The Liar Arion Renshaw, King of Thieves

 

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So it begins...

 

 How to begin? Well, where does one ever begin? Here at the beginning of it all, or rather the end somewhere lost in the muddle of the middle. Here do I tell you the truth. Not her truth, but the whole truth. The precise truth. I, King of Thieves and interestingly enough a thief of kings, the impeccable, the irresistible, the indestructible Arion Renshaw do declare, this to be the truth!

 

           The Liar Arion Renshaw, King of Thieves

 

Here in the leaves of my diary, torn and soiled as they are, do I leave a record of my most heroic and influential journey. While I am far too modest a person to call myself a hero for these deeds I have been deemed so by others, the onlookers, the peasants, the little people. Those who were in no position to affect the outcome of that fateful day. The day I met my destiny and fulfilled my greatness. The day I met the Queen. The day I was arrested for trying to kill the very same Queen.

 

    “No. No, no, no. You have it all wrong my good man. My good, hey, don’t you walk away from me, whelp! I demand to speak to your lord! To your, to, to the Queen!”

“The Queen don’t speak to prisoners. Specially them that try to do her in."

“What? Do her in? I wasn’t trying to do her in! I resent that good sir! Do her perhaps yes, but not in."

The slack jawed guard spat a wad of leaves and tar that quickly became indistinguishable from the ground itself. He walked, nay, lurched across the room towards my accomodations.  His cumbersome head barely fit into the small barred window in the otherwise wooden door.

“If the Queen wants to speak to the likes o’ you titmouse, she’ll let you know. Til then, keep yer gob tight.” He struck the bars above my head and turning with all the grace of a cow, headed back to his post.

“Well, keeps me from having to suffer the vision of, I suppose one might call that a face."

 

As the nameless guard lumbered away I called him many a foul and red cheeked names. All in my head of course, I refused to be chained to the wall and whipped like the poor fools I saw while I was being dragged into this stinking pit. Unlike them, I knew how to hold my tongue. I attempted to make the miserable stone cell more to my liking. Piled straw in the corner was to sleep on, I assumed. You see, as the master of all thieves I had been in a jail cell or two in my day, but my visits were always purposeful and never lasted more than a night. A night in which I never slept. I was hoping tonight would turn out in a similar fashion.

Still I had to make it look as if I were about to utilize the graciously offered straw bedding. I took a small step to the other side of the room, it was a cozy cell, the stones were bitterly cold under my bare feet. Still clinging desperately to winters chill even though the snow had been gone for more than a month. Not about to let the brisk floor or the bleak draft get me down I grabbed a few handfuls of straw and fluffed them up. The undeniable, irreplaceable bouquet of piss wafted, nay dashed into my nostrils. My eyes watered and with nothing with which to wipe them I was resigned to spend the rest of the evening bleary. I should face the truth, this wasn’t the first time I was cold, naked and crying on the floor. Just the first time I was alone while doing so. It would be a night of firsts.

 

    I had just found the warmest, well least cold that is, part of the floor to curl upon when I heard boot-steps approaching. I always wondered about guards and their footwear. People always claim that the eyes are windows to the soul. Well, I guess that could be true. But the windows to the life, the way of a person, that lies in their footwear. No matter where I was, which town and even which country, the guards always wore the same boots. Same deep as night, dark as a pigs eye black. The same cheap grain leather, I should know I’ve been kicked in the face enough and I’ve a memory like a printed page. Not that one would often forget a boot to the nose. They never seemed to fit right, were uncomfortable, expensive on a guards pay and more often than not were always covered in mud and shit. That was how you knew a man wasn’t doing his job, his boots were clean.

    He opened my cell, that oh so familiar sound of metal and tumblers and freedom. It always amazed me how the first time you hear that sound it could mean death and the second, while being exactly the same, is sweeter than a first climax. It is the sound of heaven. The door swung wide with little effort and there in all my naked, shivering glory I stood. My oafish jailor was the only thing that stood between be and freedom. All I had to do was land a kick in his jiggling gut and make a scramble towards the door. I looked down at his boots. They were filthy. I reconsidered my options.

