by Jeff Ayers
The laundry basket was stacked with servants’ uniforms. It took her several minutes to find one that fit. The owner must have been a very small woman indeed, because it was not nearly as loose as Skate was prepared for it to be, though the unexpected snugness was likely more a product of the blanket she had wrapped around her stomach than any particular daintiness of the uniform owner. She put her nice clothes in one of the bare cubbies. On her way out the door, she grabbed a mop and empty bucket to complete her disguise. She did not expect to pass anyone this late at night between this room and Gherun’s suite, but better to be prepared and not need it.
The servants’ stairs were an out-of-the way alternative to the central staircase of the building that let off at every floor, allowing the cleaners and couriers to slip in and out of the halls with as little disruption to the tenants and their guests as possible. It was also a very convenient route to go if you were otherwise interested in not being seen, especially late at night when even the servants were not bustling up and down the steps.
The building was asleep around her, all its occupants well tucked in for hours before her arrival; there was no one to mark her passage, and had there been such a person, they would have had no inkling of her existence.
The trip to the fourth floor was without incident. The wooden floorboards of the hallway stayed silent at her passing. There were only two suites on this floor, and one of them was uninhabited; it was that empty set of rooms that had first given Skate the idea of sneaking in and “expecting” a room made up for her.
She stood in front of Gherun’s closed door, carefully scanning the frame of the doorway for hidden traps, particularly those of a magical nature. She had not noticed any particular sign given by other servants as they entered the room, or by Gherun upon their entrance, but after the shrieking nightmare of an alarm that had greeted her at Ossertine’s home, she did not want to take any chances.
Her search revealed nothing, even as she slowly opened the door and looked for similar signs on the other side. So she slipped in, setting the mop and bucket down silently afterward. The door did not creak at all when she just as deliberately closed it behind her.
The dim light from the hall lamps winked out when the door shut, leaving her in a dark ameliorated only by lamplight reflected off of snow four stories below. I hope Rattle can see well in the dark. She stifled a mad urge to laugh when she realized it probably could, since seeing was all a giant eyeball could be expected to do well.
The creeping walk across the central room to the designated window was interminable. The only small consolation was that Gherun slept with his door closed.
Darkness shrouded the room, but with Gherun’s finicky refusal to have anything out of order and her own monitoring of the room from various nearby rooftops, her trip across was uneventful, albeit painfully slow.
The window swung open easily and noiselessly, and the ambient light of the room increased ever so slightly as the illumination from the lamps slunk its way in with the cold air.
Skate gazed into the snowy landscape. The slanted rooftops of the city were doing their job of deflecting snow to the ground, though not perfectly. The rooftops were edged in white, and the ground below was covered in the same. The orange lamp lights gave the illusion of warmth to the empty canvas the packed snow was providing. It was pretty. For a moment, Skate could see the appeal that some people found in looking at snow. The consideration lasted as long as it took an errant snowflake to poke her in the eye.
As she rubbed the offended spot, movement caught Skate’s good eye. Rattle was flapping its way toward her through the drifting flakes. The occasional breeze sent Rattle moving erratically every few moments, but it seemed comfortable enough despite the cold and difficulty. It was taking care not to let its legs touch one another as it moved. Slipping through the open window proved simple, though its wings were making a dangerous amount of noise in the otherwise dead silence.
Skate motioned for Rattle to land, which it did immediately with an almost imperceptible click. She cut her eyes to Gherun’s closed door, ears straining to hear any motion. The only sound that met her was Gherun’s soft snoring. She let a breath out that she had not realized she had been holding, then motioned toward the bookcases and slowly crept that way. Rattle followed her, its spidery legs spread out and taut. She had to look away from it; the movement was more than a little unsettling, especially considering Rattle’s size. It was like a spider’s movement, and the languorous motion of its legs made her feel like it was hunting her, or that she was caught in a web waiting to be devoured. She worked through an involuntary shudder as she reached the first bookcase.
Skate could recognize many of the letters but read none of the words yet. Many of the books were not even in the right script, or else were so stylized that they were indecipherable in the dim light. She needed Rattle.
The eyeball bat reached the bottom of the bookcase and began to move its body slowly across the row of books there. Finding nothing, it raised itself several inches and began the process anew, going the other direction for the next shelf. While it was busy searching, Skate withdrew her blanket from inside the blouse and laid it gently on the floor, making sure to spread it out as much as possible.
A single tap sounded behind her. Rattle had found a suitable book. Skate turned and reached for the indicated tome, careful not to allow for any scraping as it left its position, or any thudding as the other books fell to fill in the gap. It took half a minute to get the heavy book off the low shelf in this manner. Skate did not trust Rattle with this part of the plan; its legs were capable of intricate movements when needed, but practicing in Belamy’s library had shown it incapable of moving books quietly. The failure had taken much of the energy out of the bat-winged eyeball. “Don’t worry,” she had said; “I’ll teach you to do it before the next time.” The promise had seemed to cheer the eyeball up considerably. At the moment, Rattle was focused on finding the next book while Skate worked.
