The Vote

The Thieves Guild written by Ja Kerr the chapter seventy nine, the vote. Raylan swirled the heavy sweet wine in his cup. The sounds of the dinner, the scrape of silver, the murmur of Polo's self congratulation fading to background noise. He was focused on the echo of Pelos's whisper. Yes, guild Master, that is indeed, our captain, Rogers, our captain. Raylan looked across the table at the man Rogers. He had infiltrated not one, but two of the most powerful guilds. In ness. He had made himself a captain in Karch's merchant guild and a captain a hero in Polo's harvest Guild or while serving the Thieves. The sheer audacity of it, the skill was breathtaking. Raylan felt a sudden, sharp spike of pride. This was a true thief. Rogers looked nervous, and for good reason. He'd been discovered, of course, by Carch. There's no hiding when you are carted out like a show horse in front of everyone. But no one had believed Karch after Roger's brutal denial. Raylan believed him, not because he felt that Karch had suddenly turned honest, but simply because the lie was so absurd, it would not come from Cart's mouth. Karch was too good and too devious for that. Still, Rogers looked nervous. He kept glancing around the table, which was a reasonable thing to do for someone thrust into the center of a conflict. But Roger's eyes kept lingering on one man, not Carch, not Polo, but Quinto. Raylan's own eyes followed the look, and what he saw or confused him. Quinto looked a mixture of shocked and confused. It made no sense. Rogers was nervous. Carch was a barely contained ball of fury. Polo was a preening, over confident blow hard. But Quinto the honorable, unshakable Guildmaster Knight, who everyone had told Raylan was the calm in a storm. Well, he looked like he had more to hide than any one. His knuckles were white on his cup, his jaw was set so tight it must ache. Why what game was Quinto playing? The thought of hidden games drew Raylan's attention to Carch. He let the hatred he felt for the man, the memory of the mockery, the beatings, and the insults wash over him. I could make his life hell right now, Raylan thought. A younger Raylan wouldn't have hesitated to do so. But to day he saw what Rebecca had shown him. An ambitious Carch was a known carch, a predictable problem, and in a city of snakes, a predictable vice was almost a comfort. Carch, in his desperation, was relying entirely on Vesper. Raylan's gaze shifted to the blade. Vesper was, by all appearances, simply enjoying his meal. His face was a stone faced mask of respect, but his eyes, when they weren't on his plate, were alive. They darted from Polo to Quinto to Roger's cataloging. Assessing he likes this, Raylan realized he loves watching them all flounder while his path is clear. Rogers was a powerful ally to have as the guild master of the Craft Guild. Yet Vesper was also a thief and also in line for the position. But could he trust him? Raylan thought again of Vesper's plea in the tower, his raw connection to its magic. A lard had trusted him. Maeler, who was tougher than Flint, had traveled with him and trusted him as well. That meant something. Vesper's loyalty was a sharp, dangerous thing, but it seemed or now to be pointed in the right direction. Guild Master Raylan, Polo's voice, now oily and warm, sliced through his thoughts. I must say, in the light of these candles and in the warmth of this wine, I'm grateful for your presence. I can thank you in person for the care your guild gave to my guild members after your brother drove them away and burned down their homes. The tone was so different from the threatening, demanding letter that Polo had sent Raylan that he almost laughed. He's afraid, Raylan realized he needs my vote, and that is why I know you will see the value in a man like Captain Rogers, a hero, a man of the people. As Polo began his speech anew Raylan tuned him out, his gaze sweeping the exits, he assessed his own position. He was trapped. Felo's a silent mountain at his back, was more than a match for Quinto's man Jackson and Polo's deputy Esma combined, but the harvest guards at the door were loyal to Polo. Polo hadn't threatened violence, and Raylan was fairly certain that Polo wouldn't just coat the floor in red if Raylan didn't vote the way he wanted, but fairly certain wasn't certain. The dinner finally mercifully ended. Servants cleared the plates. A heavy, expectant silence fell. Polo clapped his hands together, a sharp, proprietary sound. Well, the dinner is over. We have no other business than the one item we have gathered to settle. We will vote on the elevation of the new craft Guildmaster. He smiled, as if it were a foregone conclusion. Guildmaster Quinto Quinto paused long enough that Polo looked uncomfortable. Finally he spoke, his voice strong and even, I vote for Captain Rogers. Excellent, Guildmaster couch Carch's lip curled. I vote for Vesper and I vote for Captain Rogers. Polo looked giddy as he looked at Raylan. The arrogant fool just assumes I'll vote for the hero, Raylan thought. Polo's smile didn't waver. He turned his full benevolent attention to Raylan. The entire room seemed to lean in and our deciding vote Guild Master Raylan. Raylan looked at the two candidates. He looked at Rogers, his captain, a man so valuable as a spy he was irreplaceable. To put him on a throne was to lose him forever. He looked at Vesper, a killer, a man who craved the Tower's magic, a man Allard trusted. Polo wanted a puppet. Carch wanted a weapon. Neither of them wanted the Craft Guild to have a choice. But a tie, a two two tie with that changed the game. That would take the power from the four men at this table, and by the guild's own ancient laws, give it to the captains of the Craft Guild itself. It would let them choose. Raylan met Polo's confidant, smiling gaze. He wasn't voting for Vesper, not really. He wasn't voting for Rogers either, although that was perhaps the safest move In the end, Raylan could only consider one vote, a vote for the guild to decide its own fate. I vote for Vesper. A Podcast Alchemy production