The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  The room downstairs was almost empty, most of last night’s previous inhabitants already up and probably wandering the streets or on their way to the next town. A trio of people who had shown up right when Derk had left for the evening were still asleep, probably weary from hard travels. It had been obvious from their appearance they had ridden hard. Derk went to the wicker boxes the Church provided to hold belongings and pulled out his pack and bedroll before he looked at the trio once more, finding a corner to set up his sleeping space. He unfolded a mat provided by the church and put his pack where he could lay his head. His boots found their way to the foot, his pants folded and placed atop them. Sitting on the makeshift bed, he pulled his shirt off, knowing in the basement of the church he could sleep soundly

  As soon as he laid his head down the thoughts came flooding in. The heist. The door. The store. His tools. The store owner. He was supposed to be at the fight that night, another reason Derk wanted to have it done within a certain amount of time so he could make an appearance toward the end. Getting in at the end would be hard but doable. He’d have to pay to get in. The trapdoor where the special dyes were kept. Derk knew where it was because he had sent Jezlen in to trade. One look at Jezlen and the shop owner suspected nothing when the Forester entered, claiming he had something rare to trade. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Jezlen did know how to prepare and transport plenty of things in such a way their effects would be maximized. It had more to do with the fact his mother was a healer than it did with Jezlen being an elf. His mother being a healer meant the Forester knew the best things to put in his pipe or soak in alcohol.

  The effects of the herbs Jezlen had given him to smoke earlier were kicking in a bit more, slowing down the once racing thoughts. The trap door. He would climb in through a window since the back door was locked from the inside with a padlock and the front door was on the main street. A lamp was lit on the street corner, and putting it out would draw more attention than breaking in through the front door. There was a lock on the trapdoor leading to where the special dyes were kept. Just powders. He would pick up a bottle of fixing powder as well. And then he’d go to the fight. And then he would pick up Hock’s money. Head South to Bluemist to meet Hock and wait for Jezlen.

  Derk anticipated succeeding. Hock had hinted if he did this, there could be others in Bluemist waiting to congratulate him. If this was the step Derk had to take to get into the Cup, he would ride to Sindra and ask her to marry him again. But first, the window, the lock, the trapdoor.

  In his thoughts when he opened the trapdoor there wasn’t anything there but the card he had pulled from Shamsee. The New Moon Card. The empty card. He hated fortune telling. Something about the card made him not want to touch it but it was where he needed to go. Without bending over it was in his hand, the thick paper between his fingertips. The gaping emptiness of the black moon in a black sky, offering nothing. Something beyond the card moved. When he looked, Sindra was there, smiling. There were tears in her eyes, making her normally dark grey eyes look like metal, sharp and cold. Before he could say anything, he was in her arms and her mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. He couldn’t speak or say anything, just succumbed to her hot skin and warm body, the walls of the shop falling away so they were left in darkness, naked.

  Derk woke with a start, finding himself in the temple and feeling disoriented. His dream had felt so real but the time spent so short. His heart still rattled in his chest and his skin was damp and hot. Derk cursed Jezlen under his breath, turning over on his bedroll. Waking up dressed, in the church, alone…Derk took a breath, breathing in and out slowly, feeling air fill his lungs, his belly, pouring into his arms and legs. The sound of people talking quietly registered at the edge of his mind and he slowly sat up on the bedroll, letting the blankets pile in his lap.

  Two priestesses were quietly cleaning the room. The trio was gone and in their place a mother and a child sat against a wall. The child played quietly with dolls made of scraps of fabric. The mother didn’t seem to notice. The woman stared off into space, mouth slightly open. Derk noticed her arm was in a sling, the hand bandaged. A reddish spot on the off-white the dressing hinted it would need to be changed soon. Derk took one last deep breath, fully in the room, in the Valley, his dream pushed away.

  Reaching over, he grabbed his shirt, pulling it on over his head before he stood up, dressing quickly. There wasn’t a mirror in the room so he looked to the little girl, noticing she was staring at him. He held his hands out to the side and smiled warmly at her. “How do I look?” he asked. The little girl’s eyes went wide and she buried her face in her mother’s side. But he saw one blue eye peek out and the corner of the girl’s mouth curl in a smile. Derk stowed his pack in the wicker box and tapped one of the Sisters on the shoulder. “Sister, I think you should see to that woman,” he said, indicating the mother with a nod of his head. “Her hand needs to be tended to, I think.”

  “Thank you,” the priestesses said. Derk gave one last look to the little girl and the woman before he went upstairs. He was sure to get the new token for the night from the priestess at the top of the stairs, turning to enter the temple for a blessing before he headed out.

  The temple was full of people who came for prayer before evening meal, sitting in the pews. Derk slid into an empty row and pulled his bracelet off, finding the white bead through feel more than sight. He put his hands over his chest and bowed his head. A priest was at the altar, playing a small harp and singing “Light of Revelation.” Not really what Derk wanted.

