dear Creator are there bugs in this!—and a few veggies on the side that looked wilted and spoiled. “I’m not touching that. Don’t you remember the kitchens?”

  “I ate it,” Wyatt said. “And I’m fine. I didn’t get sick from this morning’s meal either, I might add.”

  “You eat anything,” Elisa said, pushing the food away. “I’m not eating that. Tell them to return it and get our money back.”

  “I didn’t pay for it,” Wyatt said. Then quieter he added, “Remember, we don’t have any money!”

  “I’m aware of that,” Elisa said harshly. “Just get rid of this food! I don’t want it!”

  Wyatt leaned back in frustration, and Elisa kicked him under the table.

  “Ow! Elisa!” he stammered.

  She smiled, and then he laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m so frustrated, I can’t think about what Racin would value. It’s driving me mad!”

  Wyatt laughed and rubbed his eyes. “All right, what if we try to rack our brains one more time, and then call it a night? If an idea doesn’t come tonight, perhaps we need to sleep on it, and we’ll have the idea tomorrow when we wake up. I honestly think better after I get some rest.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. “Very well. What’s your best idea?”

  “A dralchom,” Wyatt answered. “Everyone wants dralchoms. I had a friend who delivers them in town, he was making a lot of gold off of them. They are in high demand.”

  Elisa shook her head. “We’ve been through this, Wyatt. I agree dralchoms are in high demand—”

  “Highest demand!” Wyatt clarified.

  “But the Trahiad already have access to them. Didn’t you see the dralchemy shop when we walked through the city? How could a secret thieving organization survive without dralchoms? Dralchoms just don’t have enough value. They’re not unique enough.”

  “Then, draestl. What Elisa, don’t raise your eyebrow at me. Draestl is unique and valuable! If there is one thing that may be even more valuable than dralchoms—it’s draestl. You saw Racin’s sword! It’s a fine piece of draestlry. Yep, draestl it is.”

  “Again,” Elisa said patiently. “Your argument is good, but it’s not enough. Draestl? I know for certain I saw a draestlry shop. So they have access to it. The only way I can think of draestl having enough value is if we gained raw draestl. Do you know any Draebek who can handle it for us? I’m not willing to go mad. What good will a new life in the Trahiad be if I’m addicted to draestl!”

  “Rumors,” Wyatt said. “The addiction nonsense is just rumors and stories!”

  Elisa shook her head. “Even so, draestl is not valuable enough. Racin specifically said something that he would value. It has to be something personal. Just what could that be?”

  “I don’t know,” Wyatt said, frustrated again. “You’ve been asking that same question for the last two hours. I just don’t know.”

  He put his hands down on the table and stood up. “I need to go to bed. I'm literally about to pass out!”

  Elisa glared at her brother and then yawned herself.

  “See! You need some sleep too!” Wyatt said. “Come on Elisa, let’s revisit this in the morning. Shall we?”

  Finally, she nodded. “Where are we sleeping tonight?”

  “Just out back,” Wyatt answered. “Delia put out some pallets for us because of your ki
ndness this morning. Said she’ll keep anyone from disturbing us until morning.”

  “Really? That’s nice of her,” Elisa said as she followed Wyatt out back.

  The air was chilly, and the alleyway behind the Hogswallow Inn was tight and filled with garbage that reeked with a foul odor. She saw the pallet, covered with pieces of rotten food and crawling with bugs and rats. That’s nice, she thought glumly.

  Wyatt walked over to the pallet and picked it up. He tossed the garbage onto the ground, and then kicked the trash away, trying to make a spot clean enough for them to lie down on.

  “Well, curse me,” he said. “It’s not the cleanest, that’s for sure. But at least we don’t have to worry about getting mugged. Not that we have anything worth stealing.”

  Elisa nodded. “I appreciate it, Wyatt. I really do.”

  He reached into his bag and pulled out the single blanket they owned. “Chilly tonight. Here you go,” he said as he threw it at her. She grabbed it, and forced herself to lie down on the pallet, trying not to think of the things she had just seen crawling on it.

  “Good night, Elisa. I love you,” Wyatt said as he rolled onto his side and folded his arms. He only had the clothes on his back to keep him warm, just like every other night.

  “Love you too, brother,” Elisa said softly. She watched him fall asleep and pulled the blanket tighter around her to keep in the warmth. She felt bad for Wyatt, but he never seemed to mind, and he would refuse if she tried to give him the blanket. She watched as his breath became shallower and shallower until he started snoring in a slow steady hum.

  She closed her eyes and tried to turn off her mind, but it continued to race. Should we steal draestl? It’s rare enough if we can get our hands on some. No. Dralchoms? No!

  Her mind continued to race. She had to think of something.

  A gust of wind rattled the alleyway, and trash blew all over her. She shivered despite being wrapped in the blanket and sat up, pushing garbage off of her and trying to clear the pallet. She looked at Wyatt, who was visibly shivering. At least he’s still asleep.

  She lay back down and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She rolled over, only to hear a rat squeal, and she felt it slither away from under her. She nearly yelled out as she stood up in anger and tossed the blanket on the ground. I can’t do this. Her mind was awake, and she was definitely not sleeping tonight.

  Picking up the blanket, she placed it onto Wyatt as carefully as she could, and then she thought of what to do to occupy her time. The same thing I do every night.

  She headed for the library.

  The library was pitch black, as were most of the streets and the rest of the Senate District. It was well past midnight, late enough that only a few of the Alderidon Guards were still in rotation, walking in pairs as they always did. They were easy enough to avoid if you kept in the shadows. Like all thieves know… just stay in the dark.