“So, been a busy day has it?”

His punch was clumsy, yet effective and I doubled over breathless.

“That’s enough, Otto. We need him alive."

I heard a voice, sweet as honey. But with the prize of honey comes the fear of the bee’s sting. I must admit in that moment I was afraid to turn around. Afraid of who I would find and exactly for what reason she needed me alive.

Otto, as he was called, grumbled slightly, a small earthquake if ever I’ve heard one.

“Yes, my Queen." And in a single word were all my fears confirmed.

I stood straight up and tried not to shrink. She was a Queen after all and she deserved to see the best thief in the world at his top condition, if not in action, then perfect in inaction. She wasn’t just a Queen, I told myself, she was my Queen. The Queen of Navora, my beloved home whether it liked it or not.

Her footsteps were slight, soft velvet slippers dancing on harsh stones. More like a brush on canvas compared to the hammer on anvil of the leather boots of Otto.

She approached. I felt her gaze on my back like a hot iron. The absolute tips of her fingers ever so lightly ran along my shoulder.

“Cold? Otto, fetch his things."

“His clothes only, madam?” So they had gone through my things. Surely they had found the pouches of pilfered gold hubs. The necklace of red stones.

The brooch.

The lockpicks, the knives, the rope and grapple. All the things one needs to be a thief.

“All of his things. I need him well-." She rounded my shoulder and faced me head on. Well, she was in front of me at least.

“Equipped. Not so cold in here after all." I couldn’t help it, I flexed a bit.

“You swine you!” Otto raised another ham hock and leveled it at my gut once more. His blow was caught by a noble and graceful hand.

“His things Otto. If I have to ask it one more time it will be your head in the stocks. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your Gracefulness. At once."

Not once while she spoke to him did she grace Otto with her gaze, her eyes were locked on mine. Or rather mine were locked in hers. What I saw therein made my knees weak and my spine shiver. Never before has a chilly, calculating gaze been more inviting. When she spoke I heard violins. She had me in the palm of her hand. I would have done anything for her in that moment.

Hells be damned, I did do anything for her.

“So, Arion Renshaw, King of Thieves. Here in my dungeon. I am honored, your grace." She was wearing the brooch of woven gold that I previously, if ever so briefly, held in my hands.

Fanning out her brocade and velvet gown she curtsied. I had never been more aware of my nakedness than in that moment, neither before nor after.

 

    “I feel, if your Grace permits me of course, that I must apologize. You see earlier this morning I had no intentions of robbing your Grace. I fully intended to rob someone else. I would never think to assume that I even share the same roads as you let alone to take that which belonged to you as my own. And may I say, that brooch has never looked better than when it is graced with your beauty. I simply didn’t so it justice."

“And that dagger you held so well at my throat?”

“Ah, yes, a mere show of force my Good Queen Ciena. I had no intentions of using it, but I had to make your most able guards believe that I would. I do truly and humbly apologize and beg forgiveness. I throw myself on you most gloried mercy." It looked to me like she was going to strike me. But then I remembered, royals have people for that. There is no need to dirty their own hands by smacking the peasants. Since she made no call for Otto the oafish, I breathed again.

“Let no worries rest upon that fetching face my fine filcher; you are a thief and you were doing what comes naturally to all thieves. The fact that you are the best is the only reason you still draw breath. A lesser thief would be hanging from the gibbet as we speak. In fact, I do believe there is one swinging now. Would you like to meet him?”

A lump stuck in my throat. That poor thief was no one I knew, even had we met I was sure I wouldn’t recognize him. I felt it might do poorly for my health if I did.

“Of course not your grave- Grace! Surely I do not know the man, as I refuse to consort with those who are beneath me. And I take your meaning. Permit me to ask then, why was the graceful Queen Ciena not in her royal carriage? Certainly there is no better deterrent to a thief than the royal seal?” I tried to sound innocent. I don’t think it worked.

