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

imagine how anyone could sleep. A cacophony of barnyard birds announced the sunrise. And the hay, though soft, pricked in sensitive places and was spread too thin to really make the wooden floorboards anything but uncomfortable.
    Finding shelter in one of the farmyard barns had been Avrilla’s idea. She had picked one, seemingly at random and they had gotten inside just before the rain started. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm that had shaken the barn as soon as they had broken in was now retreating south along the coastline. Between thunderclaps, lightning flashes, and the drumming of rain on the roof, Chazd had not found sleep easily. Eventually exhaustion took over.
    Despite still being tired this morning, Chazd could not quiet his thoughts. He turned the night’s events over and over in his head. He kept imagining the worst experiences of being burned alive. Even as he anguished over it, he knew his brother would not have left their father to that fate. Father must have been dead or dying when Jaeron found him.
    Who could have known about the job last night? As Chazd asked himself the question, he wondered if that were the reason their father had been killed. Jaeron’s explanation was too confusing. He clenched his fists into the blanket. He was so angry with his brother for that. But how could he blame Jaeron for being too upset to put together a coherent story. Whatever information Jaeron had obtained from their father had certainly scared him. What else would have driven him to flee from the city?
    He wanted answers to more questions than it seemed like Jaeron was asking. His brother was not that naïve. He knew that his father could have made enemies over the years. Chazd understood they could not be thieves in Islar and remain on good terms with everyone. Particularly among the Guilds. Father may have avoided embroiling their family in Bormeer guild politics, but that did not mean they were immune from them.
    ~
    Coatie Shaels had only taken a single bite of his spiced turnip porridge when he saw the signal from the Westbend Tavern’s proprietor. It was a summons from Ortelli, which meant he would not be able to finish his coffee, let alone his breakfast. Still he raised the fired pottery mug and blew across the top of the dark brown liquid, hoping to cool it enough to take another bitter swig. Thinking it was too early for work, Shaels pulled a few zecca from his coin purse, dropped them on the table, and sipped one more mouthful of the hearty drink. Then he rose and left the tavern.
    Coatie squinted into the misty morning outside. The weather had taken an unpleasant turn during the night and a thick gray fog floated through the Pineal Ward, remnants of the first storm of the season. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and then headed toward Ortelli’s city residence and office. Only a week from my thirty-fifth birthday, and look how my life has turned out. He had never intended to become a thief. Certainly his family had higher aspirations for him.
    Years before he had come to know Victor Ortelli, Coatie's father, Lamar Shaels, was a prominent navigator, holding a seat on the Navigator's College and made a good living despite making only a few voyages each year. He trained the more exceptional graduating students and his signature on a new guildsman navigator’s credentials was a measure of prestige and highly sought by those aspiring to please the Bormeeran trading companies.
    Coatie was nine years old when his brother, Roark, finished his apprenticeship and signed on with his father onboard The Clemency for his induction voyage. No one was surprised when Roark completed his study at age fourteen, a year younger than most other navigators. Amongst the guilds, they said he was his father's son. Coatie supposed that many would have expected the same show of talent from him. He never got the opportunity.
    The Clemency never returned to Dun Lercos. The trading company eventually claimed the ship and