Dorvan straightened his doublet and continued onward, only halting after several strides. Dread crossed his features and he clutched his chest with a frantic hand. Chain links glinted from his neck, pressing a slender outline against the fake muslin jacket. Dorvan’s shoulders sagged in relief and Cyriana permitted herself a faint smile.
She chewed on her bottom lip and waited for Aelina to return via a convoluted path. Eventually the younger woman reappeared from the alley’s opposite entrance, whistling some tuneless melody.
“Mission done to your satisfaction?”
“And how,” Cyriana asserted. “Dorvan almost panicked when the implications from your touch dawned on him. Danced a nervous jig making sure he still held the key. A productive day all around.”
“You happen to notice where he stashes it?”
“On a chain looped round his neck.”
“I can’t pickpocket a necklace, Cy. You know that, right? I need to hear you say I won’t be told to purloin jewelry from a man’s throat.”
“I’m not a moron, thank you. We’ll conjure something cunning another day. This was reconnaissance.”
“What a reassuring pledge. Not that I want to question the amount of thought you’ve put into this, but do you know where to tread in Destiran’s estate? Even you can’t finagle more than a couple minutes worth of looting. I hope you’re not walking in blind.”
“Hardly. I bribed an unappreciated manservant in his employ. Northwest office on the second floor. I’m golden.”
“And if I somehow pinch the key with Dorvan none the wiser,” asked Aelina, “what makes you think he won’t notice it’s gone? Even an immaculate pull can’t guarantee he doesn’t check for his trinket regularly.”
“I’ll club him over the head and hogtie him an hour prior to our burglary if needed. Leave the sordid details to me. I only wanted to be certain I ambush the right fellow.”
“Happy to provide a valuable service. Here I thought when you roped a sleight of hand master into this that I might actually perform genuine sleight of hand work. Seemed a sensible conjecture.”
“You still may,” Cyriana replied. “Haven’t made up my mind one way or another yet. Besides, there’s something else I require from you. Pawns need to be recruited.”
“Why can’t you? You promised my role in this was supposed to be minimal. Fondling a repellant stranger is unpleasant enough. Now you have me scouring the streets for ne’er-do-wells.”
“This is your city more than mine. I’m only a guest. You know who the scoundrels are and where to obtain them.”
“You’re acting like I can stroll to the market and pick some off a shelf.”
“Don’t you?”
“Consider this my final contribution,” Aelina confirmed. “You ask me to do more and my fee wriggles to forty percent. No other freebies.”
“Introductions should be all that’s necessary from your end.”
“Plus whipping them into shape I assume.”
“Not if you find chaps who don’t need coddling. Ample motivation, I should think. Reach out to your contacts and I should have a rough shopping list for you by tonight.”
“And what will our glorious mastermind be doing while I scrounge through society’s dregs?”
“Pay a visit to Eloran. I want fancy parchment scribblings.”
Aelina scrunched her face into a sour mien. “I’d prefer the dregs.”
“And that’s why I asked you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a date with a curmudgeon.”
*
One entryway parted to reveal scowling eyes anathema to visitors. An irritable demeanour shifted to displeasure when he sighted Cyriana waiting in the hallway beyond.
“Hello Eloran. Mind if I come in?”
A hand streaked with freckles opened the door and beckoned inward. “At least you didn’t break into my home this time.”
“I’ve matured oodles since we last spoke.”
“I suppose you had no other direction to take but upward.” Eloran shuffled across floorboards and claimed a lone chair, not bothering to offer Cyriana accommodations or refreshments. “You’d best have generous compensation in mind for bothering me.”
“In exchange for your cooperation, I won’t punch you in the face as is my right.”
“Such praiseworthy magnanimity.”
“You owe me for the Chiridion job. I charmed your share of the spoils higher, you’ll recall. I can’t help the fact you blundered into difficulties afterward. That bout of idiocy is on you.”
“This is how you speak when asking for a favor?”
“Only with those who deserve the criticism. Trust me, I have a routine request compared to your more cheeky deeds.”