“More to the point, had I been riding in the royal carriage, with seal and guards, you would have found yourself unable to resist the temptation and the promise of the royal jewels therein."

I hate the burden of always being right. She was good.

“This clearly is not the first thief with which you have dealt. Your Grace should have come to me first and cut out all the riff raff. No matter the job, I am the man for it, I always say." I gave my greatest bow with the most delicacy an unclad man could muster.

“Yes I should have known to go to the King of Thieves, the Master-Tasker for this job."

“While I do appreciate being appreciated your Grace, please do not mistake the rantings of an overly immodest vassal like myself for the artistry and ascendancy of the righteous and true power."

She smiled. It was the most I could ask for. Rich people don’t laugh. Leastaways, not in front of peasants like me.

“True power? Hmm." She turned her face away from me, still I could see a lingering sadness.

Otto finally returned with my things, though the oaf forgot my sword. She stepped away while I dressed. I suppose it was unbecoming of a Queen to watch a stranger clothe himself. She waved Otto away and though he was smart enough not to question her again, he gave me a look and a brush of his thumb under his chin that told me to keep my hands to myself. I listened to him. Mostly.

 

    Finally feeling like myself again I turned to her just to see her brush her cheek.

“I have a job for you. I’m sure working for royalty isn’t quite your style, however this mission requires the best. And I have it on good authority, in addition to your own, that you are the best."

“Your Grace, I do believe I’m blushing. Please, whatever these deceptively gentle hands can do for you my Queen don’t hesitate to command."

“Not too gentle I hope. An item was stolen from me, from us, and we need it back." I chuckled.

“Is that all? My, my, I thought you were going to ask me to do something difficult."

“Do not take this lightly, Renshaw."

“Please, my friends call me Ari."

“I shall call you Renshaw, for you are not my friend. You are a servant, a criminal, a tool, and I am your Queen and master. This mission is of the utmost importance. If this thing is lost to us we will be thrust into a war we have no hope of winning. It was stolen from us by a Duroghonese spy who has ties to the dissident movement there. You know of these people and their goals? They desire the throne of Durogho and once it is theirs they found an all out war against us. If we do not get back this thing, if we fall, the rest of the world will follow. If you care anything at all for this country, for the people here, you will do as I command. And before you can ask, yes, you will be greatly rewarded."

“Your Grace I am wounded to think that you only believe I care about wealth and gold."

I also care a great deal about what, where and with whom that wealth can get me.

“You aren’t wounded yet but believe me you will be if you fail me. I can see that you have no mark upon your back. You have never been caught long enough to be punished. Your reputation has been made a fact to me. When you succeed in returning to me the stolen item you will be rewarded with pressed gold crowns. They will bear the mark of this crown and country and we both know what they are worth in this land."

As a reflex I stroked my beard. It was a tell I couldn’t shake. I was terrible at cards.

“A good two to one against the Durogho ducat. Not to haggle over the minutia, but I am a businessman at the core. Exactly how much gold are we talking about here?”

“100,000 pieces. Does that suffice?”

My head was swimming. Did she know how many ales, how many nights at the Rosie Waterfall, how many lockpicks I could buy with that? But still I remembered my teachings, never settle on the first bid, no matter how many orgasams it could purchase.

“There is one thing that could sweeten the deal. I want my pick of one item from the castle treasury."

“Only one?”

“I may be a greedy man, but even I know the limits of accommodation."

“One hundred thousand pressed gold crowns and your choice of one item from the treasury. It is done. And you have my word that there will be many things of interest when you come to take your prize. I will not cheat you of your reward. Assuming of course that you succeed in order to earn it. All of this and of course your freedom."

“Thank you your Grace, my life means the world to me. But no more than the knowledge that you will hold me in high esteem."

She seemed to require some further reassurance.

“My Queen, have no fear. I am as good as they say I am. I will retrieve this item for you and none will be the wiser. May I be so bold as to inquire as to why you are purchasing my rather expensive services and not the King?” She smiled woefully and paced around the room.

