by Leo deSouza
The fabulous thief of Arkara.
Before Montaron got back to the Red Star City and was expelled by the Thick Beards one more time, and even before he got caught stealing and got jailed, this dwarf was known as an entertainer, someone who could dance, tell jokes, act and make tricks, most of it involving payment back. But his fame only really grew big when folks began to accuse him of stealing. Back in these days, above a stand in the middle of a fair, in a town of men, called Arkara, on the fields, some leagues far from the Red Star City, Montaron was presenting a staging, something to entertain the passing ones. By his side was a thin old man, Bagard, so thin that he looked sick, but he was actually not, and his height was of someone who found difficult to pass under most door arches. Both were around a large straw basket in the middle of the stand.
“Come ye all now! Come and see! Montaron, the juggler!” Said the old man.
There were people already watching the scene and more stopped to see as Bagard announced: “Come you all and witness the skills of the little magician! Today we will present a new trick. What is inside this basket? Someone could answer me.”
“Another dwarf! But twice smaller, we already saw this trick before. This one will hide and you will make us all think he got smaller!” Said a man in the audience.
Bagard smiled. “Oh no you don’t! This is not a trick about making someone smaller! One could risk reputation in this, but what about risking your life?” He asked.
A noise was heard among the crowd.
“This is for sure a different trick, let me show you.” Bagard continued. “First of all, our hero will enter the basket.”
Montaron smiled and bowed himself towards the crowd, he uncovered the basket and got into it, covering it again.
Bagard drew a pointy saber. “Now, my dear listeners and watchers… Witness the death being challenged!” He spoke and then with a quick blow, he thrust the sword into the basket, piercing it.
Again a noise was heard among the crowd, everyone suddenly became serious. One more time the thin man thrust into the basket, now at a different point, and it was not the last time, he did it repeatedly, so many times that it left no chance for one inside the basket to stay unwounded, as the audience thought... When he finally finished, the crowd was wide eyed watching the scene, and silence was among them all.
“Now, as you see, my noble ones, there are only two possibilities here. Either our hero is dead, or he is really a magician!” The thin man spoke.
“You killed him!” Someone shouted.
“Did I? Hum… Let me see…” Bagard continued. “Do you see any blood on this saber?” He reached the sword towards the folks.
They looked at it getting close, but there was really not even a drop of red blood on it.
“Now one could say this dwarf does not bleed! But the question is… Do you want to look inside the basket?” Bagard asked.
The folks agitated, many ones nodded and asked to check the basket, they reached coins towards the presenter.
He took the coins and put them inside a small bucket. “It is fair, my gentlemen, to show you the content of this basket, for you paid well, and a well paid asking deserves a good answer.” He spoke, then approached the basket. “Let whoever is inside there stay quiet if dead, but if alive, show yourself!”
Then the cover of the basket was thrown in the air, Montaron, the dwarf, jumped from inside it to stand and opened his arms, smiling while the crowd applauded and hailed him.
“All hail Montaron! The magician dwarf! Look at him! Not even a scratch!” Bagard said as he raised the dwarf on his shoulders and stirred the crowd.
“What about one more trick?” Someone in the crowd asked.
“Oh I… I’m afraid that this is all for now. Why don’t you come tomorrow? There will be for sure more magic for you to see!” Bagard replied, putting the dwarf back on the ground.
Some stood there while Montaron and his mate dismantled the stage, but after a while everyone left, and now there was no one still standing there to watch them. On a small handcart, the two performers gathered their stuff, and left to the back of the place where they were presenting, Bagard noticed Montaron had a wound in his arm. “Oh no! I cut ye! Let me see…”
But Montaron shook his head. “No problem.” He said.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I would like to have something better for ye… For us, but people like risk and danger, this is the way to get coins. Still we can’t show all our tricks at once, we must keep some for tomorrow.” Bagard said.
A man came to them, the owner of the stage they used to present. “So you two, how much did ye manage to do today?” He asked.
“Here, this is the payment for the rent.” Bagard said as he reached out two coins to the owner of the place.
“Just this? It seems no one is willing to watch you anymore, this way I will need to finish our agreement.” The owner replied.
“Well sir… Things are not always the way we want. As you can see, this is all that is left for us.” Bagard replied as he showed to the owner his bucket with only a few coins inside it.
The man made an aloof gesture, indicating for them to leave. “Ye better watch yourselves, people have easy smiles but deep in their minds all they want is to take advantage of everything.”
“Oh thanks for the advice!” Bagard said. “Did ye come to know about someone willing to find trouble with us?”
“Trouble always comes.” The man spoke.
“Well, if we can not avoid it, then it is all about dealing with it.” Bagard replied.
Montaron and his mate left under the vexed mien of their patron. When they got distant enough, Bagard took from one of his pockets many coins, Montaron looked at them, his eyes were shining.
“You know, my friend Montaron, a thief who steals from another thief deserves a hundred years of forgiveness!” Bagard spoke.
“A hundred years of forgiveness …” Montaron replied with a smart smile on his mouth.
