by Tanya Huff
Terizan heard Jameel swear.
The lamp blew out.
His footsteps echoed in the corridor as he bounded up the stairs and under cover of the noise, Terizan walked eleven paces and squatted to check the trigger tiles. He'd taken the time to remove the shims. Clearly, he'd inherited some of his father's paranoia.
By the time she'd worked her way past the trap, Jameel was pounding on the inside of the door, not even searching for the latch, just trying to beat his way out. By the time she'd covered half of the forty-nine paces, his rising panic was beginning to make her regret blowing out the lamp. He'd spent two days, trapped in the dark, waiting to die and she'd thrown him right back there again. His terror made it hard to remember that he'd left her to die in the treasure room.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear only the sound of labored breathing from the top.
"You didn't pass the dead soldiers on the way in," she said softly, "or you'd have known they were yours. Two of them were Kerbers. You know another way into the catacombs and you'll use that to get out. You have no intention of taking the regalia to your brother and you never did."
"I locked you in." It was a token protest. It sounded more like he was saying, you're not really here. And saying it like he'd said it a hundred times before. Two days in complete darkness. Complete silence. Waiting to die.
"You thought you did."
"I reset the traps."
"So?"
Jameel laughed, a shaky sound, but free of panic. "Oh yes, I forgot. You're very good at what you do. So, what happens now."
He recovered quickly but she'd seen that before. He also moved very quietly for large man, but not quietly enough.
"You go back up those two stairs," Terizan told him, "and we'll keep talking. You don't, I leave you alone in the dark.."
"You can't get by me."
"Not as long as you stay by the door," she agreed. When she heard him return to the top of the stairs, she added, "We need each other to get out." Which wasn't entirely true. She could taunt him until he charged then easily slip by and have him bargain for his freedom with the regalia, but she had as little intention of creating a powerful enemy as she did of leaving him in the catacombs to die. Thieves who never learned that the paths between people were as precarious as those along the edges of buildings, took fatal falls. "I suggest we go back to your original plan; you give the regalia to your brother in return for your life."
"No. I have as much right to rule as he does."
"Except that he's out there and you're in here and I was hired to get him that regalia."
"What do you care? Essien screwed you out of your payment!"
"Technically, no." In spite of everything, Terizan couldn't prevent a smile. After all, a similar technicality had gotten her into the Thieves' Guild. "Essien never said there was anything else in the treasure room. He's not responsible for my assumptions."
After a moment, Jameel sighed. "You're taking this rather well."
"Getting angry," she told him flatly, "doesn't change things. Now, are we going to stay here, in the dark, and argue about this or are we leaving?"
She heard him sigh again. "We're leaving."
"My way?"
"I can't stay down here."
"I know."
The third and final sigh had a reluctant smile shaping it. "Your way."
***
Each piece of the regalia flared as Essien stroked it lightly with a reverent fingertip. Lifting his hand, he turned to the priests and curled his lip in what might have been a smile. "Satisfied?"
"We are satisfied, al'Kalamir." The priests looked so relieved Terizan had to wonder what would have happened to them had the regalia not been genuine. Removing the priests would certainly have removed any protests.
"Good." Continuing the turn so that the regalia was at his back, he allowed the smile to become genuine. "The coronation will be this afternoon. You'll all stay of course."
Terizan looked to Swan who shrugged and nodded.
"Good," Essien said again. "And afterwards, I'd be happy to have you witness the execution of my brother."
Jameel began to move, but the guards who'd been flanking him grabbed his arms before he took his third step and forced him to his knees.
"My last bit of unfinished business," Essien murmured patting his brother's cheek.
Ignoring instincts that told her not to get involved, Terizan's fingers clenched into fists. "He brought you the regalia!"
"There are two answers to that, little thief. The first is that, for reasons of your own which I do not need to know, you allowed him to carry the regalia out of the catacombs. Jameel may have handed it to me, but only through your efforts. The second response is a little more succinct." He spread his hands. "So?"
And that second response was impossible to argue with. One part of her mind watched Jameel struggle – his lifebraid, so like Swan's whipping back and forth as though it would be free on its own – and the other part tried to think of something, anything she could do. She felt Swan's hand close around her shoulder. She shrugged it off and stepped forward.
"What about my payment?"
Essien's dark brows rose. "I thought you said the treasure room was empty of everything but the regalia?"
"It was, but you said I could have anything I brought out." She nodded toward the struggling prince. "I want him."
Jameel stopped struggling.
"By your own words, I brought him out so by your word as al'Kalamir, he's mine."
"My word as al'Kalamir," Essien repeated. He walked around the small table so he could stare at his brother and the thief over the regalia.
The silence stretched and lengthened. Terizan could hear nothing from Swan and those of the Wing who were behind her. The Wing would take their cue from Swan and Swan seemed willing to let her play this out.
"My word as al'Kalamir," Essien repeated again. Glancing down at the regalia he frowned thoughtfully. "And you have made me al'Kalamir." When he glanced up again, he'd clearly come to a decision. "Very well, he's yours. But the next time I catch him..."