“The good King Vitomar is frail. He believes this thing is safe and to tell him the truth could be the death of him. His death would even sooner plunge us headlong into war. He cannot know about this. Not until the thing is returned and your mission complete. Do I make myself understood?”

“Perfectly as always, your Grace. So we have the mission set, the reward established, now what in the known world could it be that I am retreiving to avert a war? What one thing could be so powerful, so important that it could end this nation?”

Her lips quivered slightly and her throat tightened at the very thought of the words she would next say.

“It is not a what, it is a whom. A him.” She blinked away a tear.

“The Revisionaries stole my son."

Her face, the heartache written there, it broke me. Then I knew that I would do anything she asked of me, anything within my power to alleviate her pain for even the slightest moment, and for no reward at all. Not that I would share that last part. I did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

“Your Grace, I will do what you ask of me. I will find the Prince and return him safely home to you and the King. And not a thing on this earth or sent up from below will stop me. You have my word as a man who once had a mother, I will not fail you."

“Take this then as a token of our pact and as a sign of good faith between us. It bears the crest of our family, if you find yourself in trouble do not hesitate to use it." She handed me the brooch from her gown, the same one I had stolen mere hours before.

“There is one thing more I must tell you." Of course there is, there always is. I said nothing.

“The Royal family of Durogho do not know my son is missing. They cannot know. They would see it as a sign of weakness if they learned we could not even keep our own kin safe and they would not trust us with their daughter. He must be returned before their wedding is to begin."

“And when is that set to occur?”

“One week after the blooming of the first rose in our royal garden." The spring thaw had already begun and the whiteness of snow was soon to ebb into fields of green. I renewed my vow, kissed her hand and she left. It was then I reminded myself of the greatest words ever given to me by my father, or my uncle, one of them anyway; there’s always a catch.

I thought about my words, the mission before me and I knew then that I would not fail. For the first time in my life I gave my word and I meant it. This was going to be an interesting mission.

 
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Greed

Day broke in a haze over the eastern shore and I was once again a free man. Well, free to a point. There was still the ethereal weight of a hangman’s noose on my neck. A feeling that distance would shake. Distance and a tall ale.

    The palace I left behind me and was soon swallowed up by the fog as I descended the golden hill. South. I would go south and there I hoped to find that same swinging sign and the same dirt, greasy faces I had left behind what seemed like a lifetime ago. In truth I had been gone only a few months, but one does not easily forget the warm comfort of their home. Even if that home was a tavern. My head high as I passed the guard towers, undoubtedly they has heard of my great exploits but had no face to go along with the deeds and I was allowed to pass without incident. I breathed deep the scent of Sunden. Ah! My heart was indeed lightened by the sight of home now shaking itself loose from the clutches of winter. I was reminded of my task, my promise and the seemingly impossible mission that lay before me. I quickened my pace.

 

    Just below the horizon and just above the crest of the city walls I could barely make out the Ardethi Bay, and from there the endless ocean. Of all the cities in all the countries I had travelled to, Navora had the most spectacular sunrises I ever had the glory to witness. I had no time that day however to revel in the rays and warmth of the sun. Passing the cobbled bridge over the Noble river, the fish were holding their position, testing their power against that of the water. It was small perhaps, but it was still a mighty thing and the fish were soon swept away. Carts were being loaded, stalls prepared and opened in the market ring in the center of the city. The tall buildings made way for the open air, the banners and flags, the shouts and bellows of merchants hawking their wares. By the noon day sun the stink of fish would be high, and the town drunk would be begging for another round. I smiled as I passed her, yarning off another nights revelry. For those of us in the know, she was a clever woman with a set of very talented, if a bit sticky fingers. She had a new story for every day of the year and while most of the folk here thought she spun a wild yarn there are those of us who know enough to see the single card of truth hidden in a pack of lies. A drunk she was yes, and a dear friend. I flipped her a coin and gave her a wink. She wouldn’t go dry on my watch.

