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

by H. K. MacTavish

  “I hope so,” I say. “So…you aren’t mad at being put out here in the stables?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “Well, work is work, but I do prefer working inside if I’m being honest,” I say.

  I can see a guard coming this way. Our conversation is at an end it seems. He walks up to both of us.

  “You two,” he says to us. “Come with me.”

  “Okay,” I say, as a subordinate should. The other woman says nothing to me.

  “It seems you two have been assigned to the wrong duty,” the guard says. “Your clothes. They’ll have to be cleaned.”

  Shit! My heart stops beating for a moment. I have supplies on me, squirreled away in pockets in my underclothes. Think. Think.

  “That’s all right,” I say. “We can clean them later.”

  “The king has arrived and servants of the keep are not going to be smelling of manure. Don’t worry, you’ll have your privacy,” the guard says.

  Privacy wasn’t what I was worried about. Okay. I have nothing on my dress. It’s all of my underclothes that have the pockets for vials and pouches for odds and ends and of course there are my lock picks that I may need.

  “That is very kind of you,” I say.

  I have to keep my sweaty undergarments. But how?

  “The prince has allowed use of a bathroom the two of you can share up on the third floor. I’ll take you there.”

  Of course we can share it. This hero in disguise can watch me naked. Clever Veronica. You don’t have to search me for what I may have hidden away. You just dispose of all my clothes and ensure that everything is gone. Or, go through my clothes and find my tools that way.

  “We won’t have our own room to bathe in?” I ask.

  “It’s all right,” my companion says to me.

  “Why don’t we wash our clothes while we clean ourselves,” I suggest. “We have to clean them at some point, right?”

  See? I’m being helpful. Let me help you, faceless guard.

  “But your clothes will be wet,” the guard says.

  “We’ll wash the clothes first, then hang them to dry near an open window and then wash ourselves. Oh! Do we have to rush?” my companion asks.

  She is interested in my plan and wants to see what I do. Well, shit. This has gotten worse. And I can’t blame her for anything because she’s a hero. Am I trapped?

  “You can’t take forever,” the guard says.

  I am so screwed right now. We’re now at the stairs leading to the second floor. I look around and I see a few familiar faces. Bridget is speaking with someone, but I can’t make out who it is. Will she look over at me? I’m here Bridget! Look at me!

  She doesn’t see me. Just as well. I’ve been cleaning stables. And a chamber pot. I don’t want her to see me like this.

  A quick glimpse of the second floor reveals servants and guards all on their best behavior. They are all standing a lot straighter. I barely see the narrow frame of Lady Winters before we’re on our way to the third floor.

  “Someone said that there was help needed in the stables and you two were assigned to that dirty work. Should be the work of strong young boys,” the guard says.

  “We are here to work,” my companion says.

  “Yes. Once we’re clean, and our clothes are cleaned, it will be as if we have never left the keep,” I say.

  See? I’m making a deal guard. If we clean our own clothes it could be a way to make up for sending us out to that stable.

  “So long as it doesn’t take a long time, I don’t see the harm,” the guard says.

  “Thanks,” my companion says.

  The guard takes us to the bathroom. He opens up the door and we step in, my companion first.

  “I’ll stay out here to give you two girls a bit more time. Your new dresses are already inside, if you would prefer. Don’t take too long now. People will be looking for you,” he says.

  “We’ll hurry,” I say with a smile.

  The door closes and we both see a large bath already filled with warm water.

  “Come on, we don’t have a lot of time,” the other woman says to me as she starts to strip. I wish Bridget was here with me saying that. Wait! That gives me an idea!

  I start to strip with her and as she steps to the tub I step up to her and put my hand on her shoulder and gracefully trace my fingers down her back to her waist. She freezes.

  “We can hurry…if you want,” I say. She recoils and shakes her head.

