by Wil Ogden
STEALING FOR MORE
For an Abvi, Lord Gehethrin had spoken in exceptionally ineloquent terms. Pantros laughed as the idiot stormed out of the Haughty Hedgehog. James, the lame Matderi who worked as the doorman, even had a smile on his face. Pantros couldn’t remember the last time he could perceive a smile through those whiskers. James had probably heard the whole conversation since Pantros had chosen the booth closest to the door to meet with the Abvi. The innkeeper came out from behind the bar and strolled over to sit across from Pantros.
“What’s up, sis?” Pantros asked, rolling his blue eyes.
“What did the Abvi want?” Tara, the innkeep, asked. She had raised Pantros for the last nine years since their parents had disappeared on a ship rounding the southern peninsula. She didn’t look much like her brother except for their noses. Tara had dark brown hair and deep brown eyes while Pantros’ hair was much lighter, nearly blonde and he had blue eyes. He had looked like their mother while Tara inherited most of her looks from their father.
“To hire me,” Pantros shrugged like it had been the most insane idea he had ever heard.
“You were offered a job?” Tara laughed. “I can’t even get you to help around our family’s inn. Why would you work for a stranger? What kind of work was it, anyway?” Tara asked.
“The kind I’m good at.” Pantros replied defensively. “And he offered me four hundred gold coins to do it.”
“You don’t steal things for other people.” Tara said tentatively then asked, “Do you?”
“Would he have left screaming obscenities at me if I did?” Pantros explained, shaking his head. “Why would I risk my ass to steal something so that I can hand it over to someone else for a fraction of its value?”
“I don’t get why you steal at all.” Tara declared. “I never have approved and I never will. You should take up an honest profession. I know Allen the net mender would apprentice you anytime you asked. He and dad were close friends. Your nimble fingers would probably excel at sewing nets.”
“I haven’t stolen anything since Bryan left town last month.” Pantros claimed.
“You can’t lie to me, Pan,” announced Tara. “I know that if anything you have been even busier. Funny, I always blamed Bryan for the trouble the two of you always got in. Now it seems that big oaf actually might have been a good influence.”
“I’m almost an adult.” Pantros said. “I can take care of myself.”
“I do everything I can to raise you to respect hard work and you go off and become a pick pocket and burglar.” Tara sighed.
James hobbled over and thumped the war hammer, which doubled as a crutch, on the floor. “Miss Tara, you done everything right.” The Matderi declared gruffly, nearly coughing up his words. “Your brother is a fine man. He just discovered that his talents seemed to lie just a little outside the normal career choices. He don’t steal from people that can’t afford to lose it or at least don’t deserve to lose it. The boy is good, too. I only know one man who could catch him and he’ll be guarding the door with me after dinner.”
Tara nodded and chuckled. “Are you admitting that Bouncer is a better bouncer than you?”
“Of course he is.” James said incredulously, like it should have been obvious. “The guy is named Bouncer; he’s gonna be the best at it. But, I don’t see Pantros when he is stealing the stuff back from the common thieves in the taproom. Bouncer will see it though. He’ll tap me on the shoulder and nod toward the boy. ‘Did you see that?’ Bouncer will ask and I’ll nod but I don’t see nothing but the boy standing there like he’s leering at the barmaids. Then Pan walks away and Bouncer laughs and I laugh 'cause I know the boy just robbed a robber blind but though I watched the whole thing, I never saw squat. I tell ya, If anyone else ever actually catches Pantros, I’ll eat my hammer.”
“Thanks, James.” Tara said. “You wouldn’t have said a word of Bouncer being better than you if there were even one customer in the tap room with us, would you?”
“The conversation never happened,” James coughed. “I know you know what I mean.”
“Right,” Tara said. “I never heard any of it from you.”
“Would they kick you out of the Matderi club for showing an ounce of modesty?” Pantros asked.
James scoffed and walked back to his stool by the door.
“You are gonna steal what he wanted you to steal and keep it for yourself, aren’t you?” Tara asked her brother.
“There is this sword that the Abvi said used to belong to the first King of Valencia.” Pantros explained. “The Abvi said he located this ancient Abvi heirloom in the collection of the Lord of the Tarred Decks clan and he wants me to get it back.”
“You don’t know how to use a sword.” Tara said, “Why would you steal one?”