“Half to half.” Bagard said as he reached coins to Montaron.
This one took and stared at them, fascinated.
“Actually… Two more coins for you, my friend, as you risked yourself inside the basket, and paid with blood.” Bagard added, giving more coins to the dwarf.
Now Montaron looked at him. “Ye are a good friend.” He said.
“Yes, yes I know, Montaron, I’m someone you would invite to dinner in your house, if you had one…” Bagard spoke as he slapped Montaron’s shoulder. “One day, my friend, you will turn famous, and everyone will tell stories about you and your great accomplishments.”
They kept walking, pulling the handcart, their destination was a place they used to frequent, a cheap open restaurant where they could eat without paying much, and have enough to get satisfied; the place was not much more than some tents on the plaza where many traders sold their food, some serving it on makeshift tables. It was the end of the day, and the sun was about to hide behind the horizon, now the traders were leaving the streets, and people prepared to go back to their houses. At the restaurant, there were still some traders around, one of them selling bread, Montaron and his mate approached.
“Noble ones!” The trader exclaimed. “I came from far to bring you the best bread one can find around.” He gestured showing many breads on a table. “Why don’t ye chose something and sit to degust?”
Montaron came to the table of bread, he had one hand raised towards the food as if preparing to take some, his fingers strumming in the air.
“A brass coin for each bread.” The trader said.
“I think two breads are enough then.” Bagard replied.
“Oh just two?” Asked the trader. “I believe that someone like you would like to have a more complete meal. Why don’t you take more?”
“More like three? This maybe would be too much for us.” Bagard replied.
“Three? No, five is enough, and you only have to pay for four.” The trader replied.
“What do ye think abo
ut the bread, Montaron?” Bagard asked.
The dwarf made a fretful expression and shook his head.
“You know my noble baker, my friend here has a good nose, he knows when something is good just by smelling it. I think we are not going to take any.” Bagard spoke.
“Wait! You haven’t even tasted it!” The trader replied.
“Not necessary, my good sir.” Bagard said as he turned to leave.
“Right! A middling deal is better than none. How many breads do ye want?” The trader asked.
Now Bagard turned back, he got thoughtful as he stroked his chin. “I think four breads are enough… But let me tell you, that with this quality, I’m only going to pay you two brass.”
“Two bra…! Oh you…” The trader grumbled.
“It is the end of the day, the bread is dry and hard, nothing like the ones you first sold in the morning.” Bagard argued.
“Fine, fine…” The trader spoke, visibly vexed.
Bagard reached the two coins for him. “Montaron, could you please take us the four breads?” He spoke.
The dwarf took aside the breads on the top, reaching the ones under them.
“Now, I believe you made a good deal. The last of the day, I guess.” Bagard spoke to the trader.
The pair left, other traders around were gathering their stuff to leave.
“Now my excellent dwarf… Eating dry bread is something nasty even for a pair of wanderers like us… We must look for some butter.”
They walked through the tents, looking around to find someone selling what they were now looking for, and it did not take much for them to find a trader with many bottles of butter, but this one was already packing the bottles inside wooden boxes and preparing to leave.
“Excuse me, noble one. May I have a look at this butter?” Bagard asked the trader.
“Of couse! How much do ye want?” The trader asked.
“Hum…” Bagard hummed. “Five bottles!”
“What? Five bottles? Then you can have it, my lord!” The trader exclaimed, visibly excited.
“Let us try it.” The thin man spoke.
“Sure.” The trader replied, he reached one of the bottles and opened it, the smell of butter spread in the air and Montaron’s stomach growled. Now both the dwarf and his mate reached the breads for the trader, and this one buttered it, generously. Montaron put his two breads one against the other, there was so much butter between them that it leaked, his mate did the same, and now both were eating under the expectant gaze of the trader man. They chewed and looked around as if feeling the taste in their mouths, then finally Bagard spoke: “What do ye think, Montaron?”
One more time the dwarf seemed displeased, he shook his head, like someone who is not satisfied.
“No, this is not good butter.” Bagard said. “I don’t think we are going to make any deal.”
Now it was the trader who seemed fretful. “You… Oh you… Leave! Leave now!” He spoke.
The pair left, butter leaked from Montaron’s mouth, they walked as he ate and smiled. Now they were already fed, and nothing was left to this day, except finding somewhere to rest, so they walked away, leaving the town towards a small hill, night had come, everything was dark and quiet, in the many houses one could see light coming from their windows, people were in their beds, the sound of owls and crickets were heard, but the two friends had nowhere to sleep. As they passed through the gate of the town, they saw a little kid beggar, his clothes were all torn, and he was dirty and skinny, the kid had his hands open in the air, as if begging. Montaron approached and took from a pocket a coin.
“Thank you sir!” The kid said as he quickly took the coin from his hand.
Then Montaron’s weasel came out of one of his pockets, scaring the kid.
“What is this?” The little one asked as he stepped back. “Is it a rat?”
“Not a rat, it is a weasel.” Montaron replied.