    

I crossed the crowded and suffocating land between the business district and the residential zone. Deeper into the, ahem, less affluent areas the taller the buildings became. The royals would do anything to keep people in homes as far away from their own as possible. May the gods keep the Anvars. I ducked around a corner and dashed just in time to escape the wrath of a piss bucket being dumped from well over my head. I gave the scully a proper greeting but she was dead eyed to me and the rest of the world. Stepping around a hooded beggar I saw it there at the end of the road; the last door on the left of debauchery row. The Toothless Bard. My home, nay, my castle, my keep. Before I could take one step towards it however, a cough.

“Alms, eh? For me medicine." Another cough forced and haggard. I laughed to myself as I knew all too well what this was. It is impossible to con a con.

“Of course my dear man, let me help you to the apothecary.” I reached for his arm and he jerked away, far too quickly for a person in their condition.     

“Please no! I haven’t the strength yet. I will go in my own time." He gathered up to move and I grabbed an elbow.

“Now, now, I simply must help you up” I caught a knee to the balls and a fist upside my chin for the effort. Pup was fast, I’ll give him that. He sprinted down the lane and out of sight before I could recover. It’s just as well, my gold was well enough spent as it was, I had no desire to lose more of it.

 

    “Ahoy there! Ari my boy, haven’t I told ye not to molest the louses?” The familiar sound of a country voice and I was home again. Ignoring the pain in my nethers I stood and shook the hand of the man I loved dearest in my life, the one who raised me, the toothless bard himself.

“‘Allo there, Donal. Shouldn’t ye be mindin’ the taps ya tavern tapper?”

“Aye and ye shouldn’t be making no fun seein’ as how you got smacked in the jewels by a child.” He took me by the shoulder.

“How many times have I asked you, my dear Don, that you should acquire the city speak and lose this farmers brogue you brought with you. You stand out. It makes you a target."

We entered the tavern.

“Says the man who just got-” a crash of dishes and a foul curse cut off the old man.

“Aha, dear Midona! How are you sister?”

“Oh I’d be a damn sight better if I could have some help cleaning up. How are you my foundling?”

“Getting better every moment.” I kissed her on the cheek and took in the sights of the filthy, musty, glorious tavern.

All the usuals were present and accounted for; the sleeping bard Rhyma draped over a bench, flame haired and drooling in all her splendor. Allie-Bella the silversmith and Calvern the fletchers assistant in the corner speaking low about what I can only guess. I do hope it’s a love affair and not over mundane affairs like work or warfare. Hoffelson the groundskeeper got up from his seat with a noticeable limp and stepped outside for a piss. And there in the far corner some of my favorite faces, Robertta the widow logger, Tharise the clothier and Terse the acrobat, tumbler, pickpocket, listener to all things and knower of even more.

“Arion, thank the gods you’re here."

“Things must be bad if you’re evoking the gods, my friend.” I sat down across from him and kissed the hands of both ladies with varying degrees of success.

“You’ve been gone a while so you probably don’t know all the shit that’s been going down here. The power these people have has finally gone to their heads, man. It’s chaos."

“Things looked fine when I arrived this morning. Everything dirty and smelly as usual. Why are you so worked up. Have a drink, settle down and let me tell you all about my night.” I winked at Robertta as Terse began to turn red.

“They’ve got Feyhin. Got him in the stocks and they’re setting a trial date. This is bad man, this is so bad.” He got up and paced around the room, his face barely above the tabletop.

“Can’t the mighty Servant of the Wind just, I don’t know, fly away?” Terse darted across the table and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt.

“Will you take this seriously please for one gods lost second! He is in the stocks. He can’t get away and they’re going to kill him tonight if we don’t break him loose!” I patted him on his hairless head.

“Then that, my dear dwarf, is exactly what we shall do. I need his help in any event. Have you seen him? How is he physically?”

“Hang on a damn minute Ari, what the hell do you need him for? He ain't been there long but I don’t know how well he’s being treated. They arrested him for crimes against god." The ladies left the table at some point, though I was unaware of when it took place. I was surprised to have missed the event.

