Proper Thieves

by Smith, Luke CJ

  Breigh and Zella exchanged looks from across the room. “...Yeah!” Zella said, eyes still locked with Breigh’s. “Long live...that!”

  Phaedra looked down at Breigh. “So, you must be Balaa, the Queens’ former bodyguard.”

  Breigh jutted out her chin. “I must!”

  Phaedra looked past Breigh at Nalan, who was peeling important papers off his sweaty arms and legs. “And you must be Niro, the prince’s armorer.”

  Nalan’s eyes shifted left and right. “...Okay.”

  Phaedra walked over and put her hands on Zella’s shoulders. “And you. You must be Zara. Drake told me all about you.”

  “Did he?” Zella cocked her head to one side and smiled.

  Phaedra leaned in, as if speaking to her in confidence. “I know it’s strange for me to say this, considering all that you’ve been through, but...you’re so lucky. Lucky to have one another, I mean.” Still smiling, Zella arched an eyebrow. “My sisters were just hideous to me.”

  Wide-eyed, Breigh flashed a look back at Nalan, her mouth making a big round ‘O’. Nalan was too busy to notice; he was trying to use as much of his body as possible to cover the plans on the tabletop. Meanwhile, Zella clenched her eyelids shut, tightening her face into the biggest, most sincere smile her facial muscles could squeeze out.

  Smoothing out the sleeves of Zella’s dress as she let go, Phaedra walked around the room. She picked up stray wine bottles and straightened rugs and pillows as she traversed the suite. “Yes, I left my family’s beet farm just as soon as I was old enough to earn the coin it took to book passage to Tirimaer. Just me and my little brother Jumry.” She stopped, pillow in hand, mid-fluff, and looked winsomely out into space. “Poor Jumry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if Samus told you, but he’s been feeling awful poorly these last few months. Why, we’re nearly at the end of our savings. If you all hadn’t come along…” A blush rose quickly to her cheeks. “But listen to me going on about my problems when you have a whole kingdom depending on you.” She hugged a pillow to her chest and sighed. “I’m just...I’m just so excited to be able to help.”

  Zella squinted at the slender redhead. Next to her, Breigh could feel Nalan shift awkwardly to maintain his position on the table. Breigh couldn’t stop smiling. Clutching the arm of one of the nearby chairs, Breigh wondered idly if Zella would stop at just exploding Devan’s brain. Their suite had a lot of easily weaponizable furniture, after all.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, Devan emerged from the comfort room, followed by Tolem and Allister, who was carrying a smallish suitcase. “So!” Devan asked the room, leaning forward theatrically on his cane. “Who wants to see the bomb?”

  “Scoot,” Tolem said, shooing Breigh and Nalan off the table. He began rolling up the large, hand-drawn plans that were spread out beneath them. Devan took one of Phaedra’s hands in his and guided her to a seat at the head of the table. He sat first; she sat on his lap. “Appleford,” he said, “would you please show Miss Phaedra our little insurance policy?”

  Allister shot a look over at Breigh and rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, ‘Drake’,” he said, setting the suitcase—which Breigh recognized as his toiletries case—on the table in front of Phaedra. He opened the two latches on the side and swung the lid open. Inside was a swirling mass of colored light. Breigh had seen him conjure up this particular effect before; harmless light shows were one of Allister's specialties.

  Phaedra steepled her fingers in front of her mouth. “Oh my goodness!” she said in her honeyed child voice. “I didn’t think it would be so beautiful!”

  “It...it is beautiful, isn’t it?” Devan tilted his head to one side. “I never really thought about a bomb as being beautiful before...but I guess when you grow up in a warzone…” He trailed off; his lower lip began to quiver. Phaedra reached over and smoothed his bangs back from his brow. “Phaedra,” he said solemnly. “I love seeing the world through your eyes.”

  Breigh turned and looked at Zella again. Zella was merely smiling, but a faint twitch had developed in her left eye that hadn't been there before. Breigh realized that the pain in her head was throbbing in time with the fluttering of Zella’s eyelid.

