The Thief of Dunmire and the Tear of Astra (The League of Sinister Means Book 1)

by H. K. MacTavish

  “We need to talk,” Blaise says.

  “Give me ten minutes,” Bridget demands.

  “It’s important,” Blaise says.

  “No it’s not!” Bridget yells.

  “I’m serious,” Blaise says.

  She looks as angry as I am. I toss the ribbon back on the bed and turn around, ready to resume my helpful servant stance.

  Bridget opens the door and Blaise steps in.

  “I…oh,” Blaise says.

  “I was, just leaving highness,” I say, looking sorry at Bridget.

  “This had better be important,” Bridget snaps.

  She looks really, really upset.

  “It is,” Blaise says as I walk out of the room. “I just bumped into Veronica…” I hear Blaise begin as he closes the door once I have left. My god, this is becoming unbearable. All I can think about is Bridget. Maybe I really should just kidnap her. We’d have a few minutes to ourselves before I’m tossed in the dungeon. Stop being so melodramatic Mary. You’re here to work, remember?

  I turn and start to head down to the stairs to find Veronica when I feel a tug on my sleeve.

  “There you are,” Jennifer says.

  “Jennifer,” I say. Is she following me?

  “I thought you’d be here,” Jennifer says. “Come on. The king is nearly here.”

  “The prince and princess should be told…” I say, pointing to the door.

  “A guard will notify them. Come on,” Jennifer says. She takes me by the arm and we descend to the first floor. Already a crowd is gathering. Everyone is here, noble, hero, and servant.

  “We have some time,” Jennifer says looking around.

  “Are you looking for Lady Winters?”

  “Lady Winters? Yes,” Jennifer says.

  She is an awful liar.

  “I saw her upstairs earlier,” I say. No point in calling her a liar.

  “You there!” I hear Veronica bellow.

  “Ah,” I say. “My lady.”

  “I thought I told you to come and find me when you were done,” Veronica asks me.

  “She was,” Jennifer says before I can say anything more. “I was helping her look for you.”

  “Oh. Well. Good. Come with me. I have a job for you,” Veronica says.

  “Good luck,” Jennifer whispers to me as I depart.

  Mucking About

  I am led down the hall away from the king’s arrival. Veronica pushes her way past the servants, clearing a path that I can follow. I am hustling after her. How is she maintaining this speed in those heels? I wonder how expensive her shoes are. I know how sexy I would look in them. Maybe Bridget would like a pair. Maybe she already owns a pair. I bet she looks sexy as hell in them…

  “Well?” Veronica asks.

  Shit! What did she ask? She’s looking at me. She thinks I’m guilty. Hell, I think I’m guilty and I haven’t done anything yet, technically. Think Mary. Give some vague response.

  “I am just here to work, my lady,” I say as subservient as I can manage. She is still looking at me. Shit. That was the wrong response for whatever she asked.

  “You are certainly trying hard to fit in here,” Veronica says.

  “It’s just…I want to do a good job. Everyone here is such a hard worker, I’m worried I’ll lag behind them if I don’t push myself,” I say. Yes, being a servant is totally my life. I love serving heroes. Believe me Veronica.

  “You did such a fine job cleaning out the vault,” Veronica says as we make our way upstairs. All us servants must look alike to her I bet.

  “Thank you,” I say. I’d rather be daydreaming about Bridget. Where are we even going now?

  “I expected you to miss a spot,” she says as we reach the second floor.

  She can’t just give a compliment, can she?

  “I am ready to aid in however I can,” I say. I need to be the servant in her eyes. I can’t give her any reason to think that I am a thief.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Veronica says with a smile.

  That is not a happy, friendly smile. It’s a, I’m going to screw you smile. What does she have planned?

  We turn down a corner and I sense that we are going to her room. Why would she want me to go to her room? What does she want me to do?

  She opens the door and summons a servant. He comes out holding…a chamber pot? Veronica’s chamber pot? Oh, hell no.

  “Give it to her,” Veronica says.

