The Thief of Dunmire
and the Tear of Astra
by H. K. MacTavish
Copyright 2016
Table of Contents
Casual Entrance
Making Good Neighbors
Creating a Path
Making Friends
Can’t Everything Go Nicely
Momentary Delays
Carving Out a Niche
Moving Mountains
Crossing Paths
Moments Etched in Glass
Checking for Traps
Morning Routine
Conspirators Unite
Mindful Pursuits
Mucking About
Castle Mischief
Molasses and Heels
Crowns and Jewels
Mysterious Shadows
Cutting to the End
Manner of Escape
Coincidental Meeting
Manipulating Fate
My Unexpected Present
Casual Entrance
My father only gave me one thing. Everything else I’ve had to work for. Not like Prince Blaise Heldfalle. His father, Stavros, was a king, his mother, Iona, a queen. He had his first castle just given to him at three. You know what I was granted at three? A dirty diaper and cold porridge.
I’m not bitter though. I think I’ve come out ahead in life. I have freedom. Absolute freedom. For example, I can choose to sleep in a stable or choose to sleep in a rat infested tavern. I can choose the day old bread or the two day old bread. Absolute freedom.
Not like Prince Blaise, the hero and brave knight, doer of good deeds and vanquisher of orcs, or…something. The poor prince, he’s restricted to his silk sheets and his manors and horses that he can ride for fun or go out on a hunt with. He has to wear his silk shirts and his tailored suits and his fitted suits of armor. And could Blaise refuse to go to a ball and dance with princesses and duchesses? No! He has to traipse through those dreadful dances and listen to the inane banter that falls from those beautiful lips.
Not that I’m bitter.
Maybe I’m a little bitter. But that is all about to change. I have plans; big plans to not only get what I deserve but also to humiliate those insipid heroes.
I’ve made a reputation for myself. The Thief of Dunmire.
Dunmire is just a little town far to the north. It sounded neat but I went there once and the pride and joy of the town was a stone well. It was well crafted, the best well for a hundred miles. Good ‘ole Dunmire.
Oh, and Dunmire has a reputation of troll hunters. That sounds much more impressive than it sounds when you realize that the town warriors use massive pikes to impale trolls that are too dumb to do things like evade. Or duck. Or just, you know, not run head long into the pointy bit. People not from the north, like me, get impressed by troll hunters!
Plus Dunmire sounded like a good place to come from. Not like Riverdale. Thief of Riverdale? What did I ever steal there? Margery’s tulips? Gah!
The Thief of Dunmire. Reputation like that, you must think I’m rolling in wealth. I just do all of this for fun. The excitement of it all! Which is partly true. Seeing the look on the faces of people who have this unstealable trinket stolen is priceless but sadly, no. I work because I have to. And believe me, it is work.
Take this heist for instance; I have my eye on this precious little bauble inside the keep in Hammerheim. Hammerheim is a small little town Blaise was given when he became a man. I’d like to think it was him deflowering some maid in the sheets but with these goody goodies it was just his sixteenth birthday.
It was such a small little town, only twenty thousand souls inside a large walled city with a towering keep where Blaise lives more or less full time now throwing those awful parties that he no doubt hates to have. I was told how many acres encompass Hammerheim at some point, some farm land, some forested land right next to the walls of the city, but I really don’t remember because I really don’t care. You can’t really steal land. Well, you can, but that’s not the point I was making. What was I talking about? Oh right, my prize!
So there is this necklace, this pretty little necklace that was Blaise’s grandmothers; a tear shaped sapphire around a silver and platinum setting with a few diamonds. The Tear of Astra. And trust me; it’s as expensive as it sounds. Once nobility start naming something, it has value. The ruby necklace that dome noblewoman likes to wear? It’s worth something, but nowhere near as much as the Tear of Astra. It’s not a regular sapphire in the Tear of Astra; the sapphire is the deepest blue, about five inches by two inches. Everyone who’s ever seen it has remarked on its beauty.
So, Prince Blaise is holding a ball soon. But not just any ball. An engagement ball. He’s marrying some princess, Melinda from the Kingdom of Karnshold. It’s out…that way. Somewhere. Look, it’s not important. The Tear of Astra. That’s what’s important. And Blaise is going to give it to Melinda as a token of love. Gah! It’s so storybook it needs a thief to rain down a little reality onto these noble heroes.
Oh, and King Stavros will almost certainly be bringing a few of the crown jewels. The crown jewels are worth a lot more; there is a scepter, The Golden Scepter of Albadon, which is golden, obviously, with a ruby on top, a crown or two, a few rings, maybe the Ring of Atonement or the Ring of Rule, because of course he has a ring called the Ring of Rule, among others. None of them are magical either, to hear tell of the royal jewels. Which is unfortunate. I could have used something with a little magic, even if it was just a light to probe things in the dark.