"He's on his own."
***
"That's four times you saved my life."
"It won't happen again," Terizan reassured him. "You're going back to your mother's people. And I'm going home."
One hand holding the flapping end of his veil, Jameel grinned down at her from the saddle. "Maybe I'll find myself a wife and settle down. Put all this behind me."
Terizan snorted. "Good luck."
***
"So, what happened between you and Jameel down in those catacombs?"
Had Swan not been so well armed, Terizan might have attempted to exploit that suspicious tone with a little teasing. As it was... "I saved his life three times and the pile of leprous baboon shit tried to lock me into the treasure room."
"So you saved his life a fourth time?" The mercenary captain snorted.
"It seemed like the thing to do." She'd managed to block out most of her memories of their ride from Oreen to Kalamir. Everything accept the nights with Swan had been hot, sandy, and painful. Horses were too far off the ground, saddles were not made for comfort, and Swan, while a surprisingly considerate lover, was a less than patient riding instructor. Now, once more in the saddle, it was all coming back to her. "He kept reminding me of you."
"Why?" Suspicion had made its move into jealousy.
"The life-braid. You have one just like it."
"Oh."
Terizan smiled at the tone and tried not to fall off her horse.
"So, did you ever find out about the lions?"
"Find out? I put one in charge and saved the other's life. The lions of al'Kalamir," she prodded when Swan looked blank. "al'Kalamir is the prince's title. Jameel and Essien were the lions."
"But why beware...."
"Jameel said the vizier didn't like them much. Since Essien killed him, his dislike seems to have been well founded."
"I'm sorry I got you into this."
"Why?"
Swan shrugged. "Beware the lions of al'Kalamir and all that. One of them cheated you and one of them tried to kill you after you saved his life four times."
"Only three times at the time he tried to kill me."
"Still. I'd have been furious. In fact, I was furious for you."
Clinging to the saddle with both hands, Terizan smiled. "I don't get angry. Instead, I stole one of the regalia rings and I slipped it into Jameel's pocket when I said good-bye."
The mercenary captain sucked air throw her teeth. "Essien's going to know it was you. You've left a powerful enemy back there."
"No. Jameel forgot a thumb ring in the treasure room. I grabbed it and left it in the missing ring's place."
"Essien will think Jameel took it."
"Uh huh."
"And I thought I brought you from Oreen to end a civil war."
"The war's over. They had to bring in mercenaries and Kerbers to fight this one. You were paid off when Essien got the regalia and the Kerbers have lost interest. Now, it's personal. Essien will never feel secure on the throne as long as a piece of the regalia is missing and Jameel will never feel secure knowing Essien's people will be coming after him."
They rode in companionable silence for a few minutes, wrapped in the noises of the Wing on the move.
"You know," Swan mused, "they could have lived happily ever after if you hadn't done this."
Terizan smiled over at her lover. "One of them cheated me and one of them tried to kill me after I saved his life four times."
"Three." Swan pointed out.
"Still..."
"Do you know what I think?"
"That beer is better than wine. That everything tastes better with enough dried chilies to kill a normal woman. That sex in a tent with a couple of dozen mercenaries listening in is perfectly normal. And..." Terizan winced as her horse changed his gait, rubbing her inner thigh against a buckle. "...that in spite of evidence to contrary, saddles are not instruments of torture."
"No... well, yes, but also that the lions of al'Kalamir should have been told to beware of you."
Even perched as precariously she was, Terizan managed to look smug. "Oh yeah. That too."
AUTHOR'S NOTE ON "SOMETIMES, JUST BECAUSE"
Because these stories have all been previously published, I usually do nothing more than clean them up before collecting them. I toss in a few more commas, I remove the double spacing after a period that has so recently been discarded even at the manuscript level driving those of us who learned to type on actual typewriters a bit crazy, and I shift the apostrophes. Then I send it off to my copy-editor who finds everything I missed. And there are always things missed; that's why there are copy-editors.
However, upon reading the digital copy of “Sometimes, Just Because” that I had in my files, I realized that copy-editing wouldn't be enough. The story included paragraphs so tangled that even I had no idea of what I'd meant – and I wrote them. Okay, I wrote them back in 2005, but time spent away from the text shouldn't impact clarity. What's more, I couldn't check to see if my digital copy was an early version with the problems fixed in publication because the only place this story has been published was in the repackaged Stealing Magic from Edge and I don't currently have a copy. I keep giving them away.
That said, this edition of “Sometimes, Just Because” is approximately 500 words and some serious disentangling different than the original. And, she said modestly, it's definitely a better version of the story.
SOMETIMES, JUST BECAUSE
"Was it something I said?"
Tribune Two paused, pale eyes narrowing, one hand raised to indicate the target on the map of Oreen.
Tribune Three snickered in what could, in no way, be considered a reassuring
manner, amusement sending oily drops of sweat dancing down the smooth rolls of his neck.
Tribune One lifted a sardonic brow; as much, it seemed at her companions as at the thief facing them. "Why do you ask?"
"First you want me to steal from gods; now wizards." Terizan scratched at a flea bite on her forearm. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."
