The Jewel Thief
By Vanessa Cardui
Copyright 2014 Vanessa Cardui
Kindle Edition
The cover image is based on a photo by Kieran Brown, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license
Half an hour out of Tekeel, things started to go wrong. There were a dozen first-water bloodstones in Seren’s pack, and the Carephalan authorities were still chasing their scaly tails behind her, while she’d slipped out silently from under their noses. She was giddy with that, and with three days of practically no sleep, and a month of painstaking setup before that, knowing any wrong step could land her in a Carephalan stewpot. But now she was out in the open skies, the steady beat of the flitter’s wings carrying her farther out of their reach very minute. Nothing but wilderness beneath her, forest and brush and rolling hills, cut through occasionally with long stripes of bare rock. No one to see where she’d come from or where she was going.
The beat of the flitter’s wings faltered. There was a sound of tearing metal, and the whole cabin lurched sickeningly to the right. The safety belts bit into Seren’s chest as she wrenched the control yoke all the way to the left, trying to compensate. With her other hand she hugged the pack with the bloodstones to herself. She must’ve grabbed it by instinct when things in the cabin started sliding around. She wasn’t going to lose them, not after everything . . .
The flitter was dropping like a rock, leaving Seren’s stomach behind, several hundred feet above. Damned useless piece of junk. Why’d she try to get it into the air without checking—well, she knew why. And the odds had been that it would be fine. The dice hadn’t come up that way, that was all. She extended the wings, tried to pull it into a glide, to aim for the relatively clear patch of ground she could see. Her last thought before she blacked out was: All right, there’s been a bit of a setback, but I can fix—
#
"So," said someone. "I see you've decided to live."
Seren wasn’t in the flitter cabin; she was indoors, on a bed. It was soft, and there was a pillow, and she was—
"Could someone please explain why I'm tied to this bed?" she asked.
There was a soft chuckle. "Couple of reasons." Seren turned her head and blinked the last of her sleep away. She saw a tall man with a whipcord build; whatever spark of humor had prompted the chuckle and the sardonic observation about deciding to live was quickly smothered in his dark, hooded eyes. "You came down in a patch of carrion-berry. If you'd eaten any those, you'd be crazy violent until your heart burst."
"And?"
"Hm?
"You said a couple of reasons. What's the other one?"
"Well, let it sit with that one.” The man looked away from her, a movement as telling as a stare would have been. If he was the sort of man who thought an unconscious woman tied to his bed made a decorative accent . . . she could work with that. She’d have to. “You don't seem to be berry-crazed,” he went on, “so let's get you untied."
His hands working the knots were strong and sure, and he barely touched her skin when he untied them. Good hands for a safecracker, Seren thought irrelevantly. The rope was soft, and while the knots had been secure, they hadn't been too tight. She rubbed her wrists, and feeling came back quickly.
"I'm Seren, by the way," she said.
"Rain," replied the man, untying her legs. "You're lucky you came down here; there isn't anyone else within a hundred miles of here in any direction, and more than that in most."
Seren shook her head. "Wasn't lucky to come down at all."
"No, that wasn't a matter of luck. That was clogged valve heads. You shouldn't've been flying in that thing without an overhaul."
"Was in a bit of a hurry," she said.
"Take it that wasn't a matter of luck, either," said Rain. He opened one of the cabinets, took out a pack, and put in on the table. Her pack. With her bloodstones.
"Those are mine," she said, reaching for it.
"I would be genuinely surprised if that was true," said Rain, but he didn't stop her from taking the bag and holding it on her lap. It would be impolite, to say the least, to take out the stones and examine them, but she could feel them through the pack, twelve, with the right shape and a reassuring heft.
"They're mine now, anyway," said Seren.
"By that logic, they could've been mine," said Rain.
