The Thief's Gamble

by Juliet E. McKenna

  It was simple enough really; I needed to get in and out without being seen and we wanted a good smelly scent for the Watch to follow when Yeniya started screaming theft, as well as a defence hewn in stone in case I was somehow spotted. Frem told us when her servants were due their next night off and Darni and Geris spent the intervening evenings striking up a drinking friendship with the aggrieved nephew, encouraging him to pour out his complaints ever more loudly and extravagantly. I watched all this one evening from a quiet corner. The pair of them could have taken their act to the Looking Glass; I really had not thought they had it in them, but they were brilliant. I followed our diversion home a couple of nights, and soon had the measure of his small house and its simple locks. Once he had a handful of Yeniya's jewels hidden in his chimney, he should keep the Watch entertained long enough to let us make a casual and completely unremarkable departure a couple of days after the Watch stopped quizzing everyone leaving the city.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Taken from:

  The Yeoman's Almanac for the Ocean Coast

  Sostire Heriod

  Containing comprehensive schedules and instructions for all farming, husbandry and household tasks

  Schedule of Seasons as Governed by the Moons and Notable Customs thereof

  Winter Solstice

  Sacred to Poldrion Greater and Lesser Moons Full

  Gidesta: White pelt sales. Inglis Frost Fair (Wolf-bounty paid). Dalasor: Mistle Fairs. Riding the Bane-horse. Tormalin: Coin taxes. Winter Assizes. Soulsease Night.

  Aft-Winter

  Sacred to Misaen

  Lasts until end of Second Dark of the Greater Moon Gidesta: Skull-setting to 20th day; Sled-motes thereafter. Dalasor: Marking and blessing the herds. Marrying the Mares. Tormalin: First-flower maidens crowned. Patrons' market-doles.

  For-Spring

  Sacred to Halcarion Lasts until end of Second Dark of the Lesser Moon

  Gidesta: Rite of Dastennin's Step when ice breaks. Inglis fur sales. Dalasor: Horning the Ram-lamb. Forage sales on the Drove Road. Tormalin: Plough-dressing, seed-blessing. Fixing the doorthorns.

  Spring Equinox

  Sacred to Raeponin

  Greater Moon waning, Lesser Moon waxing Gidesta: Mining Contracts sealed, Inglis. Apothecary Fair. Dalasor: Minstrel Day. Lots drawn for summer water-rights. Tormalin: Herd taxes. Convocation of Houses. Blossom-singing.

  Aft-Spring

  Sacred to Arrimelin

  Lasts until Greater and Lesser Moons are both Full. Gidesta: Riverboats commence. Mountain-mote at Gerrad's Peak. Dalasor: Paying the Eldritch Wayleave. Ishelwater Races. Tormalin: Tenure services due. Blessing the hulls and nets.

  For-Summer

  Sacred to Ostrin

  Lasts until Last Quarter of Second Greater Moon. Gidesta: Wool sales and Dyestuff Mart, Inglis. Dock festivals. Dalasor: Shearing. Smoking out the Tick-King. Ring-feathering. Tormalin: Hay-making. Crop-riding days. Rushing the Shrines.

  Summer Solstice

  Sacred to Saedrin Greater Moon Dark.

  Gidesta: Guild Elections in Inglis. Pacifying the Mountains. Dalasor: Dairy fairs and cheese-racing. Whitenight fires. Tormalin: Summer Assizes. Land taxes due. Emperor's Dole.

  Aft-Summer

  Sacred to Larasion

  Lasts until Second Full of the Greater Moon. Gidesta: Apothecaries' Markets. Cloth-sales. Shrine-ales. Dalasor: Crowning the Stones. Dousing the herds. Tormalin: Rose Mart. Shrine Wake-nights. Corn-plaiting.

  For-Autumn

  Sacred to Dastennin

  Lasts through Full Dark until Greater Moon waxes. Gidesta: Close of mining season. Ore-tithe to the Mountains. Dalasor: Herd-motes. Smith-motes. Foster-motes. Tormalin: Harvest. Selling Ostrin's Pig. Sea-salt sales.

  Autumn Equinox

  Sacred to Drianon

  Greater and Lesser Half-Moons. Gidesta: Metal and Gem Fair, Inglis. Rock-salt sales. Dalasor: Cattle fairs on Drove Road. Sounding the Horn-chain. Tormalin: Meat, milk and wool taxes due. Boundary walking.