So why am I going after the Tear of Astra? Other than that it is worth more than I am more likely to sell it for, it is a much better prize than the crown jewels. Oh, I love that the crown jewels are here. The king and the prince will just panic thinking that someone is after them. And while I know what I’m after the king doesn’t. And neither does Blaise. Did I mention that even other countries normally cut the hands off thieves trying to sell royal jewels, even a foreign nation’s jewels? That’s a lot of risk. And who’s going to buy them? I’d have to melt them down and then I just have a little bit of gold and some gems that I can get robbing a coach or merchant or something like that in the first place.
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Preparations for this have been underway for a long time. You don’t just walk into a town to steal some precious jewel cold. I know how I’m getting out and there already is acid, black paint, and a couple of contraptions in the right places. That wooded area outside the city walls has also been scouted as have the streets inside Hammerheim. This isn’t my first time here.
But that is getting out. Right now, I need to get in. Getting inside is sometimes difficult. You have to squirm your way in at times or use your tongue, if you’re good at that sort of thing. Sometimes things just slide right in, other times you have to use a little force. Not a lot mind you, but a little. And once I’m in I’ll find a job as a maid in the castle or a washerwoman. No one ever looks at washerwomen.
I did mention that I was a woman, right? It must have slipped my mind. Most people think I have a penis, which would make peeing a whole lot easier, so I’ve been told, but I’m not mad. I’m not some lady who has titles and demands attention. I’m a thief. One with the shadows! I’d rather that people know as little about me as possible. And if people are looking for a hairy man I get to walk right out under their noses.
There is a man in Hammerheim that I have to make contact with. Old Bernice. He’s a fence, sort of. I’ve had prior dealings with him. Sort of. I may not have dealt with him
directly but I’ve dealt with subordinates and associates of his. It’s all part of the plan. Trust me. Oh, and some of the people I’ve talked with have said that he’s been working with the heroes as of late. Yeah, I have a plan around that contingency too.
First things first: the gate. No getting to meet his highness Blaise without getting into Hammerheim. I’m dressed as a traveling woman should; a hooded cloak, simple short blade at my side, a peasant’s skirt and blouse, good boots covered in mud and…things that aren’t mud. The usual for a peasant girl like me. I have to sell the whole, I’m a poor and tired girl looking for work, if I’m going to get inside. Which isn’t hard for a few reasons. One, I am poor. Two, I am tired. It’s been a long walk to get to Hammerheim.
It’s not uncommon for nobles to hire on temporary workers for big parties. In fact, I’m surrounded by at least a dozen men and women all hoping to get work, either in the castle or hired on by a local merchant. And engagement parties? They’re really big parties. Lots of job opportunities.
“Next,” a guard said. He’s big, but then again a lot of people are bigger than me. He is wearing a breastplate over a suit of mail. Over his chest and draping down to his thighs is a red tunic with some golden crown over a pair of crossed swords on it. The Heldfalle coat of arms with their family motto “We stand for all” on a scroll over the crown. Well, that is certainly a noble sentiment but I only stand for me and my family.
“Hello sir,” I say, trying to be as cheerful as I can be.
“What’s your business?” he asks in a clearly bored voice. Neither one of us wants this confrontation.
“I’m looking for work,” I say.
“Work?” he asks, eyeing me.
“Yes,” I say. “Do you think that his highness will need women to wash his underclothes?”
“Probably,” the guard asks. The other guards are talking to others coming into town. They look as excited as this gentleman.
“Wish me luck,” I say, cheerily. I’m off to…why is his hand on my shoulder? I freeze! What did I do wrong? Dirty clothes? Check. Shit covered boots? Check. Cute innocent smile? Check.
“What’s that for?” the guard asked.
What’s what? My blade?
“Oh, this? Protection. You know.”
“I know?” he asks. God, really? Do I really have to explain it to him?
“You know…a lone woman. Out on the road? Alone?” I ask. How does he not know what I mean by protection?
He looks like he’s struggling to connect the words. He’s looking at me, thinking about the words, thinking….thinking….
“Oh, well obviously,” he says.
We have made a connection!
“I didn’t think it would be illegal…”
“The prince won’t appreciate armed washerwomen. You’ll have to stow it in the barracks while you’re here.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t worry. The prince has enough guards to watch over you while you’re here.”
“Oh. Yes,” I say.
“And none of them are dumb enough to try anything themselves. Prince Blaise, he runs things pretty tight around here,” the guard says.
“That is reassuring. I will make sure I hide it somewhere,” I say.
“The barracks, straight down the road, with the barred windows, off on your left,” he says pointing. “You can place it there and give your name to the officer on duty there. They’ll hold it for you while the ball is going on.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I say.
“Just…make sure you don’t leave there for more than a week,” the guard says.
“I won’t.”
“Good. On your way. And good luck getting work,” the guard says.
“Thank you sir,” I say.
He smiles and looks a bit more chipper. Always treat guards and workers with a title like sir or even my lady. They get all flustered and it puts you in their good graces, usually. Sometimes they’re just little bitches and it doesn’t matter what you call them.
I knew about the blade, of course. I knew I couldn’t hold onto my sword. I’ll have to stick it somewhere. I thought about sticking it in an alley but now I can just hide it in plain sight. Not sure if I’ll go back for it, but I can’t let people think I’m willing to toss a blade away. Raises too many questions. Always act like you’re going to carry on in a normal manner like everyone else. You never want to stick out.