When the book was free, Skate laid it down softly on the old blanket in complete silence. She turned and waited for Rattle’s next choice. She wanted to get at least four books to cover the next two weeks of lodging and lessons. When Rattle tapped another book on the very next shelf up, her hopes grew. If it had been able to find another suitable book that quickly, they might be able to get out with more than planned for. She went through the same process of painstaking pilfering, taking another half-minute to remove the book from its place without a sound, and then placing it on top of the other book, beginning a stack. A third tap, and a third book. They had not even moved on to the next bookshelf yet, and had already found three of the four books they had come for.
It struck Skate as strange that Gherun had not set up any defenses for his precious library, seeing as it was the only thing besides tobacco that he seemed to enjoy. He must think being high up will keep him safe. It was true that random break-ins were easier at ground level, but heights did little to discourage targeted jobs like this one. A bit of planning was all it took for someone like Skate to figure out how to get in, take what they wanted, and get out.
She placed the third book in the stack. The weight of more than four might be too much. She tested the three they had already; she could lift them, but it was a more strained effort than she had expected. The books met the floor silently, thanks both to the soft blanket and to Skate’s care.
Can we do more than four? Four had been the plan, but Gherun had far more of a variety than they had expected. There would almost certainly not be another chance to take from the rich bachelor; when he woke to find his supposedly safe home short of several books, it was safe to assume he would pour a considerable amount of time, energy, and money into making sure such larceny never happened again. Having only one shot at such a wealth of books made taking more than planned a tempting proposition.
It was a temptation Skate could not resist. After Rattle picked out the fourth and would-be final book, she put it in its place and put a
hand out to stop her partner in crime from flying down to the street.
Barely breathing, Skate placed a hand on either side of Rattle’s bulbous body and brought it very close. It felt, to her surprise, as if it were made of glass; the wet shine of its body was not on its surface, but underneath. “How many can you carry in your claws?” Even in the absolute silence of the room, the words were all but inaudible.
Rattle spun its eye in her hands to look back at the bookshelf, then met her gaze and brought a leg up to tap on her shoulder. One. Two. A pause, another look back. Three.
The third tap had felt far less firm than the other two. She took that to mean two, maybe three. In that perfectly quiet way, she said, “Get two more.”
The eyeball bat looked from her to the stack and then back again several times. She also looked at the haul and realized its concern. That’s an old blanket. It may not be able to hold more than four. It certainly would not hold six heavy books from here to Belamy’s place, but would it hold for the few moments it would take to get the makeshift bag down to the street? We’re gonna find out. She nodded to Rattle to show she understood, then pointed back to the shelf to indicate she was good with the risk.
When she let it go, Rattle landed softly again, and began its slow creep to the second shelf. Within a few minutes it had made a fifth selection, and while Skate was getting that one off its place, it made the sixth. Worth the risk, she decided.
After both books were added to the taller-than-expected stack, Rattle crawled back to the window and perched on the ledge. Skate wrapped the blanket around the stack and tied it, making a passable bag out of the old cloth. There was not nearly as much room as she wanted to grab the bundle by, but that was the trade-off of taking more books.
Seeing the bag made and ready, Rattle jumped into the snowy night air. Besides a brief rush of air as it took off, the creature’s exit was as silent as could be hoped for. It would wait for Skate and the bag in the street below. Originally, it had been just going to go with Skate to help as her lookout, but with two more books in tow, it would now be helping to carry the load.
The load in question was considerably heavier than had been accounted for in their planning, which made the next part of the job much more difficult. The books had to be tossed out the window to land safely in the snow. “The snow and the blanket should protect the books well enough,” Belamy had said when Skate had explained her plan to him, “and I should be able to fix any damage that might occur anyway.” With the extra weight and lack of any meaningful way to get a sufficient grip on the blanket bag, it would end up being less of a throw and more of a shove out of the open window. But as long as the bag stayed tied on the way down, it would be fine.
Skate strained to get the bag up onto the ledge, which groaned under the weight of the books. The noise conjured rustling from Gherun’s bedroom. Swearing mentally, Skate gave a great push (or a push as great as her small frame would allow) and sent the tied bag tumbling over the edge. She closed the window with as much care as she could in her haste, and bolted back for the door. Her hand was on the handle when she heard another door open.
“What the devil are you doing?” Gherun’s low voice was groggy and angry. She assumed his expression matched how he sounded, but did not stop to check. His door slammed behind her on her way out of his neatly organized home. The scramble down the servants’ stairs was both undignified and noisy. There was no time to change into her first set of clothes. Can’t leave ’em, though. Even an idiot would be able to trace those things back to Belamy if they took the time. Seeing how much money was represented in a place like this, there was little doubt at least one idiot would, in fact, take the time, so the clothes had to leave.
Skate was passing the second-floor landing when she felt steps other than hers in the narrow corridor. She stopped and listened. They were not fast or coming from above. She cut back and turned out on the second floor, throwing her back to the wall to let whomever it was pass. The night manager’s unpleasantly whiny voice mumbled past her as he ascended.
