by A.R. Wise
* * *
Abraham was on patrol for the sixth day in a row. Murien and the other captains had been instructed to increase the number of Swords around the Central Market due to a high number of people being reported missing. The first cases had been minor, with the occasional transient claiming that they hadn’t seen a friend for weeks and was worried, but then people of repute began to vanish. Worst of all, the location of the disappearances had moved from the south side of the city up to the center, threatening to continue on to the wealthy north district. That couldn’t be allowed.
The Central Market of New Carrington was where the majority of the shopkeepers plied their wares. Wealthier merchants of distinct lineage could afford to purchase storefronts, the best of which were in the North District, but the entire market was ringed by first and second generation shops. The center of the area was purposefully left wide and open, allowing plenty of space for wagons to pass, and merchants who couldn’t afford permanent storefronts came here with carts full of ripe vegetables, baked goods, and even clothing.
New Carrington wasn’t the largest of The Five Walls, with Golden Rock easily taking that honor, but its accessibility to the Tennerblane River allowed easy travel for exotic items. The city was well-known for the abundant spices sold here, and many claimed the food was better here than anywhere else in the kingdom.
Smoke from barbeque pits filled the air, creating a savory atmosphere that tempted Abraham. He was walking past one of the meat merchants, admiring a succulent pile of pulled pork, when he caught sight of a thin man in a cloak slipping through the crowd, occasionally bumping into people as he went. Abraham paused and watched, having learned from Murien how to spot a pickpocket.
It was a carefully practiced skill, and relied on the fact that most people struggle to focus on more than one thing at a time. With a quick, sudden bump against the chest, a person is made unaware of the slighter sensation of their pocket being invaded.
Abraham tailed the suspect as the man weaved through the crowd one lane over. Merchants separated Abraham from the thief, giving him cover as he studied what the cloaked figure was doing. All it took was the sound of a victim saying, “Hey, my purse is gone,” to send Abraham chasing after the thief. He bounded between a baker and a tailor, pushing aside a cart of bread and earning a foul remark from the owner.
The thief glanced over when he heard the commotion and saw Abraham charging his way. The suspect looked young, handsome but gaunt, with brown hair and just a patch of beard on his chin. He knew he’d been caught, and darted away.
Abraham yelled out, “Hold,” but the thief moved too fast, easily disappearing within the crowd. Next Abraham tried to get the people nearby to help stop the criminal, but by the time they realized what was happening the thief had already slipped past them. By the time Abraham got over to where the thief had been, the young man was already gone.
The rest of the day was uneventful, with a few minor squabbles to break up and a woman who fell, hurt her leg, and needed Abraham to help her to a nearby seat. There wasn’t any sign of the pickpocket, and no clues pertaining to the missing persons. Dusk signaled the end of his shift, and Abraham headed to the tavern to relax.
Tully’s Tavern was out near the east gate, and Abraham had to wait as a slew of merchants filed out of the city during one of the few allotted times that the gate was opened. There was also a line of people waiting to come back into the city as well, each of them undergoing the standard search procedure that The Order required to keep out any illegal items. While they allowed the relics of the ancients to be sold outside of the walled cities, The Order was incredibly strict about keeping those things from poisoning the citizens within.
There had been a time when The Order of the Nine even forbid the sale of relics on the other side of the walls, but that was a hard thing to prevent, and it’d become a well-known practice. The Order decided to increase the penalty for being caught with ancient relics, and hoped that the populace would only go out to look at the treasures those merchants carried and not be tempted to purchase anything. While this seemed to stem the problem, most of the Swords knew there was contraband being purchased, otherwise the merchants wouldn’t stick around.
Abraham was about to cross the road now that the merchants had moved on when he caught sight of a familiar looking man walking back in from outside of the gate. It was the thief he’d seen in the market, he was almost certain of it.
The young man was wearing a different outfit, now appearing more pedestrian than before, but the patch of beard on his chin gave him away. Abraham wasn’t wearing his armor now, having left it at home after his shift ended, and the thief didn’t recognize him as he headed off towards the curved street that wound its way up through the Eastern District and towards Tully’s Tavern.
Abraham followed behind casually, and watched as the thief walked leisurely along the other side of the road. Whenever no one else was near, the thief would open a satchel he was carrying and inspect the contents. Abraham was certain it contained his haul for the day, pel stolen from hapless marks throughout the Central Market.
They were nearing a residential area, where the streets were only wide enough for a person to walk and too small for a wagon. Abraham knew that if he didn’t act soon then the thief would have a variety of different places to sneak off to. Now that he’d gotten a chance to study the man closer, Abraham was certain it was the same thief from the market. He sped up, and the thief turned to see who was coming just as Abraham slapped his hand on the thin man’s shoulder.
