by Red Culver
"I beg your pardon?" the captain huffed.
"My master will be attending the opening next week, he is very concerned for his well-being. And I must say, I can see why. I'm sure I don't need to tell you of the many enmities between certain parties who will be in attendance. Well. A child could stroll in here with a halberd unimpeded, so you tell me whether or not one of the city's finest could slip in a poison dagger."
"How dare you!" cried the guard captain, his face getting red. "Madame, you may scamper home to your master and inform him we have his security well in hand. Every attendee shall be thoroughly searched, I assure you, and their weapons taken."
"And furthermore—" Cerissa raved, as though she hadn't heard him.
"Madame!"
"And furthermore, you lot of warriors' guild rejects couldn't tell a flametongue longsword from a butter knife. The Deceiver knows how you intend to weed out magic charms from jewelry."
One of the seated guards, who had been watching this display in much the same wide-eyed amazement as I had, piped up. "That blue lady seemed to have the magic detection in hand—"
"Shut it!" snapped the captain, and the guardsman snapped his mouth closed. "Ma'am, I promise you, your master need not worry. Now if you please, we are in the middle of hammering out exactly the arrangements that will keep you lot safe."
He ushered Cerissa back out of the guard station, and I trotted along behind her. As we passed through the double doors leading out to the promenade, I glanced back to see the guards in their glass room pulling playing cards from where they'd hidden them when we'd come in.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Detect Magic
1 HP HEALED!
Current HP: 3
Maximum HP: 9
The next morning, Cerissa and I sat on the rug in our room at the Red Donkey. All of her gear was spread out before us. For a mushroom farmer, she was a pretty well-equipped thief. I watched as she made neat rows from lockpicks, climbing gear, half a dozen daggers, multiple sets of clothes, even a miniature crowbar.
"Here's the problem," I said as she worked. "I mean, not the only problem, but the big one. Well, one of the big ones. Mordred knows what we both look like. If he catches even a glimpse of us, he'll know something's up."
"Yup," said Cerissa.
"And to get the roguelock, which we assume he'll be wearing, we'll need to take it off him. Without getting turned to ash."
"Sure," she agreed, without looking up.
"So we need a way to separate him from the amulet."
"No we don't." Cerissa sat back on her haunches and admired her display. "The guards're gonna do that for us."
"What? How?"
"You heard the captain," she said. "They'll be confiscatin' weapons. And they've got a zeel handling magic detection, which means they'll be taking charms as well."
Knowledge Skill Throw: 1 + 2 = 3
Failure!
"A zeel?" I shook my head.
"One of the six races," Cerissa said. She nudged a couple of her daggers so they made a straight line with the others. "The ones with blue skin? They come from the Isle of White Towers, remember? Well, most of them stay there, studyin' and whatever, but some of them travel. They like to hire on as magicians. I figure this fella will be standin' at the door with the guards, casting detect magic as folk come in. Probably detect evil, too."
"Detect evil?" That sounded serious.
"Don't worry, shouldn't light us up. Unless you're a proper devil or somethin', it can only sense evil intentions toward the caster. It's pretty crude for this sort of security, but they do it because why not? And of course we won't have any problems from the detect magic if we don't bring anything magical."
"If you say so." I ran my hands over my face. "So what, this zeel will detect magic on Mordred's roguelock and confiscate it?"
"You bet."
"And do what with it?"
"You saw that door behind the guard station?" Cerissa looked up at me.
"Uh, yeah." I hadn't, but I wasn't about to admit that to her.
"Secure vault. They'll stash everything they confiscate at the door in there. Then when you leave, you get your stuff back."
"Like a coat check," I said. Cerissa shrugged. "Okay, but Mordred's whole point in going to this thing is to be seen wearing the roguelock. Why would he let them take it?"
"What choice does he have? Make a big scene, get kicked out?" Cerissa laughed. "There's a good first impression." She shook her head. "No, he'll let 'em take it. He'll mingle a bit, get his name around, then break into the vault and get it back. Everyone will know what he did, which won't hurt his rep either."