  The servant, heavily perfumed and dressed in a purple and yellow tunic, hands the chamber pot to me. I can smell it as I hold it. My god Veronica, what have you been eating?

  “I want you to go and scrub that out. Then come and find me again once it has been cleaned. Thoroughly,” Veronica says.

  If I just dump this pot over her head, what’s the downside? I mean, the upside is I want to. And I will enjoy it. Immensely. But I’ll be in the dungeons and the Tear of Astra won’t be mine. And neither will Bridget.

  “I will see it done,” I say. She just smiles at me. God, she is haughty. I turn around before my fake smile and enthusiasm cracks. Or I dump this pot on her head.

  I walk down the hall, to the stairs, to the basement, to a back corner where a little water runs down a pit that probably leads down to the dungeon or maybe past it. All the while I’m trying to clear my mind. This isn’t beneath you Mary. Just, suck it up and clean the chamber pot. Veronica will get hers one day. Just…just think of the prize: The Tear of Astra.

  I’m not the only one to come here to clean chamber pots. There are some chamber pots in the corner of the room and a few more lining the walls. They all look cracked and covered in…stuff. I dump the pot over into the pit and hear the contents all plop out.

  I shake it, carefully, so that nothing splatters on me. I see a sponge on a stick that is brown and start to scrub. God, this sucks. And smells.

  Hmppff.

  I almost threw up there. Keep going Mary. You don’t have a lot more to go. Chamber pots don’t have to be perfectly cleaned out. Just mostly cleaned.

  Fifteen minutes later and the chamber pot is clean enough. I manage to not puke and set the sponge aside and walk out, past the kitchen, to the second floor.

  I knock on the door and Veronica opens the door herself.

  “There you are. It took you long enough. The results had better be worth it,” she says, examining the chamber pot with her eyes. “It’s good enough, I guess.”

  She turns to a servant, the same from before, and he takes the pot and disappears back into the room. Veronica steps out and closes the door behind her.

  “Good. Now, come with me,” Veronica says. She leads me down the hall, down to the first floor, through a door I haven’t been through yet that’s guarded.

  We keep going until she stops near a slender door. It’s a postern door. It is hidden away from the outside, almost like a secret entrance. Well, the dungeons are out.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask. She’s kicking me out of the keep. She has to be.

  “Out of this door you are to take a left. Follow the wall, past the guards, and to the stables. There you will aid the stable boys in cleaning the manure up and tending to the horses.”

  “Cleaning the manure?” I ask.

  “Why? Is that beneath you?” Veronica asks.

  Yes, it is actually. But so was the chamber pot. Maybe I can convince her that I’m an inside servant, not a stable boy, er, girl.

  “I’m just used to cleaning sheets and running errands. I don’t know anything about cleaning up a stable.”

  “Well, you’re about to learn, aren’t you? You are a servant here. You will do what your betters tell you to do, what I tell you to do, and you will do it. No matter what. Is that understood?”

  “Of course,” I say.

  “Not so enthusiastic now, are you?” Veronica says. “What? Is that a little bit of ire I see in your eyes? The little girl thinks highly of herself, don’t you? Too bad there is little you can do about it.”

  Wh
o is enthusiastic about cleaning up shit? What is her end game? Does…does she want me to fight back to get kicked out of the keep? I want to punch her in her face so bad.

  “I said that I will do whatever it is that you require. I meant it,” I say. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

  “We’ll see about that, won’t we,” she says. I pause, waiting for more instructions. “Well?” she snips.

  “Of course my lady,” I say. I open the postern door, step out and turn around to see her wicked smile. Is she a sadist? Maybe that’s it.

  The door closes and I turn to the left following my way around to the stables. Is she on to me? Maybe she still suspects me. Why would she suspect me? I haven’t done anything wrong. Yet. That storage room is so close to her room. Perhaps she found that rope and my dwarven bar bender.

  No matter. If she knew I was the Thief of Dunmire I would be in the dungeon alongside that woman that they caught earlier today. Or worse.