“Hold up, thief,” said Abraham, confident and smug.
The thief twisted, causing Abraham’s grip to get caught within his tunic, and then suddenly the young man was running away, leaving the guard clutching only a slip of fabric that was designed expressly for tearing away. “Little bastard,” said Abraham in frustration as he threw the cloth aside and ran after the suspect.
He chased the young man up the narrow street, through a communal garden, and then back towards the center of town. Abraham knew these streets well, having spent his entire life here, and he could tell that the thief was in unfamiliar territory. This part of town was replete with dead-ends, and it was only a matter of time before the thief took a wrong turn.
The young man dropped the satchel he’d been examining earlier, and Abraham snatched it up as he followed behind. Then the inevitable happened, and the thief turned down one of the many dead-ends where the road ran straight up against the wall that circled the entire town, leaving nowhere for the thief to run.
Abraham rounded the corner, certain he was about to catch the young man, but there was no one down the short avenue. “What in the hell?” asked Abraham as he advanced slowly. It made no sense. Four story abodes sat on either side of the thin alley, with no doors in sight. This was one of many roads that had once been connected to a separate part of town before the wall had been built, unceremoniously splitting the neighborhood in two. There were no sewer grates here, and no doors on the homes facing this way. The thief had simply vanished.
Abraham could only think of one way the thief could’ve gone, and he looked up.
The pickpocket was stretched out above, arms and legs split wide to anchor himself in what appeared to be an almost impossible ascent. He was inching his way to the roof, but it was a long way up and he was just past halfway there.
“Get down here, you little shit,” said Abraham.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” said the young man as he continued to climb, jumping a couple inches and then stopping himself with his hands and feet again.
“I’m going to start throwing things if you don’t come down.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?” asked the thief.
“Yes, I do, and I’d like to get to them already,” said Abraham. “So come on down and we can be done with this.”
The thief sighed, and for a moment Abraham thought he’d do as he was told, but then the young man said, “I’m late to work. It�
��s chimney sweeping night.”
“Oh for the love of…” Abraham looked around for something to throw and found a fragment of a brick about palm size. “Last chance.”
“Give it your best shot, pel-poor.” The thief used a derogatory term meant to chastise First-Swords for their low pay.
Abraham grumbled that he wasn’t a pel-poor, and then threw the brick up at the thief, missing him by several feet. The thief laughed and looked down. “That the best you can do? This is going to be easy.” He inched up a bit more as Abraham went to get the brick again.
“That was a warning.”
“Oh, sure,” said the thief.
“All right, you asked for it.” Abraham threw the brick again, harder this time, and it smashed against the side of the home about a foot from the thief’s head. Plaster broke away from the home’s exterior, revealing the brick and mortar beneath.
The thief looked down at Abraham, annoyed and a little frazzled by how close the brick had come. None-the-less, he poked fun at the Sword. “You almost got me. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure it would’ve hurt. Do you want me to come down a little to make this fair for you?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind,” said Abraham, disgruntled as he again retrieved the brick. It was now a little smaller than it was before, part of it freshly broken away.
“All right, here I come,” said the thief before jumping up another couple of inches. “Oh darn it, I meant to come down, but I went the wrong way. Let me give it another try.” He jumped up a few inches, and this time he was able to grip the sill of a window for support, making the ascent a little easier for him. He looked down and smirked. “Take another shot, pal. I’m not going to wait around here forever.”
Abraham was about to try again, but then the window beside the thief opened and a little old lady peered out to see who was throwing stones in the alley. When the window opened, the bottom side scraped across the thief’s fingers, tearing at his knuckles and then pinning him there.
“Lady!” The thief screamed at the same time that the terrified woman noticed there was a man clinging to her fourth-story window. The two matched decibels, as the thief pled with her to close the window so that he could free his fingers and the woman yelled in shock.
“What are you doing?” asked the woman. “Thief! There’s a thief here! Danbry, come help. There’s a thief at the window. He’s come to murder me.”
Abraham guffawed, but was then forced to take the situation more seriously as the thief lost his grip and started to fall. The young man tried to stop himself, pressing his hands and feet out against the wall, but it didn’t help. Abraham did his best to catch the young man, but the fall caused them both to topple over and bash their heads on the ground. The thief’s satchel opened, spilling the contents out across the cobbled walkway.
It wasn’t pel that the thief had been greedily hoarding, but gears.
The satchel was filled with forbidden relics, a mess of hinges, springs, and gears. Abraham looked over at the wounded young thief in surprise, and the dazed man knew he was in the worst trouble of his life.