“You mean the gods right?”

“No. The church has decided that the gods are now the one god. All of the gods we knew were just aspects of the one and true god. Or so they say. Ari, they’re serious about this.  That god of there’s doesn’t like to be crossed.”

“And what was his crime? Surely he’s the most moral of us all. What could he have done to anger this god and his followers?” Midona delivered a mug and I drank greedily and deep.

“They caught him. In bed. With- you know."

“So this god has something against love has it?” The tavern door swung open to reveal a burst of sunlight and the silhouette of a lady.

“Well, in any event we should take this discussion of ours to the back. There can we better formulate our plan. Come." The back room, the place where most of, if not all of our plots were hatched. The most successful of which were all of Terse’s design, he was quick to point out. We took our seats and began our planning. I breathed deep and coughed.

“Musty in here. My good friend, don’t tell me you’ve been awaiting my return before you leap back into a life of crime?”

He snorted. “Certainly not. I’ve been, preoccupied." His wicked, delightfully jagged grin came through in the dark as Midona lit the fire.

I found my pipe on the shelf behind me, just where I had left it. A black resin blocked the spout and no amount of knocking it against my boot would clear it. So I reached into my coat and pulled out a rolled smoke, lit it from the fireplace and returned to my seat.

“But that’s not the discussion for today. How are we going to break into the stocks, into the Hall of Authority and leave with Feyhin and his head still attached? They’re not going to let us just go in and walk him out?”

“Well, we have a few options now do we not? I am assuming this new god allows for the salvation of the souls of the damned? Yes, good. We can dress as they do and enter in that fashion. We have the ability and the garb of the guards we can always use that old trick and walk in under their noses. Or, and this one is of course my favorite, we can simply bribe a guard, pick a lock or two and we shall have our man in no time. What do you think?”

He pondered the problems with my plans, as he always did and he found the flaws a touch faster than I would have liked.

“One, the clerics that minister to the damned are housed within the walls of the Hall. They do not leave. In this way none can sneak in under their guise. We thought of that one already. Two, the guards have changed their uniforms recently so the old ones we have are useless. Even Tharise can’t reproduce them, they use some kind of special thread made only for them. Believe me, we asked.”

As my friend spoke I felt something near the nape of my neck. It was the unmistakable feeling that we were being watched. I allowed Terse to continue and stepped up from my seat. I opened the door to the tavern proper. Everyone was where I had left them, Donal at the bar, Midona wiping the far tables and the new woman with deliciously auburn hair and a small bronze ring sitting at the table nearest our door.

“Two more, master.”

“What was that about? Doesn’t matter. Anyway, even if we could find a guard willing to help us with the last plan, where are we going to find that kind of coin? We can’t bribe him with a wink and a jerk. Not anymore anyway."

I smiled.

“You find the guard, I’ve got the coin covered." I reached into my coat for the brooch bearing the seal of the Anvar Queen. Instead I found a pile of lint and a pit in my gut.

“Where, where is it? The brooch! It’s gone!” I rushed out of the room. I had half a hope that I had dropped it somewhere in the tavern and it lay there awaiting my return. Deep down I knew what had occurred and it was soon confirmed by Donal from behind the bar. He hardly had to look up at me to know the problem.

“I tried to tell ye son, you got swiped. That beggar took it clean off’f ya."

“Where? Where does he go? Where is he now? I must have that back!” I reached over the bar and took him by the collar of his linen shirt.

“Easy now lad. I don’t know where he goes, he ain’t around much, if ever. But if he gonna sell it, I know who it be to. Seum’s Trade House, down the end of this road and to the left a ways. Across from the butcher near the slums wall. What is that thing anyway?”

“The best chance we have at averting a war. Terse, come with me, I may have need of your skills." We quit the tavern and headed towards our only remaining hope, that our thief was just as greedy as we were.