  “No. I mean, no thanks. Thanks…but…no…”

  “But, when you said we should share a room with such enthusiasm…I thought…” I say walking up to her. Wow, is she scared. Time to bring it home. “I thought…you wanted something more than a quick wash.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. Clearly, she’s not into girls, which is a gamble that is working in my favor; now to play the part of the rejected lover.

  “No…I’m sorry,” I say, backing away. I have some tears in my eyes. I learned to make myself cry when I was little. It got my brothers in so much trouble.

  “It’s not that…” she begins.

  “No!” I say. “It’s all right. I only thought that you…it doesn’t matter!” I say. I splash some water on myself to get cleaned quickly. I won’t be super clean, but I’ll be clean enough. It’s not like I’m that dirty; I was only in the stables for maybe an hour. I’m just interested in getting all of the heavy muck and sweat off. I then get back into my undergarments before the other woman has a chance to get into the tub.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “No. No, I’m sorry,” I say, still stifling fake tears.

  “We can still share the tub,” she says.

  “That’s all right,” I say getting back into my undergarments, ignoring the clean ones.

  I grab a new dress and blouse that has been set aside and put it on. It should mask the smell a bit from my undergarments. I smell myself and I smell like I did before. That’s not ideal. I really need something more…wait, did they set aside some perfume? I walk over like I knew it was always there. I splash a bit on me. There. The smell is all gone. Gah, this is the cheap stuff. Well, it will have to do. I am a servant after all.

  “I should get going. You…you can get yourself clean,” I say.

  “If you insist,” she says to me. I do. I have my tools and you have a good story to tell the other heroes.

  “I do. And…I’m sorry,” I say.

  I walk out past the guard. I smell a little better and I have a new dress and blouse on so I am presentable. My boots still have some mud on them, but most of it will come off in time. I’ll head to the basement and clean them off better at the well at some point. But for now, I have other work to deal with. I just hope that hero I hit on tells a good tale. How many details will she give? Will she say she was hit on? Will she just say I’m not the thief, too afraid to speak on how I wanted to have sex with her? I hope it’s the latter from how scared and nervous she was. Heroes trust one another and if she doesn’t delve too deeply when telling the other heroes what happened then no one should suspect me.

  Castle Mischief

  The great hall is filling with more and more people. There is going to be a great feast for lunch celebrating the arrival of the king. All the heroes are dressed well. Princess Bridget is already sitting at the main table beside where her brother will sit. There are two larger chairs that have been brought in, for the king and queen. They aren’t the heroes their children are, King Stavros and Queen Iona were born nobles themselves, as one would expect. Sure they’ve done their fair share of good deeds, but they’ve done their fair share of shady deals. They even give a bit to the poor, but compared to Blaise and Bridget they look like misers.

  The king and queen are nowhere to be seen. They must be up on the fourth floor, setting the royal jewels that they have brought with them in that vault that Blaise had built. Be the good son Blaise and take a hold of your father’s family jewels.

  I start to head
down to the kitchen to work when a hand falls on my shoulder.

  “Excuse me,” Blaise says.

  “Yes?” I ask, as I turn around. You’re supposed to be in the vault right now.

  “Oh. I thought you were someone else.”

  “I can still be of assistance, if you’ll let me,” I say.

  “Well, sure. You’re new here, aren’t you?” Blaise asks.

  “The same as a few others, I’m sure,” I say.

  “I…I need someone to bring food down to the prisoner. Can you do that?” Blaise asks.

  “Of course,” I say.

  The dungeon. I’ll actually be in the dungeon. That isn’t where I want to be at all. I want to be up here where it is nice and warm and dry. I do not want to be in a dark wet hole. But what choice do I have? I smile and head down into the kitchen.

  Is this where he wanted whoever he thought I was? I have an idea on who he thinks I am, but if there is a trap for me, then I should be careful.

  I walk down among the servants all pushing their way from table to table to oven to counter. This food is of a slightly better quality than Blaise was serving yesterday. A goat is roasting alongside a pig and the smell is just mouthwatering. I catch a waft of fresh breads and pastries that fill the air. Ah, the life of a rich man. My life soon.