"And then we're back to our original problem of getting an amulet off the neck of a super-powerful wizard."
"Nope."
"No?" I asked in frustration. "Why not?"
"Because by then we'll have stolen it." Cerissa smiled, a smile I was learning to recognize as her sign of pleasure with some particular piece of deviousness.
"From the vault?"
"From the vault. Which will be locked. With a guard inside." She stood up. "C'mon, let's go shopping."
Our first stop was a clothier. I'd felt conspicuous ever since I dropped into this world in a T-shirt and jeans, and Cerissa agreed so wholeheartedly that she was willing to spend a little coin to fix it. In a plain white tunic and loose brown trousers, I felt much more at home in Borealis.
A trip to the armorer saw me fitted with armor of boiled leather that sat comfortably over my clothes to protect my chest and arms.
Leather armor equipped!
Armor Class: 12
"Looks good," said Cerissa, eyeing me. "You'll fit right in. You sure you don't want somethin' heavier?"
I almost told her I only had light armor proficiency, but I caught myself in time. "I've only trained to use the, uh, lighter sorts of armors."
Nice save, boss, said Flik.
Stay out of my thoughts, I shot back at him. Where have you been, anyway? I would have thought criminal activity would be right up your alley.
You know, I think you're the first Wayfarer I've ridden with who went the thief route. Dungeons? No problem. Deep forests? Craggy mountains? I laugh. But crime is new to me. Flik did his weird mental shrug again.
While I've got your attention, I thought, let me ask you something. You said I get experience points when I spend money. Well, I just bought some armor. Where's my XP?
Flik clicked his tongue, or at least he made some sort of ticking noise. Nice try, boss. Doesn't work like that. The elf gave you that money. You have to earn it yourself.
Does stealing it count?
"Okay, got the look down," said Cerissa. "You sure you won't take that weird thing off your eyes?" I shook my head. There was no way I was giving up my shades. She made a face. "Fine. You can bring my sword and one of my daggers."
"Won't they just get taken away at the door?" I asked. I still wanted to bring them, though.
"Sure, but then they'll get put in the vault. You never know. Plus, it would be weird for my enforcer to show up empty-handed."
"Enforcer?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Yep. I'm the beautiful, talented, somewhat mysterious heiress to the legacy of a famed lady thief. You're my thug."
Cerissa turned before I could respond and set off down the twisting streets of Gate. I followed, musing at the luck that had thrown me into this particular world and set me up with such a useful friend.
Our next stop was a jeweler's shop. From what I could tell, we had entered a rough part of town. The streets here were little more than alleys, cramped and shadowed, a stark contrast with the broad, sunny boulevard where we'd bought my armor. The shop made a crooked triangle at the corner of two short side streets.
A little bell jangled as we entered. Inside, the place reminded me more of a pawn shop than somewhere you'd want to go to buy an engagement ring. It was cluttered and a bit dusty, though a small workbench in the back looked clean and tidy.
"Hello
hello!" chirped a voice, making me jump. A furry creature that was as much cat as human popped up from behind the shop's small counter.
Race: masska
She— the masska definitely had a feminine sort of shape— looked like she'd been sewn together like a quilt of scraps. She had patches of solid brown here and there, and a tuft of white fur peeked out the top of her fitted blue peacoat, but mostly she was a motley of stripes, spots, and calico. She wore a red bandana, with holes cut for her big triangular ears. A few gold rings and small gems sparkled in her right ear. If Cerissa's tricorne hat made her look like a British naval officer, the masska was a pirate.
The cat-woman's face split in a toothy grin. "Cerissa Montaigne, as I live and breathe! And so do you, which is always a bit of a surprise!"
"Hello, Bell," said Cerissa. "Glad you're alive, too."
"And who's this? Nice arms." Bell looked me up and down with brazen interest.
"We're not together, if that's what you're asking," said Cerissa. "Don't tell me you still haven't added a human to your collection."
"Collection?" I said. Bell waved a hand— she had hands, not paws, which was probably useful for a jeweler.
"Don't worry about it, cutie. What can I help you with?"
"I need something made," said Cerissa. "An amulet."