Eloran sighed and brushed errant vellum into haphazard stacks. “Once I’m finished here we’re even. I’ll no longer live indebted to you.”
“I don’t intend to do you more favors. We both win.”
“Name your task for me.”
“You’re known on occasion to flounce around with the rarified elite. Are you acquainted with Cinian and Darelia Caelius by chance?”
“Only by reputation. A prosperous merchant family originally from Talishir, yes?”
“Who traveled eastward into the Empire’s youngest province and expanded their fortunes tenfold. Those are the ones.”
“And what might this pair have done to earn your displeasure?”
Cyriana shrugged and leaned forward on his writing desk. “Nothing in the least. I covet their glamorous estate.”
“You’ve raised your ambitions since we last spoke, I see.”
“Only for one night. More to do with location than inhabitants. I’ve been conscripted into taking possession of an artifact owned by Destiran, who happens to be their closest neighbor.”
“Dare I waste breath explaining the stupidity of your gambit?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“If you insist. I presume you want me to deceive them into granting you entry to their manor? Or better yet, vacating it altogether?”
“Sharp as ever.” Cyriana retrieved a crinkled sheet from within the faded jerkin she wore and tossed it at Eloran. “Bribed a messenger for this beauty before it could reach Cinian or Darelia. A letter from business associates in Ercora. I want you to copy the script and sigil, inviting the Caelii to sail down the Honeywater and discuss a lucrative trading venture with their moneyed chums in person. Once they depart I’ll have a five- or six-day window to undertake my thievery before they discover the ruse and hightail it home.”
“Monotonous indeed,” Eloran affirmed. Eyes enclosed with deepening wrinkles studied the parchment beneath frizzy grey tufts decorating his scalp. “Nothing unique regarding the penmanship or tone. I can produce a consummate forgery by this evening.”
“Never doubted it. I’ll return to collect after dinner.”
“Oh, and Cyriana? Once this is finished I don’t wish to speak with you again.”
She paused at the door. “The feeling is mutual.”
*
“This is the best you could find?”
“Have some tact, Cy,” Aelina responded. “It’s bad form insulting folks to their faces.”
Cyriana eyed three felons standing in blemished clothes and casting apathetic gazes in her direction. “I don’t want mollycoddled whiners who can’t take criticism.”
“It isn’t criticism if you haven’t even learned their names. Then it’s nothing but stubbornness.”
“Fine.” Cyriana jabbed a forefinger downward at a scrawny lad barely reaching her shoulders. “You. Tell me your name.”
“Carin.”
“Ah, our eager balcony hopper. I should’ve figured, given your prodigious stature.”
He sought to straighten his posture and earn further height, though failed in the effort. “I’m the best there is.”
“I trust you’ve met all the others, compared notes and issued challenges?”
“Don’t know all the others.”
&nb
sp; “Then how can you claim to be more skilled than each one?”
“Don’t torture the poor lad,” Aelina remarked, eyeing the befuddled expression on Carin. “If he hasn’t killed himself yet then he’s apt to have talent.”
“I’m not keen on putting faith in children without a facial whisker to their name.”
“Finding a reliable climber beyond puberty is a tougher challenge. They get clumsy in their old age.”
“I’m fourteen,” Carin squeaked. “Not a child.”
“You’re almost twenty years my junior,” rebuked Cyriana. “Don’t ever claim to be experienced.” She walked past wearing a glower until she faced two dusky-skinned Shiylans. “And these ones?”
“Meet Ralir and Salir,” answered Aelina. “You’ll need to ask them for specifics, because I haven’t the foggiest which is which.”
The woman was a mirror image of the man, though wearing longer hair for variety. Even their muted clothing seemed interchangeable. “I’m Salir,” she responded. “Ralir is my brother.”
“Understand your role in our little heist?” Cyriana inquired.
“Distractions are a simple enough chore.”
“That’s the spirit. And you won’t sulk over the loss of a carriage and demand exorbitant compensation?”