  Devan motioned for the others to take seats around the table. Only Tolem opted to stand, leaning against a bookcase across the way. Breigh sat next to Zella. Zella stared at the tabletop in front of her, her smile finally beginning to fade. Meanwhile, Breigh scooted her chair forward and back, side to side, searching for the best angle to watch the show she was sure was still to come.

  Phaedra couldn't take her eyes off the glowing whorl of colors. “How does it work?” she cooed.

  No one spoke. Devan shot a look over at Allister, who was rubbing his temples.

  “Oh,” Allister said with a start. “Uh. It’s...obviously a much smaller version of the device that obliterated the mystical field in Kauleth. We're all...um...linked to it...mentally. We all know a code word, and if we think it, the bomb detonates, creating a magic-free dead zone with a two-mile radius.”

  “And The Palace crashes,” she said, with reverence. “So any of you can set it off at any time?”

  “Aaaany time,” Devan whispered into her ear. Her eyes grew huge. She wriggled her bottom excitedly into Devan’s lap.

  The pressure in Breigh’s head spiked. And it wasn’t just for her; Allister slapped the table, cocking his head to one side, while Nalan’s mouth hung open, his left eye clamped shut.

  Phaedra looked back into Devan's eyes. “But you're not going to, are you? Set it off, I mean?”

  Devan looked away. He bit his lip with all the forced sincerity he could muster. “We all hope it doesn't come to...that.”

  Tolem groaned quietly and rolled his head back on his shoulders.

  “And...of course…” Allister chimed in, hissing his words out through gritted teeth, “we aren't the only ones...who could set it off.”

  Phaedra cocked her head at him. “Appleford? Are you ok?”

  “Fine,” Allister grunted, craning his neck to look pointedly over at Zella. “Just a little headache or something.”

  Zella caught his gaze and her eyelids shot up, as if she’d just noticed she’d been doing something without realizing it. All at once, the pain vanished. Around the table, Breigh, Allister, and Nalan all slumped back in their chairs a bit.

  Devan nodded impatiently. “Appleford? You were saying?”

  “Huh? Oh...yes.” Allister sat upright again. “If anyone other than the six of us were to touch the bomb or try to disarm it? Boom.”

  “Boom,” Phaedra repeated, her eyes transfixed on the glowing spectacle.

  “They'd be hosing the smell of burnt mage hair out of the upholstery for weeks,” Allister said. “If the entire place wasn't a mountain of rubble, of course.”

  Devan reached down and patted Phaedra on the bottom, prompting her to get up. “Listen, love, my friends and I have some things to talk about. You busy tonight?”

  “I live to serve your every need,” she said in her server’s singsong, pulling Devan out of his chair and wrapping herself around him again. He leaned down and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “Dancing again?” she asked.

  With goggle eyes, Breigh turned very slowly to look at Zella. Allister followed her gaze, his forehead betraying his confusion. Nalan and Tolem also turned to see what the others were looking at. All of them found Zella rocking gently back and forth in her chair. Her lips were pursed. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were locked on Devan and Phaedra.

  All together, the four of them turned to look over at where she was staring. Then, all together, the four of them turned back to look at Zella again. By the time they had, understanding had washed over each of their faces. Well, except for Nalan’s.

  Phaedra looked around the room and waved. “Pleasure to meet all of you!”

  “You too!” said Breigh, Nalan, Allister, and Tolem—all at once, all still looking at Zella. Zella, still staring at the happy couple, silently mouthed the word,
“Bye.”

  Devan walked Phaedra to the door. Breigh was literally vibrating with anticipation.

  Devan closed the door behind Phaedra. Breigh looked back at Zella, then back to Devan, then back at Zella again.

  Devan turned back to face the rest of the group. Breigh bit her lip as Zella pushed her chair back, rose slowly to her feet.

  Zella just stood there.

  Devan looked over at her from across the room.

  “That was good thinking, boss,” Zella said. She gave him a weak smile.

  Devan smiled back. “Thanks, Z.”

  Zella went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Devan sat back down again. Breigh’s arms fell limp at her side. No blood geyser. She moaned softly, pathetically, to herself.