"Get rid of you?" One asked, eyebrows moving from sardonic to exaggerated shock. "The only thief to ever make it all the way to the Sanctuary?"
"The thief who can bring Swan and her Wing of mercenaries to heel?" Two added.
Three rolled his eyes heavenward. "The thief who dares to steal from the gods themselves and in such a way she benefits from the theft?"
"The thief who holds the debt of the al'Kalamir for bringing his regalia out of a trapped and enchanted treasure room?"
"The thief whose current investments with the Guild have reached close to record levels in a record amount of time?"
"Why would you think the Guild would want to get rid of you?"
Terizan shrugged, the movement causing a dribble of moisture to run down her sides, making her cotton tunic less comfortable and even more fragrant. "Just a feeling."
"Besides," One amended with an aristocratic snort, "it's only one wizard."
"Right."
"And even were you not the best we have, your sensitivity to magic would make you the logical choice."
"Uh huh. Usually, my sensitivity allows me to avoid magic. Breaking into a wizard's tower and stealing a curse..."
"A curse anchor," Three offered helpfully when she paused.
Terizan nodded her thanks. "...a curse anchor, is not avoiding magic. It's st..." Suddenly realizing that the Thieves' Guild Tribunal might think she was calling them stupid instead of the concept and fully aware that the consequences of such a misunderstanding would likely not be in her favour, she forced her tongue around a different combination of letters. "...range. Strange to think I could even get into a wizard's tower."
"Strange but not impossible," One replied, the twist in her lips a fair indication she'd actually heard the original word but was content to ignore it for now. "The Council has given us full plans of not only the grounds around the wizard's tower, but of the interior of the tower itself. All known spells and enchantments have been clearly marked."
"The wizard's servant was most forthcoming," Three added, smiling broadly.
"Tortured?" Terizan asked.
"Bribed." From the tone, she assumed Tribune Two would have preferred the former. "The woman came to the Council when it became clear that this recent heat was the wizard's doing."
"Gee, since she's frying too I'm surprised she didn't offer the information from the goodness of her heart." Raising a hand between her and the three nearly identical expressions facing her, Terizan sighed. "Sorry. Kidding. Go on."
"Besides your percentage of the rather sizable fee the Council is paying us to steal this anchor, you will of course be able to remove anything else that takes your fancy."
Take anything else she fancied from a wizard's tower? They really were trying to get rid of her.
Something of the thought must have shown on her face as Two leaned forward, map crinkling under damp palms. "Of course, if you refuse the job, we'll only have to send someone else."
Someone less likely to succeed.
One and Three looked at her and smiled.
Someone less likely to survive.
It was a bitch being the best.
***
"Okay. Let me see if I got this straight." Balthazar leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded, brow furrowed. "The wizard's pissed at the Council for telling him to cut down that big thorny hedge so he makes it hot. His servant goes to the Council and tells them the wizard is making it hot and for a price, she'll tell how to stop it. The Council comes here and tells the Tribunal they'll pay them to steal the thing the wizard's using to make it hot. The Tribunal gives you the job so you're going to steal an anchor from the wizard?"
"Essentially, yes." Terizan tested the grip of a grappling hook, tossed it back in the basket, and pulled out another.
/> "Ain't anchors kinda big?"
"It's not that kind of an anchor. It's just a small item the wizard is using to focus the curse."
"Oh." He stuffed his hand into his armpit and scratched vigorously. "You get all the good jobs."
"Balthazar, do you remember what wizards do to thieves they catch?" Crossing the storeroom, she ran questing fingertips over the line of ropes sorted onto a row of brass hooks by length and weight.
"Sure. They turn them into mice then set the cat on them."
"I don't want to be a mouse."
"I wouldn't mind."
As she turned toward him, an eyebrow rose in a conscious imitation of Tribune One.
"Right. The cat." Bare feet shuffled against the tile. "But you won't get caught, you're the best."
Right. And that was working out so well for her. Gods. Wizards…
"You never get caught," he added mournfully.
He'd been caught twice. Once more and the guild would ground him – Magistrates were expensive in Oreen and the guild wouldn't pay out indefinitely.
It was, if possible, hotter in the storeroom than it had been in the Inner Sanctum. Hotter and dustier. Wiping her face on her tunic left a grey/brown smear across the fabric. One more thing and she could head for the relative cool of the streets.
"What happened to your stuff?" the older thief wondered as she sorted through the lock picks for a set that felt right in her hand.
"Nothing."
"Then what's with the shopping spree?"
"Items you use frequently become imprinted with your... essence."
"Scent?"
"Close enough." Terizan tossed the set of picks that felt the least wrong into her pack. "I'm not taking anything into that tower that might tell the wizard who I am."
***
"Sweetling, wizards are not exactly in my line of work. They're reclusive, every last one of them. They have no interest in the pleasures of the flesh, they're only interested in the pursuit of obscure knowledge, and their only indulgence is arcane ritual." Poli frowned at her in the mirror, a minimalist expression that wouldn't disturb his cosmetics. "What?"