“Can’t lose nothing if it ain’t yours.” The brother stared at her wearing a blank expression in an eerie facsimile of his sibling. “We’re stealing the nicest one we find untended.”
Cyriana glanced sideward at Aelina. “Okay, I like these two.”
“I know how to pick ‘em.”
“Are we getting paid today?” Carin questioned.
“Nope,” countered Cyriana. “Not how this works. You earn coins after helping me. Beforehand and you’re liable to run off.”
“Can we be sure you won’t do the same?” asked Salir.
“Guess you can’t.” She waggled a hand toward the entryway. “There’s the door for those who aren’t fond of our rules.”
Ralir and Salir looked to one another and presumably engaged in some freaky non-verbal, non-expressive dialogue. “We’ll stay,” Ralir announced.
When Carin showed no inclination to leave, Cyriana entwined her fingers and smiled. “Lovely. Time to lay down more ground rules then. You do what me and Aelina say. No deviations or improvising. Our word’s gospel, savvy? You go off book and not only do you risk getting yourself killed, you’ll also make us pissed. But the chief rule is don’t turn informant or gossip about our scheme in taverns. Unless you find yourself alone, there’s always someone close enough to listen. Sometimes even when you erroneously believe yourself to be alone. Those who run their mouths won’t be paid, and as an added bonus she’ll kill you.”
Aelina shrugged. “I’m not fond of turncoats. Whether it’s a conscious choice or if you’re just stupid and feel the need to brag about your exploits.”
“Any others?” queried Ralir.
“Nah,” Cyriana affirmed. “We don’t like rules.”
Chapter 3
With one outstretched leg crossed atop the other and hands resting behind her head, Cyriana watched Aelina enter through the stained entryway. The other woman made no effort to hide her disgust upon strolling into the decrepit bedchamber. Sunlight glared through broken shutters sprinkled with dried fluids, flaking paint revealed bare mudbrick and wood, scratched floorboards bore uncountable wounds alongside dark splotches.
“Fancy place you found for yourself,” Aelina muttered.
“My funds are admittedly limited. I couldn’t be choosy with regards to inns.”
“Next time let’s meet behind a fishmonger’s stall. The air is fresher.”
Cyriana swung her legs off the threadbare pallet and stood. “Aside from your justified quips, you’re looking uncharacteristically cheerful today.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? It wasn’t an idle threat when I said my fee gets upped to forty percent if you ask me to perform extra tasks. Thanks to your request I stand to earn even more coins.” An abashed expression appeared on her face, which she sought to cover behind an unconvincing smile. “And of course I want to help a friend.”
“I’m touched by your admission.”
Aelina placed elbows on a lone table and leaned forward. The furniture canted sharply beneath her weight, nearly pitching Aelina off balance. Wearing an irritated scowl, she straightened and brushed grit from her jacket.
“I mostly don’t use the table,” Cyriana helpfully explained. “It seems to be more ornamental than practical.”
“So, why am I here?”
“A second key. The pudgy fellow you groped only carries one of two keys required to unlock Destiran’s vault.”
“I hate when untrusting blokes diversify their security measures. Is this one carted by another repellent lieutenant?”
Cyriana nodded, swallowing ale from a tankard she left on the floor. “His name is Hardren. Slightly less repugnant by all accounts. In hindsight maybe he’s the one I should have requested you get touchy feely with.”
“You can’t whack both over the head and steal their keys. Not on the same night.”
“I don’t intend to. We’ll need to wax one key a couple days in advance. I’m thinking Dorvan gets the beating, and Hardren the waxing.”
“That’s what you want me for, isn’t it? To snag his key and take impressions for you.”
“I presumed you were suitable for the chore. Did I miscalculate?”
“Maylene would be a better fit,” Aelina affirmed.
“I already told you she’s being stubborn and wants nothing to do with this one. What about you?”
“Yeah, I can do it. Not as well, but passably enough. Though an extra ten percent is hardly worth the grief I’m likely to endure.”
Cyriana shrugged. “Those were your terms. Take it up with yourself if you’re feeling duped.”