  I start to put food on a plate when a man grabs my wrist.

  “What do you think you’re doing? This is the king’s feast!” the chef says to me.

  “The prince asked me to bring the prisoner some food,” I say.

  Go and take your bitchy fat fingers off my arm.

  “Oh. Well, that is too good for the prisoner…” he says looking at me.

  “Well, what food do you want me to bring the prisoner?” I ask. “Or shall I tell Prince Blaise no?” The fat man looks around at all the food surrounding us. All of the food is for the king’s feast.

  “Okay. Just, take some food and hurry! Go! Go!” he yells.

  I hurry, just to get away from him. He starts to fill up the plate himself because obviously I don’t know how to do that fast enough. He realizes I have just the two hands, right?

  I take the plate and scurry away from him as fast as I can. Ahead of me is the long hall with the servant’s quarters on the right. Past the servant’s quarters I turn down the corner and there is a lone guard standing there, waiting for me.

  “Food for the prisoner,” I say.

  “Fine. Proceed,” he says.

  It occurs to me that it is odd that there is but one prisoner in the dungeons. I suppose any criminals caught in the town would go to the cells in the barracks.

  There are two more guards down here. They look at the food and guess as to my purpose. One points to my right. I see a sad shape in a cell against the wall.

  The guard opens the cell for me and I step in with the plate. I set it down when I hear the cell door slam shut behind me.

  “What?” I stammer out.

  No, no, no. This can’t be happening to me!

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “That’s for the prince to decide,” the guard says.

  “But he said I’m supposed to bring food down here,” I say. “I’m not a prisoner!”

  “Looks like you are one to me,” the guard says.

  The guard stands back away from the cell and I can hear the footsteps of the prince descend the stairs. There are four other guards with him as he turns the corner and approaches my cell. Wait. There is someone else skulking behind him.

  Bernice!

  “Is this the woman that approached you?” Blaise asks Bernice.

  “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her,” Bernice says with a smile.

  “I don’t know this man,” I say.

  “Same voice too,” he says.

  Liar.

  “What did I do?” I ask.

  “You work for the Thief of Dunmire,” Blaise says.

  In a manner of speaking.

  “I don’t,” I say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen this man before.”

  “Lie to me and you’ll end up spending more time here,” Blaise says.

  “For what crime?” I ask.

  “Aiding the Thief of Dunmire. Don’t play stupid with me. We’ll have justice on him soon enough,” Blaise says. I turn to my cellmate.

  “Isn’t she the Thief…”

  “She was caught with a few coins and a ring or two. The Thief of Dunmire wouldn’t sneak into the keep with the crown jewels and the Tear of Astra to pick from and just pickpocket poor guards and servants,” Blaise says.

  “Are you blaming me…”

  “For that? No,” Blaise says. “She is a thief, and she will be punished so that she will never steal again. But you,” he says pointing at me. “You know what the Thief of Dunmire looks like.”

  We’re quite the pretty pair of girls, actually.

  “I don’t,” I say. “That man is lying!”

  “Come on now,” Bernice says, walking up to the bars. “You told me you were going to steal the Tear of Astra.”

  “If I was going to steal the Tear of Astra, why would I tell you about it?”

  “You were going to sell it to me,” Bernice says.

  Well, not anymore we’re not.

  “This,” Blaise says, pulling the Tear from his pocket and holding it in front of me. Yup, that’s glass. “This is what your boss is after. But he won’t get it.”

  Actually no, we’re not after the glass fake.

  “I’m not a thief,” I protest.

  I’m actually the greatest thief.

  “But you know the thief,” Bernice says. “The actual Thief of Dunmire. They just want to know who he is.”

  “Tell me what he looks like,” Blaise says.

  “I don’t know the Thief of Dunmire,” I say.