  Maybe I’ve done something else to piss her off. Maybe she just likes seeing servants around her squirm. Not very heroic of her. No. There has to be some other reason.

  Another test.

  This endeavor is going to be a challenge after all. So, Bernice told the heroes that they should be looking for a woman and Jennifer is working for the heroes and she said that the woman that was caught had to be a petty thief, which I am sure that she heard from the heroes. So the heroes are pushing other women to see who can do what; or to keep us too busy to actually steal the Tear of Astra.

  I can see the stables. They are large, holding at least fifty horses from what I can see but capable of holding another fifty. The inner curtain curves outward considerably from the keep here to accommodate the stables. I always thought that it was a waste to put stables inside the inner curtain, but knights must have their horses I suppose. They must all look dashing in a sally, riding atop their steeds in their shiny armor.

  Aha! There, among the stable boys, is another serving girl from the keep. I was right. This must be another test. The ends of her skirt are covered in muck and she appears unhappy with her new job, raking up the muck and shit. The stable boys are paying her more attention than they are to their work. Oh, happy days. Leering male adolescents. Joy.

  I hear them whispering, pointing as if I won’t notice it. Look, another girl! I suppose, at that age, the opposite sex is a mystery to be unraveled. My sister wouldn’t stop talking about boys. It was like a wonderland. We each take the parts we were born with for granted, I suppose. Not me, obviously. But most people do.

  “Hi there honey,” a stable boy calls out as I approach. I ignore him and walk over to the woman.

  “Hi. I was told to come here and help clean out the stables,” I say. She’s attractive, a few years younger than I am. The boys behind me are all still embattled against the forces of puberty.

  I can hear a crowd forming from around the corner of the keep. The king is arriving soon and I’m going to miss it. Ah well, I couldn’t do anything other than gawk if I were there.

  “You’ll have to get a rake from them,” the woman says. I turn and see the smiling stable boys. Don’t they have any work to do? Lazy bastards.

  I walk over to them, smiling. I see a rake resting near one of the boys. He steps between me and the rake.

  “If you want the rake you have to pay for it,” he says.

  Oh, hell no.

  “Listen pimple. I’m here because I was told to clean this up,” I say.

  “Then use your hands,” he says. He laughs with the other boys. I turn to the woman and she just stands there, watching.

  “Let her have the rake,” the woman calls out.

  “Sure! But first, a kiss,” another boy says. I turn back with a scowl on my face.

  That wasn’t what I thought they were aiming for, but still, no.

  “Tell you what. I won’t hurt you if you hand me that rake now,” I say.

  The boy steps towards me with the others. There are five in all. I look down and see about seven other boys all doing work. So, these bullies have been the dominant group in this manure filled hole. Normally I would commend them for carving out a piece of the world for themselves. However, since they are imposing their will on me, they are going to be sorely displeased.

  “You’re…you’re going to get into trouble. Let her have the rake,” the woman says. She seems upset. I bet Blaise would tan the hides of these poor boys if he knew what they were doing.

  “Maybe we should ask for more than a kiss,” one of the boys says. “Maybe we should have a look up her skirt.

  “Oh? You want a look up my skirt?” I ask. The boy isn’t sure if I’m serious or not.

  As he starts to nod I turn my hips over as I spin and I kick him in the head. He falls to the ground as the others just stand there. I rush forward and kick the closest one in the chest and he flies backwards.

  Two come at me now, yelling at me with some heroic battle cry. You’re not heroes, don’t make me laugh.

  I punch one in the nose and grab the collar of the other one and pull his face into a wooden beam. The one I kicked in the chest is starting to get up. I grab the rake, spin it around and smack in upside the head. He’s out cold.

  The two with bloody noses start to cry and run off while the one with either the biggest brain or the smallest heart, I’m not sure which, just turns and runs without me needing to hurt him. I take the rake and walk back to the woman.

  “That was amazing,” she says. She seems pleased with my display but her attitude seems forced, fake somehow.