“Just because I don’t own a sword, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one.” Pantros defended. “I just don’t want to own one. Carrying a weapon invites opportunities to use it. I am not as fond of fighting as, say, Bryan was.”
§
Clinging to the black stone wall with one hand and both feet, Pantros pulled a small oil soaked cloth from a belt pouch. He liberally scrubbed oil into the hinges of the window next to him. Replacing the cloth, he pulled out a fishing hook on two yards of line. He slowly forced the hook between the top of the window and the wall with a tiny iron rod then forced more and more of the line through until the hook hung just below the latch. He waited for the spin on the line to bring the hook to face the right way then tugged gently. The hook wrapped around the latch. With a slow pull, Pantros lifted the latch and pulled the window open. He sighed silently in relief as no sound came from the hinges.
Pantros had to climb down around the opened pane, and he barely managed to fit into the opening, but a moment later he stood on the floor of a very dusty room.
He had chosen the window because during the last three nights, the window had not shown any signs of illumination after dark. The flickering candlelight had faded from the other windows three hours earlier so Pantros felt sure that everyone would be sleeping except the guards posted at the front door.
Though the dust covering everything in the room meant that his entrance would not be noticed; Pantros did not like it. It meant he would leave a trail. That would not do at all. Already his soft boots had left four footprints on the floorboards and his gloves had left distinct hand shapes on the windowsill. He pulled the black scarf from his head and began brushing the dust up wildly. Carefully he backed towards the door, slapping the dust up behind him, obliterating the footprints, but leaving a less distinctive trail in the dust.
After oiling the hinges he opened the door into a long hallway that was dimly lit by a few candle sconces along the wall. He crept carefully through the hall. The lord kept his collection in a windowless room on the floor below. Pantros had a few ideas on how he would get there. Looking down a flight of stairs, he knew that his primary plan would have to be scrapped. Two guardsmen sat in the room at the bottom of the stairs and Pantros didn’t come prepared to fight his way in or out. Fighting wasn’t his style. He preferred the anonymity and the safety of the shadows. Creeping back down the hall, he estimated where the room would be on the first floor and sought a room above it. Carefully he entered the room, quickly noticing the figure sleeping in the bed several feet away. Just as quickly he noticed the laundry chute door. Slowly he crawled to the panel door on the wall. Peering inside he realized the fir would be tight, but he was slim enough. Slipping into the chute feet first, he used his knees and back to slowly descend. A dim light from the basement gave him enough light to see, but only barely. Unfortunately the chute did not have an opening into the collection room. Pantros would have to make one. Drawing a flat throwing knife, he slowly pried a board from the side of the chute. He took enough time and care to not make a sound. After wedging the board across the chute above him, he realized he still had the room wall to deal with. Luckily the room was wood paneled and not plastered. On
ce he had two more boards off, he could fit into the room.
Pantros realized one problem he hadn’t planned on. The room, having no windows, also had no light. Having trained his eyes, he could see by dim moonlight, but complete darkness intimidated him. He considered abandoning the job, but remembered spending the last hour prying boards and felt the effort should result in some reward.
He closed his eyes, deciding that anything they did see would be nothing more than hallucination. On his hands and knees he began exploring the room. Twenty minutes later, he knew that there were five pedestals and two display tables. Ten more minutes and he had identified seven wall displays, none of which would be the Abvi sword. Sure he had found four swords on the wall, but those had been matched pairs displayed crossed and the sword he sought would not have a match.
He ran through the image of the room that he had in his mind and quickly eliminated most of the pedestals and both tables. He walked carefully to where he remembered the largest pedestal to be and slowly began to feel for whatever the Trader Lord had displayed atop it. He found a sword in a vertical display, but not the rapier he had expected of an Abvi blade. The sword was a single edged broadsword with a heavily gem inlaid hilt and cross guard. Hoping he had chosen the correct weapon he slipped the blade from the display and moved back towards the opening in the wall.
Back inside the wall he hesitated. Braced with his knees and his back he held the sword in front of him with the point dangling between his legs. He didn’t like the position but he couldn’t think of a better one. He couldn’t decide whether to ascend or descend. Above had a familiarity to it but the boards still blocked the chute. Thinking that there might be a servants’ access or at least a coal chute in the basement, he opted for downward. Listening carefully, he didn’t hear any signs of people so he dropped the last ten feet, careful to hold the blade away from him and high so it didn’t clang against the floor. A small pile of laundry gave him an uneven landing and he nearly fell but he caught himself with his free hand, his other hand held the brilliant sword over his head.