  Aft-Autumn

  Sacred to Talagrin

  Lasts until Second Full of the Lesser Moon. Gidesta: Sale of Guild prenticeships. Journeyman quit-rents. Dalasor: Planting the Winter-stake. Hide sales. Nut-fairs. Tormalin: Wheat-queening. Last Calf feasts. Open wood-gathers.

  For-Winter

  Sacred to Maewelin

  Lasts until Second Full of the Greater Moon. Gidesta: Candle-auctions for trapping tracts. Ice races, Inglis. Dalasor: Burning the Ails-faggot. Dressing the Sentinel-trees. Tormalin: Green-branching the Shrines. Cording the roads.

  Inglis, 10th of Aft-Autumn

  The night for our little enterprise arrived and Shiv and I set out. Later Geris was going to bring the hapless nephew back to the inn for a friendly game of runes. Shiv had left a few spells to guarantee no one would be able to remember seeing the man and I had left Geris a rather special set of bones to make sure he could control the game. I'd spent a few evenings teaching him some tricks and the combination of his nimble fingers and naive manner could be quite devastating. I almost found myself wondering if we might not have a longer-term future after all; cosy nights together in a feather bed did a lot to encourage such ideas.

  It was chilly and dark out, but the streets were lit by the flambeaux at wealthy doors and the linkmen with their lanterns. I took a swig of the juniper liquor I was carrying and then poured a little over my clothes and hair. I had to be careful; there was no point in being invisible later on if everyone was wondering where the smell of a pot-still was coming from. We found a quiet tavern in the kind of respectable neighbourhood that Watchmen like to look after and I launched into my celebrated impression of a drunk, maudlin and argumentative by turns. Perhaps I should audition for Judal too. It was not long before the taverner sent out a boy with a message.

  'Come on, sweetheart, let's find somewhere for you to have a nice lie-down.'

  'He said he loved me, he swore it.'

  'I'm sure he did.' The Watchman half carried me out and escorted me firmly to the lock-up. I judged him Lescari, by his accent, and keen, by his shiny breast-plate.

  I didn't see Shiv following but the cell door had not been long shut when I was caught up in a dizzying invisible spiral of air. I felt completely disoriented and not a little sick so I shut my eyes to find myself standing next to Shiv when I opened them. I managed not to vomit on his shoes; I did not think that would be much of a thank you.

  'Come on.' We moved as fast as we could without attracting attention.

  'I've left an illusion of you sleeping,' Shiv whispered.

  'Good thinking.' There's always something that doesn't occur to you and I was beginning to wonder if Shiv might be amenable to working with me and Halice in the future.

  We found the discreet alley by Yeniya's house where Darni was waiting.

  'She came back at seventh chime and hasn't gone out again yet. The servants left just before dusk.'

  I frowned. We knew Yeniya was due to be dining with her jurist and we were counting on the fact that she'd never yet been seen wearing the chain with evening gowns.

  'All right, get back and help Geris.'

  Darni left and Shiv worked his magic on me. It felt really odd; I could see myself but dimly, as if I were a shadow. I took off my cloak and when I dropped it at Shiv's feet, he jumped as it became visible.

  'Get back to the inn,' I whispered.

  'What if there's a problem? What if she's not going out after all?' His gaze went somewhere past my right ear.

  'I'll deal with it from here. We don't want anyone seeing you hanging about.'

  He left and I crossed the street to take the steps down to the kitchen yard. It rather took the fun out of it, not having to watch, wait and hug the shadows. Should I go in or not? I was invisible, after all, and we knew the servants had left. Should I risk trying to find my way around the house if Yeniya was still in there? What could she be doing alone in an empty house? I could think of a few things; one at least would mean she was not a
ctually on her own. Was that so bad? If she was busy playing stuff the chicken with some handsome lackey, they'd be unlikely to hear me playing house cat. I only hoped she had a separate dressing-room and did not keep her jewellery in the bedchamber. Good sex may make you think the earth is spinning, but it doesn't make caskets open of their own accord or things float through the air. I made up my mind to go inside anyway; if it all looked impossible, I'd just sneak out again and we'd have to come up with something new.