  Shit. That was amazing, wasn’t it? Did I just fail the test? I can’t be the only serving girl here who can fight.

  “Oh that? That was just demonstrating who’s in charge,” I say. “I’m not giving sexual favors for a rake. I doubt they’ll be trying that shit again soon.” Make yourself the victim if she is working for the heroes. She heard the boys. Hell, I heard her try to stop the boys.

  “Thank you,” she says to me.

  I didn’t do it for you. I did it so I didn’t have to do whatever it was that you did to get that rake, if in fact you did anything to get it.

  What’s done is done. It’s time to rake up the loose straw and start cleaning out the manure. I see that the boys have all run off to the keep. I can’t imagine a group of boys crying that a single girl beat them up. Maybe the heroes won’t hear of my fighting prowess. I turn to the woman working beside me and wonder if she’ll tell them.

  Listen to me. I’m paranoid. Everyone isn’t a spy out to see if you’re the Thief of Dunmire. Look. Just go to the edge of the roof of the stable and look up at the keep. No one will be there. Go on Mary.

  I step to the edge of the stables, taking my time sweeping out some of the loose straw, and I look up briefly and, from one of the windows I see that ridiculously made up face looking down on me.

  Well, shit.

  I don’t linger. I head back under the roof of the stables so that Veronica can’t see me. I’m not going to give her any kind of satisfaction.

  I can hear the horns trumpeting as the king’s carriages ride through the gates of the town. Even from back here, beyond the inner curtain, I can hear cheers rise up. Yes, cheer a man who happened to be sired by a king and queen. The king, the prince, even Veronica, they were all given what they have. I earn what I have.

  I’m disappointed in that I’m going to be missing the king’s parade. My helper doesn’t appear to even notice. She seems to be paying attention to what I’m doing from a distance.

  The boys don’t return. That’s not good. Were…were they here to attack me? That seems less like a hero’s plan and more like something a villain, like myself, would come up with. Maybe Veronica isn’t a hero. Maybe she’s as much a villain as I am. Or, I just outed myself with my fighting prowess. It was a test that, if I failed, I get to rake up shit. If I win, I get a beat down from some boys.

  No. Veronica is a hero and just wanted to have you clean up
shit Mary. That’s it. The boys were their own force of power here.

  “That was amazing, how you fought those boys,” the woman says to me as we both rest after finishing our jobs. Most of the work was already done by the time I got here, it seems. It didn’t take the two of us long to finish. I can see the royal carriage sitting off to the side. Luggage is being taken off but the horses will be here soon.

  “I had to learn that out on the roads. There’s more out there than teenage boys wanting a kiss,” I say. I hope she buys that story.

  “I wish I could fight like that,” she says. Now that I’m closer to her I can see that she is wearing some gloves to protect her hands. She’s not used to this kind of work. Wait a minute. I didn’t get gloves like that! Is she a hero working undercover? Nah. A hero should have hands for working. Right? Well, not Veronica. Or Bridget. Bridget has the softest, most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen. I should ask her what color…

  “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay,” she says.

  Pay attention Mary! What did she ask?

  “Pardon?”

  “I was just wondering where you learned to fight like that,” she says.

  “Oh. Here and there,” I say. “Why?”

  “No reason,” she says.

  “So, what did you have to do to get that rake?” I ask. She looks at the rake and pauses. She’s trying to come up with an answer.

  “I…I don’t want to talk about it,” she says confidently. It’s a good answer. And obviously fake. The heroes should test who can lie well and who can’t before sending them off to spy on a thief. If she is a hero I can try and get some information from her.

  “The heroes all seem, on edge.”

  “I haven’t noticed it,” she says.

  “I’ve seen Lady Veronica having hushed conversations with a couple of other important looking men. And, Princess Melinda hasn’t arrived on time,” I say, trying to make myself sound as much like a gossipmonger as I can.

  “You think something happened to the princess?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say. She looks at me, weighing my character and my words carefully.

  “I’m sure she is all right,” she says.