In the light of a lantern hanging at the bottom of a stairwell, he could see that he had chosen the correct weapon. The blade seemed over a yard in length beyond the cross guard and was so heavily decorated with golden runes he might not have noticed the silvery steel that gave the weapon its strength. Sea blue gems covered almost half of the golden cross guard and hilt. He had never even heard of a sword so beautiful.
Realizing that the weapon had dazzled him, he looked away, looking for the coal chute. Not seeing any furnaces or ovens, he realized the coal must be up with the kitchen if at all. He did notice the servants’ door. Cautiously opening it, he saw the back of one of the house guards standing by the door. Holding his breath, he closed the door, when he heard the squeak of the doorknob; he knew the guard had too. He dove into a large pile of laundry.
He heard the door open and close and footsteps approach the laundry pile. He had only one chance. Pantros thrashed about wildly, pulling a white smock over his clothes, tearing the thong that held his ponytail in place away as he did. As expected, a hand grabbed him by the smock and yanked him from the laundry.
“Help!” Pantros screamed, flopping as much of his hair as he could in his face then looked at the guard and sighed, relieved, “Oh, it’s you. Thank the gods!”
“What?” asked the guard.
“A dark haired man in black leather came down while I was gathering the linens and hit me, then threw me in the laundry pile. I saw him open and close the back door before swearing and running upstairs. I think he had on of the Lord’s swords from his collection with him: a big shiny one with lots of gold.”
“Damn!” the guard swore and ran up the stairs. “I’ll send someone to look at your head after we catch that thief.”
Pantros quickly looked through the laundry and dug out the Abvi blade. A second later he was running as fast as he could across the lord’s grounds. He heard a bell begin to ring near the front door and just ran faster, clearing the seven-foot wall with a vault, he felt lucky not to twist an ankle on the landing. Moments later he found safety in the shadows of the back alleys by the docks.
§
“What time is it?” Pantros screamed from his bed to the person knocking at his door. It felt far too early to open his eyes.
“Two hours before noon.” His sister called back. “Get up, there is someone to see you at the bar.”
Far too early, he thought but struggled to his feet anyway. He tied his hair up without brushing it and headed downstairs wearing just the flannel pants that he slept in. He grabbed the Abvi blade from where it leaned by his door as he left. Somehow, he suspected that he knew who awaited him.
When he saw the uppity Abvi sitting at the bar, he smiled. He had guessed right. “Good morning,” he greeted Lord Gehethrin groggily and set the sword on the bar between them.
“I thought you didn’t take the job.” The Abvi said.
“I didn’t,” informed Pantros. “I found this sword during my social calls last night and thought I might keep it. I suppose I might be persuaded to sell it for the right price.”
“We agreed on four hundred gold.” The Abvi argued.
“No,” Pantros noted, “we didn’t agree. And now that I see this sword I realize that I could have purchased a lesser blade for twelve hundred just a month ago.”
“Fine, twelve hundred,” The Abvi conceded.
“I said a lesser sword,” Pantros clarified, “That makes me think this one is worth more; perhaps twice that.”
“Two thousand,” The Abvi countered, gritting his teeth.
“Sold to the red faced Abvi,” announced Pantros as he slid the blade across the bar, setting it against the Abvi’s hand.
The Abvi made a gesture and two other Abvi that Pantros hadn’t noticed walked over, lugging a small oak and brass chest. With a thud, they set it on a stool next to the Abvi Pantros was dealing with. He opened the chest and pulled out five leather bags. Each of the bags seemed the size of a five-pound flour sack, but they chinked and clunked much heavier as the Abvi placed them in front of Pantros. By the effort the two servant Abvi made when they left with chest, Pantros realized he could have easily held out for twice as much. It didn’t bother him. Two thousand gold for one night’s work made last night more profitable than the entirety of the last year. He set the bags on the floor behind the bar.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Pantros offered his hand to Lord Gehethrin.
The Abvi took it and smiled, clearly feeling he had made a good deal. “I will.”
About this story:
Pantros and Bouncer exist or are mentioned in all of my published books. This is the only step-by-step example of Pantros at work that I have written. The one thing I don’t want to write is the “How to be a burglar” book. I want my readers to think I did, however.