 
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Time

Terse and I had split up in effort to cover as much ground as possible he headed along the northern path of smooth stone and I the southern clay road, lest our hooded quarry pass us on a sidelong street. I had given him an adequate description of the rapscallion before our parting.

“ Nearly a head shorter than I, hooded though I believed I saw a strand or two of brown hair creeping from the side of the hood, gloves covered the hands but I had seen a touch of skin, somewhat darker than mine but yet not dark enough to be called so. A half breed perhaps though from where I had not a clue. I had not seen his eyes, not initially, but when he gave up to run I had seen from them a look at once so deadly fierce and yet also so soft. A fawny velvet brown that held within them there the keen will of a fox and also the power and tenacity of the bear.” Terse had a furrowed brow. Hands on his hips, that half-gentlemanly half-man was growing impatient with me!

“What?”

“Dear gods Ari, I’m surprised you didn’t jump him right then and there.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea of what you speak and I shan’t comment on it further.” I whipped the tail of my short cloak in an admittedly overly dramatic fashion.

“Gods afire Arion, you were practically pitching a tent just describing him to me. I should know, I’m the right height to notice. Anyway, which way you think he went?”

“We haven’t much time to ponder, and even less to be incorrect. I shall take the southern road east and you the northern and we shall meet up at the brokers place.”

 

    So it was that we met there and neither of us had seen nor heard of the criminal. Terse, upon arriving before me, inquired about this person to the Pawn Master and he had seen nothing of him. During my little sojourn I had been over and over the incident in my mind. Recalling the movement of the man, the sound of his voice and strength of his kick. I winced and stopped an involuntary guarding of myself. The height and voice made me consider the age of the person for which I searched. But then the kick-

“Hullo friend, we may be ahead of our quarry after all. Seum hasn’t seen him, or the brooch. You got any other ideas?”

“Yes I do, I most certainly do. Tell me, you are in the habit of scrapping a bit yes?”

“This really isn’t the time to wrestle, Ari.’

“That’s neither here nor there. When you fight another man is there anytime at which it is acceptable to kick, punch or otherwise assault the-” And here I pointed for clarification. “The nether gentles of another man?”

“Depends on the fight. A bar brawl? Not a chance. Fight over a wench. Not usually. A life or death fight is about the only place I could think of it, and even then only as a last resort. What are you thinking?”

“Whomever assaulted me did so swiftly and with much, I’m assuming, practice. It seems to me that many men have had the unfortunate occasion to be-” I paused to find the right phrase.

“Kicked in the balls, is what you mean to say.”

“Eloquent. Yes I mean to say kicked in the balls. The sticky fingered assailant used this attack not as a last resort but as a hasty and opening move. There was a strength there and an exactitude of precision that belies previous experience. Terse, I do believe we are dealing with a woman.”

“Might explain why no one seems to know who were looking for.”

“Yes. And, I wonder, if she got very lucky with this take or if she knew exactly what she was looking for all along. What do you think?”

“No one’s that lucky. Not in this city, not anymore.”

“So if she knew what she was taking, if she knew my mission and that I am working at the express request of the Queen - the gods alight who is this woman Terse?” I scratched my chin and paced about the center of the crossroads.

“Or more importantly, who pays her expenses?”

“It does always seem to come back around to that.”

“The almighty hub.” He scoffed.

“Terse, I fear we have been led astray by a well trained thief.”

“A thief? The best way to catch a thief is with another, better thief. And one who knows this shit hole town and all the players in it.” Terse clicked his tongue. He always did that when he got a good idea. It was the slightest, most endearing quality he had and my personal favorite. It usually meant good fortune for me.

“And there’s not a one in the know better than dear Mathilda. I saw her earlier today near the market ring.”

“Well I saw her down by the pond when I passed by and she had the shade of a long nap about her eyes. If we can hurry maybe we can catch her awake.”

    We rushed as fast as our feet could carry us, myself a sight faster than Terse but he knew his way through this town better than I and indeed he reached our girl before I did. He was holding her jug of wine away from her grasp in desperate order to keep her awake.