  She wasn’t proud of her current circumstances and where her life had led her so far. Or that what she was most excited about in her life was joining a criminal organization. It’s the cards life dealt me, she reasoned.

  But there was something different about the Trahiad. The city itself was a wonder. A hidden city? So far in the sewers it could never be found. But it wasn’t a city of darkness, but of beautiful waterfalls, magnificent masonry, and simple majesty… it’s from another world.

  But it was the people that drew her to it. Sure, they were thieves—every one of them—but they were the upmost thieves, if there could be such a thief! They stole because they had to, not just because they wanted something that wasn’t theirs. It was the same reason she had stolen her entire life. I need to eat. Wyatt needs to eat. And they had values they lived by. She remembered the way they treated her even in the brief time she had been among them. They were kind, patient, welcoming… they’re a family…

  She thought of Racin Poe and immediately blushed as she remembered him handing her a single rose. She had never felt so—she blushed as she stopped that train of thought. Then anger began stirring as she remembered his arrogance. Though she believed in what Racin Poe had preached, she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted him. But then she stopped herself. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t enjoy needing him. She didn’t like the fact that she had to rely on someone else to free her from her current circumstances.

  She shook her head to clear her mind—sitting out here staring at the library will not help me find anything!—and looked up at the library. It was in the Senate District, so the building was significantly nicer than anything in the Slums, and a step up from the Merchant District. The library walls were made of bricks and stone, and gargoyles of dragons adorned every corner and edifice. It was one of the oldest buildings in Alderidon—some said it was the second building built after the palace—and she believed it. It was her favorite place in Alderidon, and she visited it nearly every night. Because I can’t sleep. Because when I try to fall asleep, I just lay there thinking how miserable my life is.

  A small lawn surrounded by a tall gate surrounded the library. It was currently locked. There were several trees on both sides of the gate, and she moved toward her favorite. Jumping slightly, she hooked her hands around a branch and swung upward. Her agile frame easily cleared the top of the gate, and she hooked it with her feet. Then, throwing her weight into her legs, she let go of the branch and let her momentum take her to the top of the gate.

  She caught her balance and looked around to see if anyone had spotted her. She assumed the lone guard was inside, worrying about anything other than guarding the entrance—after all, who breaks into a library? But her thieving instincts took over, and she looked around just to be certain.

  Feeling confident that she was alone, she quietly dropped to the ground and sprinted across the small yard to the north side of the building. Here, the bricks had been loosened over time and there were enough protruding from the walls it formed a makeshift ladder. At least for someone my weight. She had challenged Wyatt to attempt scaling the wall once, but before he even put half his weight on the bottom brick it snapped in half. She looked at it now and smiled. I hope Wyatt can get some sleep tonight.

  She climbed to a window on the second story. One that she always kept unlocked. It always surprised her at how tall the library was as she made quick work of the climb. She’d done it so many times she could have scaled it with her eyes closed. And possibly with one hand tied behind my back.

  Reaching the windowsill, she grabbed ahold of it and pulled herself up, resting her elbows on the sill while her fingers started nudging the windowpane back and forth. Soon it swung open, and she climbed inside.

  She smiled as the warm, dry air hit her. It was accompanied with the smell of dust, leather, and aged paper. It felt like home. At least I imagine this is what home would feel like. A place you are always welcomed. A place where you feel safe. A place where you could find joy even on the roughest of nights.

  The only light came through enormous windows—like the one she crawled through—from the moon and stars outside. But the moon was full, and it was an especially cloudless night, so she easily made her way toward the shelves of books. As she approached, she grabbed a small candle, and picked up the flint that was right next to it—right where I left it. Striking once, it ignited, and she almost giggled as the light reflected off the titles of her favorite books.

  She was in the historical section of the library. She wasn’t sure what drew her to this part of the library—she had started with loving the storybooks, the picture books, the books on warfare, on combat, and pretty much everything else in the library—but it was the historical books that had piqued and kept her interest the longest.

  She watched the candlelight dance among the book titles as she moved down the length of the shelf, looking for one in particular she wanted to read. It had been two days since she had read it last—which was a long time for her—and she knew that at a moment like this, when she was frustrated beyond reaso
ning, that a little dose of History of the Order would make her smile.

  She cursed herself for not putting them away where they belonged. She knew that she was practically the only person who visited this part of the library. Some viewed these historical books as things of the past, since most were written five hundred years ago or longer. Some scholars argued that history that old was outdated. But she disagreed. She found them invigorating. But since she was one of the few people to read these sections, she could only blame herself for the disheveled shelves. I need to become less lazy when I’m done reading. But truthfully, she knew she never would. She was always in a rush to get home before Wyatt woke up. The last thing she wanted was for Wyatt to wake up and wonder where she was. He has enough to worry about.

  At last she found a History of the Order, and she pulled it from the shelf. The cover felt familiar in her hands and she pulled it to her chest. She tried moving the candle to the side and nearly dropped it as she tried to balance the big tome and the candle at the same time. Laughing, she moved to her favorite chair—the only one with a little padding—set the candle down on a small table beside it, and opened the tome to her favorite sections. She read out loud in her favorite mimic of a professor of Toland.

  “Some say they formed the Order of the Dragon as a protector from the evil curse of dragon’s blood. And that the primary way of protection was by warfare. Though that purpose of the Order was true in the sense that they built it to be a protector, the means by which they protect is wrong. The Order protects Ardonor by creating a climate of learning. Think of what they built. A single place where dralchemists, draestlsmiths, warriors, and scholars could meet together, learn together, and develop together.”