"Just an amulet?" Bell looked around at the jewelry-laden walls. "I've got plenty of options, no need to go custom if you—"
"No, it needs to be a custom piece," said Cerissa. "In fact, it's a copy."
"Ha!" Bell pointed at Cerissa. "You're running a switcheroo, aren't you? I should have known. Okay, let's see the original."
"Well..." Cerissa trailed off.
"You don't have it? Tell me you've got a nice detailed painting. An etching. Something."
"I think you can do it from memory," said Cerissa. "You've seen it. It's our folks' old roguelock."
"Why do you want— never mind, I don't want to know the answer." Bell shook her head, making her earrings glint in the dimness of her shop. "But you know what? You're right. I can do it from memory. It's gonna cost you, though."
"You bet," said Cerissa.
"Up front," said the masska.
"Bell, you know—" Cerissa began, but Bell cut her off.
"Don't even try it."
Cerissa heaved a melodramatic sigh. "C'mon, Alex." She slapped me on the shoulder. "Let's go sell some mushrooms."
"There you go, sir," I said to the snaggle-toothed old man as he grabbed a small burlap sack of mushrooms from my arms. "Enjoy them in good health."
"Drown in the river," he wheezed. "Couple of criminals." I watched him stumble away with the sack on one shoulder.
"How'd he know?" asked Cerissa from over my shoulder.
"Oh, he doesn't like your prices," I said. I handed her the man's small pile of copper coins. "Tell me we're somewhere close to enough."
"Not a chance," said Cerissa. "Bell does fantastic work, but she knows what she's worth and she ain't afraid to charge it. Look, this fake needs to fool Mordred. It's gotta be good."
"That reminds me," I said. "We know they're gonna have a zeel at the door using detect magic to check everything people bring in. I assume that as a great and mighty wizard, Mordred knows that spell, too."
Cerissa nodded. "Sure he does."
"So what's to stop him from using it on our fake? I mean, if we're right, the roguelock is going to be out of his sight for a little while. I have to assume he'll do everything he can to make sure the one he gets back is the same one he handed over."
"Expect so."
"So? He'll cast detect magic, see our fake is fake, and the jig will be up."
"You got a lot to learn about thievin'," said Cerissa. "No good thief gets by without a few spells up her sleeve, myself included. So there's a reason we pay Bell's prices. She'll put some little charm on it, something harmless. That way it'll light up when Mordred gives it the eye."
"Back up," I said. "You know magic?"
"Just a couple spells," Cerissa said. "Detect magic and knock. Mom taught me, before she died. Said it was the basics any good thief would need."
"What does knock do?" I asked.
"Nothin' I can't do with a good set of lockpicks." Cerissa smirked. "It's just a backup. And nothin' I can use to enchant the fake amulet myself, so we pay."
"So that raises another question," I said. "If the fake roguelock we bring in with us is enchanted, what's to stop them from taking that, too? Then there's two identical amulets in the vault and the whole thing is blown. How do we sneak ours past?"
Cerissa stared at me for a moment, then dropped heavily onto a big sack of mushrooms.
"Well..." she said softly. I sat next to her, and her hair fell from behind her ear as she turned to look at me. "Any ideas?"
"Actually," I said, "yeah. We'll need a lead-lined box."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Opening
CERISSA WAS WEARING the green dress. Her hair, now dyed a mousy brown, was swept up along the lines of her long ears and fell out in waves to her shoulders, which were exposed by the low cut of the dress and showed a sprinkling of freckles on pale skin. As she swept up the long promenade towards the wide-open double doors of the Aventura Museum of Foreign Lands, and I followed faithfully behind her, I felt strangely at home.
All around us, the nobility of Gate's underworld, and probably some real nobility as well, mingled and consorted on the broad crushed-stone walkway. They represented all the races I'd seen so far, and were dressed in all manner of fantastic outfits, but Cerissa's cover story was a good one: it seemed that every wealthy merchant or burglar had an armored thug at his back. With my leather armor and weaponry, I fit right in. I was also about to execute a pretty daring robbery, so I felt like I deserved to be here.