 

    I took Mathilda by the arm and helped her up. If we were to enter into an arrangement on this I needed to do so without the prying eyes of the riff-raff. We followed the road downhill, there would be no conquering the way north for her in this state, and there was a secluded section of wall that dipped. It made a cozy little spot for tramps, thieves, and now we who plotted the safekeeping of the kingdom. These were dark days for Navora indeed.

    “Mathilda. Hey, steady now, I need your help once again.” With difficulty she raised her head and looked me in the eyes with a squint.

“Eh? Oh it’s you. What do you need this time Ari? Someone with a cure for the trouser spots?”

“I need you to help me get into the Hall of Authority. Feyhin, you remember him don’t you? He’s been locked up for a while now and we thought it was high time someone busted him out again. Can you help us?” She pondered the problem a few, long seconds. It seemed to sober her up if nothing else.

“Feyhin? He’s a nice fella. Brings me cured ham and blankets in the winter. I’ll do what I can but you’re gonna need more help than just I can give. Let me see here. Getting in is the easy part. Get yourself caught!”

“I’m afraid that won’t work as we would like to get out again, quickly and with our heads still attached.”

She scratched her chin with a filthy fingernail.

“Always making shit harder than it has to be, eh?”

“I needn't remind you darling, that time is against us.” To which Terse added before taking a watch of the road, “Ain’t it always?”

“All right damn! Keep yer shirt on fellas. So you need to get in, release the bird and get out again without anyone seein’ ya? Easy pumpkin. You go to the southwest door. I know, it looks guarded but I  happen to have it on good authority that the guard leaves his post. He puts his helmet in the window so as not to get caught by the walk around patrols. Yeah, he leaves it there while he goes down to the wall to get his “sword polished”.” Her laugh was wheezy and husky.

“On whose authority again, do you have this tale?”

“Heard it straight from the polishers mouth. You got the hubs, he can be there again tonight.”

“Let it never be said henceforth that the guardsmen don’t know how to have a good, dirty-fun time.”

“Aw hells that ain’t nothing. I know which guards are queer, which ones have illegitimate pups with the  castle help, which ones have a weakness for the “unsavory”, you know, wearing dresses and what not. I even know which of ‘em are on the Fang.”

“I’m a man who knows vice like the beard on my face, but what in Korvara’s name is ‘Fang’?”

“The newest, deadliest and if I’m being honest, greatest new drug to take hold of this city since poppy-sugar. It’s venom from some snake somewhere, I can’t remember the name, and a few other less fantastic ingredients. Some oil, a bit of red sulphur and a pinch of cough tonic for the extra little kick. Very tough, very strong, and very easy to make. Though if the ‘poth’ don’t know what he’s doing he could just as well kill ya as buzz ya. You put it in a dropper and feed it through down to a snake fang and then ‘POP’! Right down into a vein of your choosing. I hear they like to use the leg, more meat to cushion the effects.”

“Sounds ghastly. Any of the guards on duty tonight have the inclination?”

“Leave a vial of it inside the door near the barricade to the northern gate.”

“Anything else I should know about this, drug? Identifying the users can’t be easy.”

“Oh-ho I almost forgot. The ones who use it, the ones who really use it. Their skin begins to change, it hardened and withers down almost to the point of scales. That’s how you can tell. It burns itself into them. Once it reaches that point, there’s no turning back. You’re a snake for life.”

“Very well. Go and find us a sample of this drug, I give you the money for it when we return here tonight one hour after sundown. I will find this man if you describe him to me. I shall have a little something extra for you tonight as well, once this job is done.”

Mathilda went on her way, a sour look on her face. I trusted her with my life, but not with my coin. I wasn’t a complete fool. Terse and I headed back towards the tavern where we would wait for the falling sun.

 
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The Hall of Authority

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A Fire Inside

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The Night Ride

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Under a Bare Fig Tree

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On the Water

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A Game of Chance

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Violet Sails in the Sunset

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Realization Of A Thing Known As Hate

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My Fair Lady Nemesis

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