"Yeah, well, they're not.” Which was a piece of bravado that Seren hoped Rain would buy, because she sure as hell wasn’t buying it. What difference did it make if the bloodstones were in her lap or in the cabinet? She was in his house on his bed, and even if she was untied—she eyed the hard muscles of his arms and back. The bloodstones were just as much in his possession either way, whenever he chose to exercise it. “Look; is there any chance that you can get me out to Norsteer? I'll pay."
“Your flit isn't in any shape to go anywhere,” said Rain with a shrug. “Mine might get airborne, but it's been awhile since I've checked all the valves and indicators. It'd be a few days before it'd be in any shape to go up. And that's if this is a good idea, which I don't think it is. If you go back to Tekeel, the Carephalans’ll let you loose in exchange for those stones, so long as it's within the five days."
"Yeah," said Seren. "But it's in not the nature of my profession to give gems back."
"And crashing flitters is in the nature of your profession."
The problem was that he was right about being the only person within a thousand miles. And he had a working flitter. Which he hadn't crashed. "Point is, that's an incidental mistake. Returning the gems would be a fundamental misunderstanding of what a jewel thief does."
Rain sighed. "Well," he said. "I'll think about it. Prefer to stay on the good side of the Carephalans. But money comes in handy from time to time." He hesitated. "I'll be sleeping out in the barn; there's bread in the pantry, meat in the smokehouse, water in the well. Not much of anything else."
"That'll be fine," said Seren. "Thank you for what you've given me already."
"Mm," said Rain. "Seemed neighborly."
"Five days?" she asked. Her hands tightened around her pack as she said it—she wasn't going to give back the gems. No possible chance of that happening. But the hermit she'd crashed near seemed to think that it was a good idea, so she’d pretend to consider it. "How long have I been out?"
"Bit more than a day," said Rain. "Your flitter came down maybe two miles from my cabin, and it took a little while to get out there and back."
Seren nodded. "Right. I'd have to get back to Tekeel pretty soon, then—three days, and it's at least a half-day's flight."
"Take most of the day, in my old crate. I could probably get it up by tomorrow." Rain shrugged. "Worth thinking about, anyway."
Seren thought about it. Then she lay back down in bed and thought about other things. the forests between Tekeel and Norsteer were deadly. The fact that she'd managed to put down next to someone with a working flitter was nothing short of miraculous. Nobody could live in these forests, but somehow, this Rain had. Built a house too—the walls looked like they were made from hand-planed logs, every stick of furniture would've had to either have been made onsite, or flitted in over hours of rough terrain. Whoever Rain was, he was good at what he did.
But Seren was good at what she did, too. And the nature of her profession was—you got a lucky break, you pushed it as far as it would go. And no way was she going back to Tekeel. No way.
There was meat in the smokehouse, and bread in the pantry, and water in the well. Seren took a weeks’ supply of each of those, the rifle hanging up on the wall, and ghosted out a window. As she'd suspected, there was a lock on the flitter's hatch, and a seal-guard on the impeller. Neither of them presented a problem.
The fli
tter started, clean and quiet. In addition to everything else that she owed Rain, she owed him for flitter maintenance. On the other hand, jewel thieves weren't known for paying their debts.
There were two fuel tanks, and they both showed full. Time to fire the main chamber, and see how much a dozen first-water bloodstones would bring in the markets of Norsteer. Bit of a setback, but she’d turned it around, made it work.
She had to hurry, though. Rain wouldn’t sleep through the sound of the chamber firing. As soon as the main engine showed clear, she started up the wings, smooth and strong, and took back to the sky. Her luck was holding just fine.
Maybe not so lucky for Rain, but that wasn't her problem.
It was an older model, but it flew like a dream. Only. Norsteer was due north, but the compass wasn't turning. He'd said that some of those gauges and indicators weren't working right. It wasn't a problem, really, because there was the sun, and the stars; they'd get her there.
Only there was something niggling at her once she figured out that she couldn't trust the compass. She checked everything she could, checked again. Fuel tanks were full, engine indicators all showed green, wings were still moving well.
