Thief's Covenant (A Widdershins Adventure) by Ari Marmell

me?”
    Another sigh. “I think we both know who ordered the attack on you, don't we, my dear?”
    Widdershins nodded, but said nothing. It wouldn't do to mention names in front of an outsider, not even one she trusted.
    But…
    “Even she'd need an excuse, Renard. She doesn't have the authority to just decide to take out a member.” Not yet, anyway.
    “No, she doesn't. But the guild is cracking down on anyone who, um, forgets to pay their dues in full. They're gathering up all outstanding funds, since the plan is to suspend all major operations for the duration of the visit. Avoid any unpleasant attention, and all that.”
    Widdershins paused in the act of reaching for the decanter. “Visit? What visit?”
    “You haven't heard?” Renard boggled, and even Genevieve stared in puzzlement. “You hang out in a tavern, you frequent the homes of the rich and powerful, and you haven't heard?”
    “So I don't pay attention to the small talk. What are you on about?”
    “Shins,” Genevieve told her, “William de Laurent is coming to Davillon.”
    Widdershins's eyes looked as though they might pop from their sockets and careen across the table like billiard balls. William de Laurent, archbishop of Chevareaux, was the greatest High Church official west of the Blackridge Mountains, inferior only to the twelve cardinals and the prelate himself. If he was coming here, important affairs of church and state were quite clearly afoot. Possibly even the appointment of a new bishop to Davillon, a position that had sat unoccupied since Bishop Fontaine had died of a fever a couple of years before.
    All right, so that would obviously be important to the city, the aristocracy, and the devout masses. But, “Why does the Finders' Guild give a fig about that?”
    “Because,” Renard said, idly stroking his whiskers with a well-manicured finger, “if anything untoward happens during His Eminence's visit, the duchess and the Guard will come down on us so hard they'll be picking bits of us out from between the cracks in the cobblestones.” His attention flickered to Genevieve, who somehow managed to look vaguely puzzled through an otherwise impenetrable mask of worry.
    “Have you never wondered, my dear, why the city doesn't just smash us flat?”
    “I'd sort of assumed,” Genevieve offered hesitantly, “that someone else would just take your place. At least this way, they can keep an eye on you.”
    “Well…” Renard frowned, and Widdershins couldn't help but snicker. So much for impressing the lady, Lambert.
    “Yes, that's true,” he confessed. “But it's more than that. There've been times when they wanted to get rid of us, but the city's never declared war on the guild itself. It wouldn't be worth the bloodshed and financial repercussions, sure. Primarily, though, it's because of the Hallowed Pact.”
    The barkeep glanced at her friend. “He's not seriously trying to tell me that the gods want Davillon to leave its thieves alone.”
    Widdershins shrugged. “I'm not up on my theology, but yeah. The Shrouded God—”
    “Our patron,” Renard interjected with an oddly reverential tone.
    “Yeah.” Widdershins rolled her eyes so only Genevieve could see. “He's supposed to be one of the Pact, though I couldn't tell you which one. And since Davillon's patron is part of the Pact, and Demas of the Guard is part of the Pact…”
    Genevieve understood. “So no wars between them. The Church forbids it.”
    “Precisely.” Renard nodded, but his frown remained. “Still, the guild's nervous about making a nuisance of itself with a High Church official present. The archbishop just might have the authority to sanction an exception to laws forbidding an open conflict. Or he might not. Honestly, even our priests aren't entirely clear on the issue. In any case, we don't want to give him cause to consider it, or give the city cause to ask him. Better to lie low and sit this out. So the guild is snatching up what funds they can, and