  The kitchen and basement were dark and the locks soon gave in. I crept through the echoing darkness of the kitchen, sliding my feet along the smooth flagstones. The lingering smells of laundry and baking mixed with the hot metal scent of the range, teasing my memory; I had been reared in a place like this. There was no sign of food preparation, so Yeniya and her swain were apparently not dining in. That was a relief, but what was going on? We'd been watching her for days now, and she was usually as regular as the rains in Aldabreshi. Something was starting to feel very wrong as I skirted the long scrubbed table and headed for the door. I was starting to wish Shiv was still waiting outside or, better yet, in here too.

  I crept up the stairs and into the richly furnished hall. Even in the gloom, it made the house where I'd grown up look tawdry; Yeniya or her late husband had taste as well as coin. Lustrous vases shimmered in alcoves, passing flashes of light through the windows threw splashes of colour on to the pictures that lined the walls. Dried flowers in silver stands scented the air; the house was confident, beautiful and serene. I stole silently up the carpeted steps to the first floor and found that the lady herself was now anything but these things.

  Whoever they were, they'd shown no mercy. Her elegant and painted fingers had been brutally snapped, with the broken bones worked savagely against each other, ivory splinters gleaming in the ruin of the flesh. Blood on her once flawless face showed how she'd bitten right through her lip, silently eloquent of her agony, while tears made a sorry mess of her fashionable make-up. Clumps of her lustrous brown hair had been ripped out bodily leaving the rest stickily matted. The stains of bruises round her neck had stopped darkening when death finally released her but I could see the pattern of repeated strangling and release clearly enough. Her wrists and ankles showed the prints of vicious hands, and the blood and pale stains on her green satin shift told me why. Had the rape been part of the torture, or a bonus for the boys? A dagger thrust through one eye had ended her torment but the other, glazed and rimmed with blood, stared straight at me, the bright blue dimmed in death. That eye beseeched me; why had this had happened to her?

  I pressed my hands against my mouth until I got a grip of myself. This was a whole new throw of the runes. I forced myself to gather my wits; I had to find out all I could and then get clear. I reached to pull the ripped shift to cover her torn nakedness but stopped myself just in time. If wizards were working with the Watch, who knew what they could discover about who had been here and why. I must not touch anything.

  I forced myself to ignore the pitiable corpse and looked around the room. It was an office and the invaders had ransacked it comprehensively. Parchments were strewn around the floor, torn, trampled and bloody. I squinted at some, blessing my Forest sight; they were business documents and even to my untrained eye looked significant, detailing percentages, commissions and purchase agreements. I glanced over at the body again; that much work had taken time. She was not gagged or bound, there were no bruises round her mouth to betray a stifling hand; the savage assault had to have made an unholy noise. Why had no one heard her screams? Why had Darni not heard her? I moved to the window; I could see the entrance to the alley where he had kept watch. This had happened while she was dressing for her dinner engagement; where was her maid? I wondered queasily. How had her assailants got in?

  A massive strongbox was set against one wall, bolted to it if I'm any judge. The lid was up, though for the life of me I couldn't see how they had got it open; there were no keys anywhere about. More papers were scattered about and a stack of soft leather bags whispered seductively to me. I was not in the least tempted but something looked odd. I had a closer look at the contents, pushing things aside with my dagger point, and then sat back on my heels, frowning. There must have been coin in here; a few coins had slipped between the papers but the rest had gone. There was some jewellery left in the scattered velvet wrappings but those lovely pouches of polished gems had been left alone.

  What was this all about? A hit on a strongbox to snatch coin is a fast robbery, in and out and spend the goods that same night, ideally on something you can resell fast. Why leave nice, untraceable gems behind and take highly identifiable jewellery? Torture is a long job and risky in a place like this - why torture at all for that matter? If they wanted information on her business and property, they had left stacks of it trampled underfoot. Come to that, Yeniya was a significant player in her own trade but there were bigger fish. What could she know that was worth this risk in a city where cut-purses got their necks stretched for a first offence? It all smelled very rank. I looked into the chest again; should I search for that chain? No, I'd bet it was long gone with whoever had killed Yeniya. I felt cold; was that what they had been after all along? I had no reason to think so but I was convinced all the same. Stuff this, time for me to leave.

  I looked into the chest; should I take something to plant on the nephew anyway? No, he may have been an idiot and greedy with it but he did not deserve to get dropped any deeper into this mire. Was there anything of any use to us at all? Nothing that could be worth the risk of being tied to this crime.