  “She's right,” Tolem said, turning to Devan after watching Zella leave. “That was good work.”

  Devan looked over and met his gaze. He sniffed. “Thank you,” he said with more than a bit of chill in his voice.

  “But,” Tolem continued, “this puts us in a damned awkward spot.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Allister said, plopping into a chair beside Devan. “‘Appleford?’ You couldn't have used the same aliases we gave the hotel? How the hell am I supposed to keep track of who thinks I'm who?”

  Beside him, Nalan ran his hand back through his sweat-streaked hair. His shirt was entirely soaked through. “Will somebody please tell me what that was all about?”

  Devan watched as Zella opened the door to the balcony and took her glass of water outside. “Allister, can you bring Nalan up to speed?” He rose to his feet, set his cane, and followed after her.

  “Tch,” Allister said, opening his toiletries case and watching Devan leave as he did. “Basically, she knows we’re thieves, but we’re pretending to be revolutionaries. We know she’s a spy for the casino, but she’s pretending to be, I don’t know, a nymphomaniacal beet farmer, I guess. But since she thinks we have a bomb, at least The Palace guards aren’t going to bust in here and disembowel us in our sleep.”

  “No, no, I understood all of that,” Nalan said, waving his hands in front of him. “I mean, will somebody please tell me what that…” He pointed out at the patio. “...was all about?”

  Allister just shook his head with bemusement. “If I were to guess? Devan just cheated on his wife without realizing she was married.”

  Nalan squinted at Allister. He tried four separate times to respond, each time stopping just short of actually opening his mouth. At last, he gave up: “All right,” he said, getting up and making his way back to his bedroom. “I’m going to go get a towel.”

  Tolem rubbed his forehead and snorted. “Kids,” he growled dismissively. “I need a goddamn drink.”

  “Just you and me, girly girl,” Allister said, pulling his chair up closer to the table so he could examine the ‘bomb’. Breigh pressed her forehead down on the table and wrapped her arms around her head. From outside her little arm-fort, she heard Allister say, “Uh...girl?”

  “All I wanted,” she moaned from underneath her mop of thick platinum hair, “was to see a man’s brain melt and squirt out through his ear holes.”

  Allister raised a hand and began making adjustments to his light-show spell. “Well, life is cruel.”

  “Pff.” Breigh blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I wish.”

  Devan

  Devan found Zella out on the balcony, watching the gray chimney smoke float up from the town below. As the sun was coming up, the townsfolk made their way out of their tiny ashcan houses and into the streets to begin the morning trudge to the factories and workshops. Meanwhile, two terraces over from Devan and Zella, a party that had started last night was still going strong. The winds that whipped around The Palace's hospitality spires carried with them the sounds of laughter mixed with pipe music.

  Devan gripped the handle of his cane a little tighter. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

  Zella turned and smiled at him. “Sure! Yeah!” Her breath was soft and airy. “So! How was she?”

  Devan turned his head to one side and squinted. “Is this a trap?”

  “What?” Zella laughed. “No! Why would it be a trap?”

  “Because this feels like a trap.”

  “Since when?” Zella leaned back against the railing. “We always used to talk about the people we see.”

  ‘Used to,’ Devan thought. Interesting.

  Devan bobbed his head, willing to play along. “She was all right,” he said. “A little…” he searched for the right word, “...provincial?”

  “Ooh, good word.” Zella laughed a little. “Like, Traena provincial?”

  Now it was Devan's turn to laugh. “Oh, gods, no...Traena, so much crying with that girl...” The wind blew Devan’s bangs into his face. He swept them away. “But still, if you're going to hire a professional seductress, at least find one who knows you can use your mouth during sex.”

  They both laughed at that, then fell quiet. Behind Zella, the smoke clouds rolled lazily by.

  Devan leaned up against the railing next to her, setting his cane to one side. “But yeah. I’ve had better.” He gave her his best roguish half-smile.

  She smiled back. But her eyes didn’t seem to be into it.