She caught only small bits of his irritated muttering: “Bully…entitled…useless…” Gherun must have rung for a servant rather than chase her himself. Judging by his plodding speed, the night manager was unaware of the nature of the call. After he had gone a few steps past the landing, Skate jumped back down the stairs, taking them two or three at once to get to the servants’ dressing room.
The servants’ floor was as dark as she’d left it, but she knew where her destination was this time. That knowledge, combined with her rejection of stealth in favor of speed, made her trek in and out of the dressing room much faster than her previous visit. She threw the nice coat on and stuffed the boots and dress into the servants’ blouse that she was going to end up keeping, apparently. The gloves, she took a few seconds to don in order to gain some protection from the cold. Then it was back up the stairs, though mercifully only one flight. Her clothes were bulging weirdly in her uniform, and every step brought a toe of one of the boots digging into her ribs.
On her way up, she heard a fast rumbling from above. The night manager had apparently been apprised of the situation and was hastily making his way back to the ground floor; whether he meant to chase her down himself or only alert the nearest patrol, Skate neither knew nor cared. She had reached the ground floor ahead of him.
She shot out into the main common room and slammed the stairway door shut behind her. A heavy table sat nearby, which she heaved in front of the closed door. It wouldn’t stop anyone from getting through, but might slow them down. She brought her shoulder and arm down to bear the impact of pushing open the heavy front door.
The night outside was cold, snowy, and quiet. Skate knew about where the bag would be, and knew that she had only moments to get to the books before the area was swarming with Guards and servants out to stop her.
She rounded the corner of the impressive building, cringing as the snow filled in the low-resting servants’ shoes with each step. In the lamp-lit street, it was not hard to find the blue blanket-bag.
It had not split or spilled on its way down, and Skate would have shouted for joy if she’d had the breath and senselessness to attract attention to herself. Instead, she ran through the snow and, after getting as good a grip as she could, hefted the haul over her shoulder, stomping through the snow toward the alley where a familiar set of thin black spider’s legs hung half in shadow and flapping bat’s wings caught her ear.
Two feet into the shadows, Skate dropped the blue bag with a heavy thud; more snow caught by overhanging rooftops meant less cushion on the ground below. She quickly untied her makeshift bag and turned to Rattle.
“Get two of them, go as high as you can to stay out of sight, and get yourself back to Belamy. I’ll meet you there. Get in through the window to my room. Got it?”
The thing flapped in agitation and pointed a leg at itself and then to Skate.
“I’ll be fine. I’m from these streets, remember? I can get there safe enough. Go on!”
Skate hoisted the top two books in her arms for Rattle to gather more easily. This time, it accepted the load without any objection, though the wings began to flap with effort rather than anger or concern. Skate dropped back down and tied up her bag again, giving herself a much easier amount of empty bag to grab hold of. Rattle disappeared with surprising speed into the night sky.
A whiny, irritating male shout broke the silence of the night air: “Guards! Thief! Guards!” The night manager had evidently acquired a bell before getting outside, because a ringing clamor accompanied his panicked call. She heard another voice; the manager had brought out the servants’ entrance door guard to aid in his hollering. The shouting and ringing followed Skate while she made her escape, but got quieter and quieter the farther away she ran; the night manager had not given chase.
Exhilaration, giddiness, and fear mixed and shot through her as she snuck around corners and through narrow openings. The thrill of escape was always a heady sauce
, and being nearly caught only made the effect better and worse. Being terrified and alert and successful all at once made her legs pump with ease despite the cold, made her hearing sharp despite the blood rushing like a river behind her ears, made a tangled knot in her stomach even as she fought back fits of laughter. The wave of contradictory and intoxicating sensations was familiar, but never had they felt so intense. Is it because of the mark being so rich, or the worth of the goods, or something else? she wondered as she backed against a wall, having heard heavy steps moving quickly down the next street.
There was no time to consider it further; the patrol going past failed to notice her crouching form at their backs. It turned the next corner, running to the now very distant sound of ringing in the streets behind and leaving the young thief a clearer path to her destination. She crossed the open street and passed out of the Baron’s district, with its plentiful Guards all in a stew in wintery midnight.
The transition into the Old Town was not immediate; many buildings she skittered past were well-built and fairly new, sturdy architecture bought by deep purses with an eye toward beauty as well as functionality. However, such art became less pronounced and more haggard as she progressed, showing more signs of age, neglect, and wear the closer she got to Belamy’s home. The Old Town was, after all, old, so the gradual dilapidation was a handy way to determine how far away she was from the more ascendant denizens of the Baron’s district.
It was only when the notably old and rundown buildings mixed with the new and rundown buildings that Skate began to get a clearer sense of her exact location in the sprawl of this part of the city. Belamy’s home was in such a place, sticking out as a finely made statue might when tossed into a pile of rubbish. She soon found the home, an aged and refined edifice among the new and sloppily thrown-together cabins and shacks.