  I moved to the door and froze, heart pounding as I heard a soft noise in the hall below. Idiot, I told myself, it's probably just the kitchen cat. Probably, but what if it wasn't? I looked down at my hands, still nice and shadowy, but I cursed myself as I realised I had not been listening out for the chimes. How much longer could I rely on this handy concealment? I moved slowly to a dark corner and leaned cautiously forward until I could just see over the banister. The darkness in the well of the stairs was inky black but a passing lantern sent a gleam through the windows and I saw a shadow move quickly under the stairs. I stood perfectly still and watched as the shadow split and a dark figure ran silently down the hallway towards the kitchen.

  I padded up to the next floor on silent feet, heart racing as I forced myself to move carefully round the ornaments. What had seemed elegantly decorative earlier was now just so much inconvenient clutter. I paused to calm my breathing and strained my ears for any sound of pursuit. I could hear nothing, but I was not happy. The doors around me were all closed and I did not want to risk squeaky hinges giving me away, however unlikely in a house so well maintained. I moved down the hallway with agonising stealth on the polished floorboards. Which of the doors at the end led to the back stairs? I pressed my face to the crack of each and was rewarded by the faint kiss of a draught on my lips. I tried the handle and blessed Halcarion as it moved silently and I found the servants' route to the basement.

  There was no light at all. Even my Forest sight failed me and I had to feel my way down each step with hesitant feet, forcing aside fears of some unknown hand coming up out of the blackness to grab me. I had to concentrate on getting out of there before Shiv's spell wore off. My right hand was running down the panels of the wall to keep me balanced while I had my dagger ready in my left; an irregularity in the wood caught my finger and I stopped, wondering what it was. No thicker than a knife blade, the line ran round the moulding of the panel and when I pressed lightly on it, it gave a little. I let out a slow breath; could this be the door to the warehouse? It was in the right place and that would make sense. If I got out of here, I'd have to lay off the runes for a season, I was using up luck at such a rate.

  I ran suddenly shaky fingers round the panel; there had to be a lock or a catch. Nothing. Stuff it. I rubbed my hands together till they stilled and tried again. This time I found a piece of moulding that slid aside to reveal a small hole. A lock; a catch would h
ave been better but I lost no time getting to work with a lockpick while the dark silence pressed in all around me.

  There, I had it. I was through and locking it behind me faster than a rat out of a burning barn. Once I had it secure, I turned to see where I was. The roof was lost in the blackness above but I could just make out tall racks marching away from me in neat lines. I could smell the harshness of new dye and, when I stretched out a searching hand, I felt the reassuring smoothness of broadcloth. I moved fast and headed for the far side where I knew there were doors. I only hoped there were no Watchmen, private or guild-employed; another thing I should have thought to check in advance. A faint scent vaguely like that of a damp dog told me I was among the fur stock and I peered into the gloom for the way out.

  A footfall ahead froze me. I almost thought I had imagined it but a few seconds later it came again, the click of a steel-rimmed boot sole on the flagstones. I took a side turning and reached into the furs; was there anywhere to hide? No good. I looked at the racks; were they sturdy enough to climb? Perhaps, but as I weighed up the risks, my head suddenly started to swim. I blinked but the disorientation got worse and worse; it was like having an instant fever. I took a step forward but could not remember which way I had been heading. I turned to go back but that did not feel right either; my knees buckled and my hands started shaking. The tall racks of furs loomed, shifting and crossing in front of me, pressing down from above until I felt like screaming. The smell became a sickening, choking stench and my breath started rattling in my chest. I turned again and fell to my knees as the floor lurched beneath me. I clung to the flagstones as if I was afraid of falling off. The urge to scream was building in my throat but in some sane corner of my delirious mind I knew I must not do it. I bit my tongue hard and the bitterness of blood filled my mouth. The pain seemed to help clear my thoughts and I dived under the lowest shelf of pelts with the last of my control.

  As I lay there, shaking my head and trying desperately to get a grip on my scattered wits, I saw a pair of black boots walk silently up the aisle. The rub of leather on leather whispered past and I lay as still as a statue on a shrine. As the almost imperceptible steps receded, my head cleared and I lay there frantically trying to work out which way the door would be. As I racked my brains, I became aware of a faint light ahead of me. I shuffled forwards with agonising care but what I saw made me think I was going under the delirium again. Footprints were gleaming on the stones, not with any of the colours of magelight but with a faint luminescence like the moonfire you get on ships. I stared and then a shock ran though me as I realised those were my steps being outlined for whoever was chasing me. I wriggled round to check my boot soles but there was nothing on them so there was no point in taking them off.