Fuel tanks were full. They shouldn't've been full. She'd been flying for three hours; they should've shown that. If those indicators weren't working, that meant that she didn't know how much fuel she'd started with. Could be they'd started full, and she'd be able to ride into Norsteer with a servicable flitter and a bag of bloodstones for sale. Could be it wasn't going to get her all the way there, and she would die out in this godforsaken forest.
Bit of a setback, for damn sure. No choice but to hope that her luck’d last a little longer, because there was no way Rain was going to do anything for her now, not after she'd stolen his flitter.
The indicator on the primary tank dropped all the way from full to empty between one wingstroke and the next. No way Rain was going to do anything for her, but it was try to get back to him or die once the provisions ran out. She did a wingover, headed back.
The second tank went empty about an hour before dawn. The landing was a rocky one; not as bad as when she'd crashed her own flitter, but it was going to take skills and tools she didn't have to get that bird back up into the air. Only place she could hope for help was at Rain's, and that was eight miles away, if she could find it.
Seren packed her food and water into a backpack, and set off. There was going to be hell to pay, and it looked like she was going to have to pay it. There was nowhere left to run.
It was about eight miles, but it took all day to walk it. The forest was cut through with streams and steep-sided ravines, and the trees crowded together so tight it was next to impossible to squeeze through. There were growls from the underbrush, and screeches in the air—and what she was walking towards was likely worse. But Rain was human, and she could work him, maybe. The things that lived in the forest didn’t have any points where her skills could be brought to bear.
It was nearly sunset when she found Rain's cabin. It was up on a hill, and hard to spot; she must have circled it three times before she found the trail that led up to his door.
He had some tools out, and was fixing the door. Could be the takeoff had sent some debris up.
Well. Do or die. "Rain," she called.
"Keep walking," he replied, not looking at her.
She wasn't going to die. Rain could help her and he was going to help her, willing or not. She unslung the rifle from her shoulder.
"Keep walking," he repeated. "Or shoot. I'd rather die than another damn thing for you."
She aimed, and then . . . what would be the point? She could kill him, easy, take his cabin. And then what? She wasn't a hunter, she didn't know how to do anything that she'd need to do. "Please," she said. "Please, I need—"
"Made that mistake once," he said. He turned around; there were dried tears on his cheeks, and a deep rage in his eyes. He’d set down his hammer, and she was still holding the rifle—and she took a step back. Didn’t mean to, just did. "You've killed us both, and now you want more? There isn't any more. Without the flitter, I'm going to run out of ammunition. And then a garreller is going to get through a window, or a blacktooth, or I'll simply run out of food."
"Flitter's not wrecked," said Seren. "I ran out of fuel, but I put it down in one piece."
"You're lying," said Rain. "If you weren't, you'd be pointing my gun at me and demanding petrol."
"It's not wrecked!" she said. "But the left wing-strut is out, and there were some branches that got in the extruder when it went down. I think it can be fixed, but there's no way I could do it."
She dropped the rifle to the side. As a threat or a weapon, it was useless to her, but he’d helped a helpless woman once. "I brought back the food. Much as I could. Please, Rain."
He hesitated, then shook his head. "No," he said. "You need me now, so you're begging now. How the hell could I trust you again, once you saw a way to get what you want? Say I fix the flitter. How could I go to sleep without knowing it'd be gone when I woke up? Keep walking."
"I'm sorry. I really am." He liked begging? Seren could beg. She dropped to her knees. And maybe she had some stupid pride left, because her face burned with shame when she did it. She felt tears starting in her eyes as all the previous days’ events came rushing back, every damn fool thing she’d done to get to this point, kneeling at the feet of some crazy hermit in the middle of a howling wilderness.
Hell, let the tears fall. Maybe he’d like those too. "I know you can't trust me,” said Seren with a sob in her throat. “But there's nowhere for me to walk to. Please, Rain, I'll do anything you say."
Rain didn’t answer, and Seren bit her lip, looked away. One last card to play, and never mind the squirming feeling at the pit of her stomach; when you had no luck, you pushed that as far as it would go, too.