  “I don’t believe you,” Blaise says. “Look at me.”

  I look him right in the face.

  “Tell me who the Thief of Dunmire is. I can promise leniency,” Blaise says.

  “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” I say.

  “Look, I’m trying to be helpful. There are some who would use you as an example,” Blaise says.

  Like Kincaid?

  “I’m not a thief!” I yell.

  “Working with one is just as good as being one. You are tied to him, legally, and you will share his punishment,” Blaise says.

  “How do you know this man is telling the truth?” I ask.

  “How can you prove he is lying?” Blaise asks.

  “Because he’s speaking?” I offer.

  “What? I am insulted!” Bernice says.

  Oh please Bernice, quit whining like a little bitch.

  “We have good reason to believe him. He could have bought and sold the Tear of Astra. But instead he came to us. Pointing a finger at you,” Blaise says.

  Not a very good finger. It was Mary that saw him, not me.

  “Well, as an innocent woman I am pointing my finger right at him,” I say.

  “Stop lying!” Bernice yells at me.

  “Look, you’ve been caught. We’ve seen you skulking about. That, and your description from this man…” Blaise says, pointing to Bernice.

  “He is not an honest man!” I say.

  “I’m an honest man, I am,” Bernice says.

  “Honest men don’t tell lies,” I say.

  “You keep saying that he is not an honest man. How would you know that?” Blaise asks. “That this man is lying?”

  “Well, I’m an honest woman. And I say that I am innocent of these charges,” I say. Time to point fingers at my sister. Not that she’ll stay locked up for long if I have anything to say about it. “Besides, weren’t you looking for someone else when you ordered me down here?”

  “I was, but that was for another matter but I was looking to put you in here, where a woman like you belongs. I took the opportunity that I was presented with,” Blaise says. “You can stay in here as long as it takes to get you
to tell me what the Thief of Dunmire looks like.”

  “I’ve never seen him,” I say. Blaise just shakes his head.

  Wait, he has to be looking for Mary. What other matter….Bridget! Oh my god! She’s drawn attention to herself trying to fuck Princess Balloon Udders? When I see Mary next, oh, she’s going to get a good smack!

  “After a few months, you’ll change your tone. All villains do in the end. And then, well, you’ll get your comeuppance,” Blaise says. “By myself or other interested parties. Have I told you about all the heroes here? How we deal with villains like you?”

  “No,” I say. But please, go on.

  “Lady Veronica would have you humiliated in front of the crowd, a monument to what happens to villains of the realm. To discourage others.”

  “After a trial I hope, or do you torture your villains?” I ask.

  “Oh, there will be a trial. But, from what I see here, you skulking around, being identified by this man,” Blaise says, pointing once more to Bernice, “I don’t see how you are going to convince me that you are innocent. Oh! Let me tell you about Kincaid. See, while Veronica would have you in stocks and will make a speech while you’re covered in filth Kincaid’s sense of justice is simple. You see, he believes that villains were not properly punished as a child. He says that parents were neglectful of their duties and that he must handle that,” Blaise says, slapping one hand across the other with a smile.

  “Well, he’s not going to spank me,” I say.

  The thought is terrifying actually.

  “Well, you need to come clean. We are only interested in the Thief of Dunmire. You were led astray. He was charming, handsome, promised a life of adventure and wealth. I understand. He is the one that we all want dragged in front of the good people of this town for his crimes. Not you. But, if he gets away, leaves you here, then I will have no other choice but to place you in his spot,” Blaise says.

  “How do you know that that man is not the Thief of Dunmire and he’s tricking you?” I ask.

  Blaise turns and looks at Bernice. Yeah, I don’t really believe that he could be a thief either. He’s old, out of shape, and I doubt he can open a lock with a key as well as my sister and I can with picks.

  “He doesn’t look the part. Bernice here was a fence. He’s the guy thieves go to. He’s not a thief,” Blaise says.