“I’ll need more time than Maylene. She can wax two keys in seconds without a hiccup and then tickle the lock bare. You won’t get the same quality from me, even at my best.”
“You think I’ll need to grease the keyhole?”
“At least. And I’m telling you this right now before we commit. There’s a chance I’ll screw up the waxing and you’ll get an imperfect key. All the grease and filing in the world won’t unlock Destiran’s vault if that happens.”
“I have faith in your abilities.”
“Happy to hear one of us does. I wouldn’t, but that’s just me.”
Cyriana settled an empty clay mug on the floor. “Can you acquire the necessary materials this afternoon?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Sweeping loose bangs from her brow, Aelina flicked wary eyes toward Cyriana. “Let me guess, we’re pulling this off tonight.”
“Dawdling was never among my flaws.”
“Dawdling is a virtue when it’s called prudence.”
“Semantics. Whatever the name, I don’t have time for it.”
“Do you at least know where we’re supposed to look once inside the manor?”
“I’ve had the twins on surveillance for the last couple days. Hardren goes to a bathhouse on certain nights with an escort, leaving one guard behind to patrol the modest estate. Today happens to be one of those nights, provided they’ve adequately guessed his schedule.”
“And if the twins haven’t?”
“We hide in the bushes again tomorrow evening until he follows his pattern like a good little victim. The key is kept in a desk drawer in what passes for his library. I have my doubts the man can even read, so it’s probably all for show.”
“Lovely. Then nothing can possibly go wrong.”
*
Cyriana brushed a diaphanous curtain from her path and trod across burgundy carpet, hunkering against one couch in the glow of streaming moonlight. Aelina latched the balcony entry shut and scampered closer, her padded moccasins eliciting no noise. A cloth cowl dyed black hid her features except for wary eyes. Most people did not bother installing elaborate loc
ks on second story entrances, falsely presuming height was discouragement enough. Until an unanticipated robbery promoted more stern defenses, that is. Cyriana could always tell who had not yet suffered such a burglary.
“Should have an hour until Hardren returns from his jaunt to the bathhouse,” whispered Cyriana. “Let’s make it count.”
Despite knowing the lone guard was currently outside, she still had no idea how many serving staff Hardren employed. A smaller estate such as this might only have one or two temporary servants, or more depending on the severity of his laziness. Cyriana had no wish to blunder into one wandering the halls because she failed to be cautious. It took almost twenty minutes to descend a staircase and creep into Hardren’s library without alerting anyone who might be in residence tonight.
Closing the door behind her with a muted click, Cyriana approached broad windows and rounded an oak desk glowing in moonlight. “Second drawer from the top on the right hand side,” she whispered.
Aelina set to work on the small lock with a pick in each hand, careful not to leave any telltale scratches from her intrusion. The task was delicate, and her training limited, yet within a short while she slid the drawer open and removed a lone key concealed inside.
She crouched behind the desk, flattening an oilcloth satchel at her feet. Aelina unfastened one locket filled with pallid wax and placed the key atop, pressing iron into a stubborn substance. “Godsdamn this crap. The plate is too solid. I can’t make a useable impression.”
“Did you buy the wrong wax?”
“No, this is the proper stuff. I made certain. But it isn’t behaving the way I want.” She closed her eyes, uttering a longwinded groan. “Shit. I’m an idiot.” Aelina tugged the plate free and clamped her palms around it. “Maylene warms the wax before she starts. This is why you shouldn’t settle for a consolation specialist.”
“You figured it out faster than I would’ve.”
Aelina returned tepid wax to its locket and resumed creating an impression, reversing the key once to mold its opposite face. Satisfied with her cautious, languid handiwork, she clicked copper closed and opened another. Cyriana knew little about the art of waxing keys, though she did understand the practicality of producing a second copy should the first suffer damage. The entire process stretched into long minutes as she tapped anxious fingertips against one knee, feeling sweat prickle her nape beneath a fabric hood.
Starwatch Page 40