The last few days had been surprisingly dull. We'd sold all of Cerissa's mushrooms and paid Bell. Her duplicate of the roguelock was nestled safely in the slender lead-lined case we'd bought, which was itself tucked inside my leather coat. I'd only seen the real roguelock for a few seconds, but I had to agree that Bell's fake looked pretty convincing.
With that accomplished, there was nothing left to do but wait. This gave me time to heal up to 7 HP, at what I now felt was the agonizingly slow rate of one hit point per day. Not max, but it sure beat the single hit point I'd entered Borealis with. We'd spent the time wandering around the city, helping me get to know the lay of the land. We'd seen no sign of Mordred.
There was a short line at the door, where guards with pristine blue-and-white tabards over gleaming steel chain armor were checking out everyone who tried to enter. Just beyond the guards, I could see a tall, bald woman with skin the color of a summer sky. She gave each guest a quick look up and down, and occasionally held out her hand to receive a necklace, bangle, or concealed dagger from a sheepish entrant.
Soon we were at the front of the line. Cerissa approached a young-looking guard with brown hair, sharp elven ears, and a long scar across the bridge of his nose.
"Cerissa Montaigne and Alex Swift," she announced as I unbuckled the weapons from my belt. Her voice was like the one she'd used on the guards in the museum a few days ago, but with a new regal undertone. The guard scanned a parchment in his hand, then looked up sheepishly.
"Apologies, ma'am, but you aren't on the list."
"Perhaps you didn't hear me," said Cerissa loudly. "Cerissa Montaigne and Alex Swift." She gestured meaningfully to herself, then to me.
"Ma'am, the names aren't here," the young guard said. Cerissa eased forward until she was uncomfortably close to him.
"You're one of Ferris's boys, aren't you?" she whispered. "What's your name?" I had no idea who Ferris was, so I kept my mouth shut and tried to look tough.
The guard nodded, his eyes darting around nervously. "Talus."
"Talus, you should recognize our names. Both of them. Unless Ferris has been slacking in his history lessons."
"No, ma'am, he ain't," stammered Talus. His
voice had changed, slipping from the affected pomposity of a city guard to something that sounded much lower class. "I know the names. And I can see your faces plain as day, if I may say so, ma'am. I met Will Swift when I wasn't but a lad, and damned if your man there ain't his spittin' image. I mean to say that I believe you, ma'am. It's only, you ain't on the list."
"Not on the list? Surely you've heard of an alias?" Cerissa leaned in and ran her finger down the list of names in the guard's hand. She stopped suddenly and said, "There, 'Lady Chechelle Cressenden and bodyguard.' That's us. Go on, hand us over to your wizard and we'll be on our way with no more time wasted."
Talus's mouth open and closed a few times as he looked back and forth between his list and Cerissa. Finally he made a vague sort of gesture that Cerissa interpreted as a stamp of approval.
"Come along, Swifty," she said, and I followed. As we went, I handed Talus my sword and dagger. He stood there looking at them dumbly as we swept by.
Just beyond Talus, two guards waited to pat us down. They were quick and gentle, and though my heart skipped a beat as my guard passed his hands over the front of my leather armor, he didn't seem to notice.
The other guard finished with Cerissa and nodded. "Go on to Neera. Enjoy the party."
Neera, the bald blue woman, waited for us, arms crossed, her mouth set in a frown. She wore a heavy white robe unadorned with any decoration or jewelry, but as we got close I could see long scars that formed whorls and swirls down her arms and neck.
Race: zeel
I knew that, I thought.
I always believed in you, responded Flik.
Neera's head bobbed as she looked us over. She made no noise, not even a rustle from her robe. She gestured for Cerissa to go along, and I was moving to follow when Neera put her hand out.
I stopped.
"What is in your coat?" she asked. Her voice was rich and surprisingly deep, like stepping in a puddle only to find it's a pothole. Her eyes were fixed on the exact spot where the lead-lined case sat against my chest.
"Nothing," I said. My heart had leapt into action and was hammering away. Neera extended a long, blue hand and looked at me expectantly.