  He rolled the knots between his fingers, reciting the Titles, the Attributes, the Loves and the Mercies. At the beginning of each list he felt each stone bead, felt their polish, the unseen nicks in their surfaces. And when he came to the end, he felt the Goddess Bead. He had replaced it with a bigger one, a finer one. Derk held it in his hand, holding the image of the Goddess in his mind as he made his prayer.

  “Blessed Goddess, Holy Mother, put your light in my eyes. Guide my hand with your own. Hide me in my work and grant me success in my endeavor. Show me the way through the dark. May your Black Hand guide me and those I love.” He kissed the Goddess Bead and slipped the bracelet back on before he slid out of the seat, dipping his fingers into the bowl of holy water set up in the vestibule, anointing his head and heart before he stepped out onto the street.

  CHAPTER 19

  Stealing Away

  Derk wasn’t hungry but he would grab something to eat and drink while the sun went down. He’d go by the Two Fisted and get seen around there before ducking to the dyer’s store and make his score. Then back to the Two Fisted to get Hock’s money if there was any to be had, and then maybe a game of cards. The Happy Owl was supposed to have good singers. He should celebrate a bit by himself before the congratulations from Hock and Drink came rolling in. A smile curled up his mouth as the thought solidified in his brain.

  He stopped at a food stall and sat at the small table set up beside it, trying not to get grease on his face or clothes. Bread fried in bacon grease with onions. It was a bit too rich for his taste so he left the last few bites for whatever man or beast cared for the rest, deciding he would get a beer at the Two Fisted before he went to the dyers.

  The streets were full of people heading home for their suppers but Derk felt alone. Alone in his purpose. He missed his friends, the few he had. He missed Sindra. He even missed Jezlen. Maybe he’d take Jezlen to meet Gam sooner rather than later. Jezlen never seemed interested when he mentioned it, and Old Gam always seemed apprehensive about meeting him after Derk relayed stories. Jezlen was a…reliable person. Derk could rely on him. The Forester had a peculiar sense of humor and strange tastes but Derk appreciated the change in pace from the average Valleyman.

  The Two Fisted was busier than Derk thought it would be and he quickly ordered a beer, the barkeep narrowing his eyes, and then nodding as he recognized him. Derk raised his glass and smiled, feeling his tools pinch and press against the skin of his arm. “I never did come by
for lunch,” Derk said.

  “Maybe some other time, Lurk,” the keep said. “They’ve got some in the back if you wanted to try it.”

  “I’ll probably do that,” Derk said, taking another sip of his drink. Someone else called the tender over and Derk took the opportunity to finish his beer and walk out the door, presumably to the fight. He guessed there was a staircase in the kitchen leading to the basement. For now, he would go down the street for three blocks, a left, then another left to the store. After it was done he would come back. Usually there would be a few matches so he wouldn’t miss the main event if he was quick.

  Derk felt his heart race as he walked casually through the streets, ignoring the other people, ignoring the lamps being lit on the corners. He could smell the oil burning but kept his eyes on the dark corners of the street, trying to make out what was in the shadows. The nasal invitation of a woman with bells at her bosom drew a shake of his head so as not to seem out of place, but he pushed her and the rest of those on the streets away from him, ignoring them as he walked. Solitude pushed against him and he recalled the tools under his shirt sleeve and the dagger laying against his skin, warm.

  The dyer’s lay ahead, the lamplight illuminating the street but still he kept his eyes averted from the bright lights. It was called ‘Red Rabbit,’ a red rabbit fur hanging down from the name board. Beside it was a fiber store specializing in thread for embroidery. He knew more about embroidery than he cared to, thanks to Gam. Gam would like a bit of dye. Derk wasn’t doing this just for himself, or even just for the recognition from the Cup. He would get something for Gam, and once he sold everything, something for Sindra. For all her dislike of his stealing, the priestess did like beautiful things.

  These stores closed earlier than the others since most people did their daily shopping before evening meal, so the streets were emptier. The residences in this part of the town numbered less and were nice, with some shop owners living above their establishments. The embroidery shop owner lived above her shop, but the dyer didn’t. The space above the store was used to dry and prepare some of the rawer materials they received. The money was probably kept there as well.

  Derk walked behind the building, looking around and listening for voices or animals. It was quiet and empty and dark, the lamplight having no effect back here. Derk stared up at the side of the building, looking around once more before he walked over, putting his weight on a crate to test it before climbing up onto it. He pulled his knife out, feeling his shirt pull out of his pants. He listened for a breath and then wedged his knife in the space between where the windows were latched closed. The hook lifted after a quick flick of his wrist, freeing the two sides from each other. The windows swung outward so he pulled them toward him, stowing his dagger in the back of his pants before he placed both arms in the window, trying to swing himself in without waving his legs around too much or losing his bearings. Below the window the floor seemed low and there was a table littered with plenty of things which could fall and break if he wasn’t careful.

  He fell back onto the crate, careful not to make too much noise and listening again for another soul. A cat mewed off in the distance but Derk heard nothing else. Leaping up, he caught the ledge above the window where it had been set into the wall, getting a foot on the bottom of the sill and quickly maneuvering hand and weight so that he was perched in the window, like a dark bird with a yellow crown. He peered down at the table and slid down onto it from the window, testing its sturdiness before he put his entire weight on it, turning and closing the windows behind him.