“What is his name?” The kid asked reaching to stroke the animal who was now on the dwarf’s arm.
“Ribs.” Montaron replied.
“Ribs?” The kid asked. “Why ribs?
“Because he is skinny.” Montaron said.
“Oh I see now, he is skinny because he does not eat much, just like me!” The kid said showing his own torso where one could see his ribs under his skin.
Montaron smiled to him. “Buy food with the money I gave ye.” He spoke.
“You bet sir!” The kid replied.
At this moment a guard shouted as he approached. “Hey! What is this? A reunion of beggars?”
The kid was frightened and left running, the guard came and purposely bumped into Montaron, making him fall on the ground.
“Why don’t you look where you step, dwarf?” He asked with a harsh voice. “What were you planning here? Some robbing? You better find your way out, we don’t like vagabonds wandering around!”
Montaron raised himself from the ground, dirty from the mud, he just lowered his head and went away, they left the town and climbed the hillside.
“You are a generous fellow, my friend, even if no one gives generosity back to you.” Bagard said as they walked.
On the hill they set camp and prepared to rest, a bonfire was lit, and Bagard threw on its fire some powder. “It is to ward off mosquitoes.” He spoke.
Montaron showed him a bag, inside it they saw some coins.
“My favorite thief! You stole from the guard when he bumped you!” The thin man spoke.
Montaron smiled. “A hundred years of forgiveness.” He said
Bagard laughed as he nodded. “Ha! That is it! You are learning fast, Montaron, though in this case you did not steal from a thief but from a tomfool, I wonder why fate puts some good heads like you in such a life… Smart as you are, you could be great!” He said, then lit a pipe and began to smoke.
The night advanced while both of them where laying on their backs on the grass, looking to the stars, there they fell asleep, neither of them stood as watch, both were too tired.
In the next morning, Montaron woke up alone, his friend was not there anymore as well as the handcart. The dwarf stretched himself and yawned, his stomach growled, hunger beat him, he looked around trying to find his mate, but after all just shrugged and stepped down the hill.
“I could hear your belly asking for food from leagues away.” A voice sounded nearby, making Montaron stop.
The dwarf looked back but saw no one, when he turned and stepped ahead again he almost bumped into someone. There at his front was a tall man, using a robe and a hood that hid half his face, he had a long red beard and leant on a staff with his two hands. Montaron looked at him with curious eyes.
“So you are Montaron, the magician.” The man said.
“At your service.” The dwarf answered. “What is your name?”
“I have many names, my friend, depending on the situation and on the place.”
But Montaron did not ask which name he wore now.
“Well, Montaron, I’ve seen you performing some times, in the fair. You really have a skill in showing people good tricks, while your friend has all the ability in convincing them to pay you. Where is he? By the way.”
Montaron shrugged as he looked around. “In the fair, I think.”
“Hum… Preparing stuff for one more day of presentation.”
Montaron nodded.
“My dear dwarf…” The man continued. “Let me get to the point here, I’m here to propose you something. Not that I’m aloof to your abilities on the stage, but we know, your hands can do much more than simple magic tricks. I believe your real skills are beyond presentations in the fair, if you know what I mean.”
“I know not.”
“Well then, let me be more direct. I’m talking about taking up what is not of yours.”
Montaron shook his head, smiling. “I’m no thief.” He replied.
“Oh I never said you were such a thing! But taking someone’s belongings is not always to be considered steali
ng, right? A thief who steals from another thief, deserves a hundred years of forgiveness.”
Montaron looked at the man, confused and curious.
“What do you think the guard would have to say about this?” The man asked.
Now Montaron was wide eyed, he was about to say something when he was interrupted.
“Don’t you worry my little friend! I’m not here to arrest, nor to denounce you, as I said, I came to propose something.” The man spoke.
“Ye don’t seem someone from the town Guard.” The dwarf replied
“I’m not, you can bet on this. But maybe I’m someone even more important for you right now. Tell me Montaron, would you accept a service in which you would receive back for your work? A good reward, enough to pay ye, worth the risk.”
Montaron rubbed his head as he thought. “Tell me about this.”
“Excellent! I’m going to be direct now. There is mansion nearby, its owner is known as Baron Sahul, inside this mansion, a coffin, and inside this coffin, something of my interest.”
“Ye want me to go there and take this thing.”
“Yes… It would be quite simple if you agree with me, I would provide you all the means.”
“Means?”
Now the man took from under his robe a pair of gloves, thin gloves, delicate and with a singular appearance, Montaron took them and examined them for a moment.
“This is the means. All you need to do now is to put them on and finish the job.” The man said.
Montaron put the gloves on his hands, and somehow he felt them very light and comfortable to use. “What about the payment?” He asked.
“Oh! You already have it right on your hands!”
The dwarf looked at the gloves. “This?” He asked.
“Yes… And if you don’t realize now the value of this pair of gloves, you will find out later, Montaron, if you dare to risk. They say one who does not risk lives longer, but tastes nothing. Now, about the mansion…” The man was saying when Montaron interrupted him.
