Commandment (45 page)

The bon vivant shook his head. “Sadly, no. I’m afraid, for all practical purposes, the Thieves’ Cant died with its infamous masters.”

Lakif looked to her companion for support. Given the shroud of secrecy Torkoth preferred to maintain, Lakif half expected the guard to be a genuine thief already familiar with the code. Unfortunately, Torkoth was only mildly involved in the conversation. He was sniffing a plucked rose. Curiously, it was withered. The Half-man had the poor luck of picking the only tainted flower in the entire arboretum.

“So it’s worthless to us—another curiosity for the archives!” Lakif pouted. “But you said there was favorable news!”

“So I did. I have discovered another tidbit through
active
inquisition,” he stressed to accentuate his efforts. “Other manuscripts penned in Thieves’ Cant have surfaced from time to time over the decades. Rumor has it that more often than not they revealed the location of vast plundered treasures stashed by the Guild before its sudden collapse.”

“Rumor has it?” Lakif acted doubtful but was inwardly enthused at the lead. She couldn’t imagine where the scribe came by his intelligence. If all this business was true, Jonas could add super-sleuth to his list of qualifications.

“I say
rumor
because those who possessed the parchments were seldom forthright about their contents.”

“How were those other documents deciphered then, if to do so is such a chore?”

“Clearly, the owner of the parchment either had access to the rosetta stone or consulted with another who could break the code. That brings us to the titillating news. There seems to be one who collects such documents penned in Thieves’ Cant. I have learned that on at least one other occasion, he has paid handsomely to acquire one.”

“Do you think he has access to the rosetta stone?” Lakif was thrilled by this point.

“It seems doubtful, but there must be some reason for his keen interest in the documents.”

“Who is this man?” Lakif asked, hope buoying her tone. “Where can I find him?”

“First, we have a score to settle?” The scribe petitioned her with an open palm.

Lakif quickly forked over the three shekels. She was dejected to see only a couple of coins left in her pouch. But the scribe had so thoroughly whetted her appetite that she would have emptied her entire savings just to have him continue.

“Out with it. I bleed for each word!” She grabbed hold of the lead.

“I dare not say more!” Jonas cried melodramatically.

“Why?”

“It is said he guards his name most jealously. To casually speak it is tantamount to blasphemy!” Lakif rolled her eyes. Was the scribe playing up some angle to extort more coin from the Acaanan—to prime the pump for a tip?

“But there is no one here!” Lakif cried.

“Except us fools,” Torkoth added his two cents. He had been listening more than he let on.

Lakif surveyed their surroundings. The court was cool and quiet. The twin moons appeared on the horizon, and the shadowy roses painted images of splattered blood.

“Come here!” Lakif grabbed the scribe’s arm and led him to the base of the flowery ivy. As they crouched, she continued.

“Here we sit, sub-rosa, where no secrets leak out.” Lakif plucked a rose. “May he or she who squeals have their heart plucked out and wither like this flower. No, let Artemis turn him into a stag to be fed to the Calydonian boar! No, better yet—”

“Enough!” Jonas seemed satisfied. “I know not his real name, but he is known to all and sundry as Mammon.”

With that, the scribe stopped as if this alone was sufficient.

“And?” Lakif’s voice rose expectantly.

“You haven’t heard of him?”

“Should I have?” Lakif asked the pundit plainly. She looked to Torkoth for help, but her guard merely shrugged his shoulders.

Jonas looked shocked, even galled, at the Acaanan’s ignorance.

“He is the owner of the Transportation Guild, the corporation that controls all traffic through Thanatos! Mammon is the name he publically uses, but many say he guards his true name as carefully as his privacy. Few have ever actually seen him, and thus rumors abound. He lords from on high in the fabulous Palace Tantalin, seated in the clouds above Thanatos. The rumors of his life are surpassed only by those of his unimaginable wealth.”

“I see…” Lakif replied. Palace Tantalin! Although Lakif had never heard of it, the name conjured up intoxicating images of splendor. She knew that Thanatos was the district east of Grimpkin, although she had never visited it. But Jonas spoke of a palace in the sky above Thanatos! She remembered Bael’s suggestion that warlocks fly like dragons. Such an ethereal region was ideally positioned to be called on by an ambitious drake like herself. The gears of the Acaanan’s ever crafty mind were already tumbling and grinding, churning out plans.

“By heaven I charge thee, speak on.” Lakif beckoned her partner to come forward and huddle. “Jonas, fill our ears with stories of this marvelous place!”

The End

Maldiveria will be continued in Book III:
Enmity