  The lamplight from outside poured through small windows close to the ceiling but the backroom was dark. He saw the staircase leading up to the airing room. Derk hopped down onto the stone floor, looking around at what was in the backroom out of habit more than out of interest. Packages of herbs and substances were stacked on another table, unlabeled, herbal and animalistic scents faint in the air.

  He slid the lock picks from where they were strapped around his bicep, crouching down. A lock had been built into the floor and he saw the outline of the door, the metal ring used to pull it up. The floor creaked. Derk wondered why they just didn’t keep the pricier dyes upstairs. He yawned as he eased two picks into the keyhole. He felt almost disappointed as it clicked open easily, yielding to his gentle prodding. A grin crossed his face as he replaced the tools and opened the safe in the floor.

  A few off-white packets were stacked in the hole in the ground. If everything was pulled out, the edge would have gone a bit past his ankles, if that. Derk picked them up and noticed words written on the packets, wondering what they said. Pulling a few out, he ventured into the front room, knowing the shuttered street level windows kept him from detection.

  “Dried bog snake venom. Rockcrawl blossom, dried under the 3rd full moon. Marrowroot seed, grated.” No need to be picky. Derk tucked all of them away. He then looked behind the counter for a glass of fixer. It would make the colors brighter, though it itself didn’t lend any color to garments. He could cut the first three with more common and easily acquired items to make a good product at a good cost. It was stolen, so it was all profit but he could make more if he ‘had’ more. Gam would get the unadulterated stuff though, he would be sure of it.

  A glint of metal caught Derk’s eye. He crept over and investigated, almost groaning out loud when he saw what it was. A key, probably for the trapdoor. Derk sighed. If he ever had a store it would be the least easy thing to break into, he told himself, pulling the key off the nail and going to close it. Before he could do it, he thought of the envelopes in the backroom, going back to retrieve several to carry out the newest part of his plan.

  Derk set the key on the table and lifted their folds, bringing the envelopes to his nose. He opened the ones he had taken, already labeled. If it was brighter back here he could be clever and just take unlabeled stock. But the pen was right there…carefully he wrote the labels from the three stolen envelopes onto three of the ones from the backroom. After blowing on them to dry the ink he set them in the safe and closed it. His handwriting was nicer than whoever labeled the envelopes. He locked the safe before returning the key to the nail, pulling the bag he had tucked into his belt and stowing the fixer and three packets in there, securing it to himself. Now the number of envelopes in the safe matched what was there before. The man who ran the store might be more likely to think it was a mix up between his workers than a theft if things were mislabeled. Why not confuse them a bit?

  Now to get out. The table under the window was not very stable. It moved when he put his weight to one side or the other, risking knocking things off. Even if he could steady it, he might kick something off which wasn’t his goal. And when he got up into the window there would be getting down. He would have to get out quickly and quietly.

  The front room had a side window with a heavier latch, but the alley it opened into was dark. And he wouldn’t have to jump down from anything. Derk walked into the front room, opening the shutters and peering out into the street, listening. He then quickly opened the window and stepped over the sill, careful not to catch his pants on the apron. He then quickly reached in and pulled the shutters closed, his fingers wedged into the slats to fix them in place. The window panels were next, and he took the extra step of wiggling his fingers in and latching the hook so it would look as if no one had opened them.

  Derk inhaled through his nose and blew out through his mouth, the Goddess Bead warm against his wrist. He brought the bracelet up and kissed the image, exiting the alley quickly but cautiously. If anyone saw him sneaking out it could raise suspicion but he wanted to get away as quickly as he could. A few street cleaners were out picking up debris, putting it into barrels. They didn’t seem to notice him so he walked down the street, back the way he came, his heart racing not with anticipation but excitement. He imagined the praise from Hock. Drink’s smirk of approval. Old Gam’s underhanded admiration. Jezlen’s indifference. And Sindra. How did she fit in? He wanted her. What wa
s she to him? Next time he saw her he would get it sorted. Once he was in the Cup.

  The streets grew busier the closer he got to the Two Fisted, the music he heard in the distance growing closer. Derk didn’t bother going into the front door but swung around to the back, making sure the dyes and fixer were secured. The back window was open, a bald man with a huge cleaver hacking at a bird carcass. “I heard you had some of midday meal still? Custard and greens?”

  “You’re a bit late,” the big man said. The man’s arms suggested he did a bit more than hack at dead animals and he was missing a few teeth on the bottom. Derk fought the urge to take a step back and leaned over the back door.

  “I’ve got money to pay,” he said. The cook smiled and walked over, opening the door and letting him in. Behind the pantry was a staircase, the sound of shouts and cheers coming through the hole. The big man looked Derk over, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “I think someone is down there looking for you,” the big man said. “Forester type. You know a Forester?”

  Derk’s brows furrowed. Jezlen? He wasn’t supposed to meet Jezlen till the next town. “I know of one,” Derk lied, just in case. “What’s he look like?”