"There were a couple of reasons you'd tied me up when I was out," she said. "What was the other one?" She was on her knees; she dropped further down, face to the dirt, arms outstretched in front of her. "I really will. Anything you say. Anything you tell me to do, I'll do it."
There was a long groan from Rain. "You're a pretty girl, Seren," he said. "And it'd be fun to play tie-up games with you. Not denying it. But there isn't space here for games. And I still can't trust you."
"Don't trust, then," said Seren. "No games. You can keep me however you want, however you need me to be kept to feel secure. And I'll do anything you say."
"Strip," said Rain. Seren got out of her clothes as quickly as she could. Rain had clearly come to some sort of decision, but it she didn’t know what he'd decided. And there weren't going to be any chances after this one.
Seren knelt there, naked, and Rain took her clothes and looked through them. He found her pistol, and her knife, and her secondary knife, and the blade she kept in the heel of her boot. Then turned her jacket inside out, and found the packet of tools she kept in the lining, found the backups from her shirt.
"I may be a fool, but I'm not a damn fool." He picked up her pistol, chambered a round. "You'll do anything I say?" he said.
"Anything," said Seren.
He aimed the pistol at her, arm steady. Seren regretted . . . regretted lots of things, shut her eyes. But something inside her broke; she opened them again, looked up at him, calm now.
"If you want," she said. "I'll take it."
He stood there for a long time. His cheek trembled, then his arm did, and he pulled his hand back, aimed the gun upwards. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," he said. "And if I tell you to walk?"
"I'll walk," said Seren. "I've made a lot of bad choices, and now I've got nothing left. You make the choices, now, whatever they are."
His mouth worked, but he didn't say anything. "Hell," he said, finally. "Maybe I am a damn fool. Into the barn."
When she'd first knelt down, she'd have been overjoyed at that. Now she was calm. She'd have been calm if he'd shot her, if he'd told her to kill herself. And she'd have done
it, too.
The barn was mostly empty; there were pens for livestock, and hay, but no animals. "Blacktooth took the goats," he said. Then he caught himself, shrugged. "Stand there," he said, pointing to a corner. "Face the wall."
She stood there, eyes open, hands by her sides, legs together, and waited. Calm. Happy? Maybe it was just relief, but she was happy.
Seren heard something clank and rattle, and Rain put a loop of metal around her neck. Steel, not too heavy, but heavy enough. "I'd lock it in, but what the hell would be the point?" he said. "You're good with locks."
He stuffed a layer of burlap between the steel and her neck. Then there was the whoosh of a spark welder starting up.
Seren had given over; she'd die if he chose. But she had to swallow down a rush of fear when she heard that. Pain still hurt.
And there was pain, as the metal heated, and she could smell the burlap singeing. Seren meant to be brave, but she whimpered as it went from uncomfortable to painful. If it went on much longer, there'd be blisters, there'd be burns, she'd—
There was a sudden shock as a bucket of water was dumped over her head. "There," said Rain. "That'll keep." He pulled the sacking out, letting the metal rest on her skin. It was still warm, but no more than warm, and just loose enough that he could turn it around.
She touched it, felt what he'd done. It was an old regulator collar, welded shut, with a length of chain welded to the joint. From a professional point of view, it was a problem. There was enough slack that it might be possible to get metal shears in to cut it. But there was no way that she'd be able to get the leverage needed to cut it herself.
It wasn't coming off until someone else took it off.
That was a relief too, in a way. She was bone-tired of professional problems. She’d meant it, finally, when she’d told Rain she’d do whatever he said; wouldn’t run or try to get away. But knowing that she couldn’t even if she wanted to made everything easier.
Rain grabbed hold of the chain, pulled her into one of the stalls. The crackle-whoosh of the spark welder again, and the chain was attached to the bar. There was enough slack that she could lie down, or stand, but there weren't any tools nearby. She wasn't going to leave until Rain let her go.
The Jewel Thief Page 1