It sure is busy. I knew it would be but seeing so many people here is different than seeing it in your mind’s eye. I walk down the street looking for the barracks. Ah, barred windows. I’m here.
Stepping in the barracks I see only two other people in front of me. One is a young woman about my height wearing a similar peasant skirt and blouse that I am. She hands over a blade and rushes out past me without so much as a hello. It’s all for the best.
Next is a man. He has a sword. Understandable. And a dagger. Always carry a backup. And another dagger. Backup for a backup. Always be prepared…and anther dagger. And…is that a blackjack? And brass knuckles?
“Is that all?” the officer asks.
It better be…oh no, he forget another dagger in his other boot, because, of course he has a dagger in his boot. What is his name? Steven? Steven is clearly paranoid.
“Miss,” Steven says as he passes me by. I nod my head with a girly little smile. My sister says I over exaggerate my pleasantries. She is outgoing by nature; a social little butterfly where as I am an anti-social butterfly. But, you have to pleasant, she says. Things will go easier if you’re a little bit more cheerful than you usually are.
“How can I help you?” the officer asks.
“Hi. I’m here to hand this off for safe keeping,” I say.
“Okay,” the officer says, taking the blade from me. He looks at me oddly.
“I don’t have any daggers!” I say with a laugh. He smiles. We’re in on the same joke together. See? I’m harmless and friendly.
“Name?”
Mary.
“Corvina,” I say.
“Corvina,” he repeats.
Seriously, Mary? There were only two other Mary’s in Riverdale. Three Mary’s! Two of us were the same age, give or take a few weeks. Well, no one ever accused my parents of being creative, rest their souls. We even looked alike. My father said it was a miracle. My mother agreed, rest her soul. The true miracle was my father’s ignorance to my mother’s dalliances.
But Corvina! Corvina sounds more, exotic! Corvina of Dunmire! Not that I tell people I’m from Dunmire. I tell them I’m from Riverdale usually. Always go with what you know.
“Where you from?” the officer asks.
“Riverdale,” I say.
“Oh! My wife’s sister is married to a man from Riverdale.”
See?
“Do they live there?”
“Yeah. A smith…”
“Robert?”
“Yeah. How is he?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been there but he was good. Gout hurts him a bit, obviously.”
“Yeah, I know. Doctors told him to watch what he eats.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t listen. To hear his wife yell anyway,” I say.
“Yeah, she’s got quite the pair of lungs. My wife is the same. Must have inherited it together.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s only because she cares,” I say.
“Yeah,” the officer says. “Be safe now.”
“I will, thanks!” I say with a smile. I’m practically skipping out of the barracks. Gah! I’m so sweet right now I’ll give myself a toothache! Okay, out of sight? Good. Let’s see…where is old Bernice? Some sort of general store with a putrid green painted door down some side street, which is a good front for a fence.
Making Good Neighbors
So, there I am, heading off to meet with Bernice when I see the young woman from the barracks. She turns to look at me before heading off in a different direction. Yeah, that’s right. Head to the keep.
Maybe I’m
just being paranoid, but the soldiers all are turning in my direction as I pass by them. I’ll just take a rest near that well up ahead. A few people are getting something to drink.
As I lean against the stone of the well I turn and see the soldiers looking at other people as well. I am paranoid. I have a good reason to be but I need to remember, no one else knows what I know right now.
“When does Princess Melinda arrive?” a woman asks.
“Today or tomorrow,” a man answers. The woman looks all flustered. Why do people get so excited when royalty comes through? Oh my god! There go people who were born far better off than I was! Squeal!
“I can’t wait,” the woman says.
I can’t either, but for a different reason; I love the romance of the engagement. I would love to see a prince give something like the Tear of Astra to a princess to announce their engagement. You know…if I wasn’t going to steal it.
It’s my turn for a drink. Just a sip of water while I take a look around. No puke green door down the nearby streets that I can see. Should I ask for directions? Nah. Don’t want to arouse suspicion.
“Better get to the main road early to get a good view,” the man says.
“I just hope all the jobs aren’t taken in the castle yet,” another woman says.
I hand the communal wooden cup and bucket to the next person in line. Time to move on.
“Not likely. For an engagement ball? There’ll be plenty of jobs in Blaise’s household. Two kings will be here!” a man said.
Let them have their party. My party will be sleeping on all the gold I’ll be getting from this heist. But first, I need to find…oh, before I find Bernice, I need to find one of his stashes. I nearly forgot.
Now, old Bernice, he’s very traditional about where he hides his wealth. Take this alley for instance. It’s narrow, dark, out of the way, and looks like it may have a loose stone somewhere. Of course you could lose track of where your stash is so Bernice marks them with two lines. They look like scratches on the bottom right of the stone so it doesn’t draw your eye to it.
The Thief of Dunmire and the Tear of Astra (The League of Sinister Means Book 1) Page 1