  “You're not okay with this, are you, Devan said, telling more than asking.

  Zella wrinkled her nose. “It’s just a little weird. It’s been a long time since…” She cocked her head to one side. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had this conversation. But it’s fine.” She smiled again. Her eyes still weren’t into it. “It’s fine.”

  Devan watched her face for a long moment, then nodded.

  Zella turned and looked out over the town, resting her arms on the railing. He came up behind her and pressed his chest to her back. She pressed back against him. Her warmth felt wonderful against him in the cold morning.

  “You know what’s interesting, though...” she said slowly. “This is the first time you've used...this particular tool...on a job. “

  Devan kissed her hair. “Thank the gods.” Instructor Winselle was by far the most attractive mark they'd ever hit. The only serious contender for second place was Sage Mytaff, who was in his early 120s.

  “How are you feeling about it?” Zella asked.

  Devan smirked. “Well, pretty good,” he said. “She wasn't that provincial.” She didn't laugh. Usually she would have. He knew what question she wanted him to ask next. He decided to oblige her. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well.” Zella stopped pushing back against him. “It just occurs to me that, if you're running a con on someone, using sex...it seems like such a shortcut. And I never saw you as being one to take the easy way.”

  Devan frowned at that. “The easy way?”

  “Yeah, I mean, seducing a woman to get what you want. Doesn't that seem kind of...”

  She paused. Devan knew she was really planning her next word carefully, like a surgeon choosing the right blade to make the first incision.

  She chose the sharpest scalpel on the table. “...practical?”

  Devan pulled away. “Practical,” he said, flatly. He let the word hang there between them for a moment. “I remind you that she was seducing me. I was counter-seducing her. Which is way harder.”

  Zella shrugged and watched the drifting smoke. “If you say so.”

  Frowning, Devan leaned in against her again. “You think you could've done better.” It wasn't a question.

  She twisted around to face him, pressing her back against the railing. “I do. And I think you can do better.”

  “You know? My methods got some...” Devan turned his smirk on her. “...pretty impressive results last night.”

  Zella rolled her eyes and made a gurgling sound in the back of her throat.

  He ignored it. “I think I'll keep on following my instincts.”

  “Yeah, that's what you were following,” she scoffed. “Your instincts.”

  “All right.” His voice took a hard edge.
“All right. You know what? Here's a promise. Next time we need to run a con on somebody, you can show me how it's done. One airtight, vagina-free confidence job. I look forward to seeing how this works.”

  “You're on,” she shot back at him.

  “I guarantee you'll have a lot less fun than I did last night.”

  “But I bet I still have a lot more fun than Phaedra had last night.” Zella showed some teeth in her smile.

  Behind Devan, the door swung open. “Break time’s over, happy lovers,” Allister said, poking his head out onto the balcony. “Time to plan a goddamn burglary. Ready?”

  Devan glared at Zella slit-eyed. “Ready,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “After you, O Hunter of Love,” Zella said, pointing the way.

  Nalan

  Spread out across the table were stacks of charcoal sketches of various rooms and corridors from around The Palace, meticulously hand-drawn by an artist with a terrific eye for architectural detail. Nalan had barely been able to tear himself away from them since Tolem laid them out. Underneath those stacks, spread out from one end of the table to the other, was an enormous map of The Palace, seemingly drawn by the same artist as the room drawings.

  “Who drew these?” Devan asked, taking his seat.

  “Zella's new friend,” Tolem replied, scooting up to the table.

  “Samus?” Allister asked. “The same skeeve who told us to get into bed with Tabitha Turncoat?” He started gathering up handfuls of the sketches. “Anyone want to help me haul these out to the terrace to burn them?”

  Without a word, Nalan snatched one of the pages back from him and returned it to its place atop the big map. His eyes flashed back and forth, considering the room in the context of the larger structure. “Hey,” Allister nudged Nalan hard in the ribs. “Time for talking and listening,” he said. “We need you to pretend to be human for a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” Nalan said distantly.

  Zella reached across and turned the page in front of him upside down. Nalan folded his hands and frowned. “Sorry.”