Proper Thieves

by Smith, Luke CJ

  Allister cocked an eyebrow. “So, the kid doesn’t know the word for airship, but she knows about obscure mining equipment?”

  Zella smacked him on the arm. He whined.

  “It’s actually, um…” Nalan began quietly. “It’s sort of a common…”

  “A lot of Vertus’ cargo passed through this room,” Zella explained to Allister. “Lynna saw most of it. That’s how she figured out which word was which.”

  “All right, all right,” Allister said, rubbing his arm. “Krist, you’re hitty lately.” He edged in closer to the book. “So...if they were going to blast a hole in the hull, why did it have to be there, on the underside?”

  Nalan leafed a few pages further ahead. “‘Order: two airships’. That’s what this word means. But over here in the notes section…” He ran his finger down a row of words. “This mark here means ‘roof.’ These two words here mean ‘no roof.’”

  Breigh nodded. She was brandishing a child-sized broom like a short sword. “The security towers had no clear view of the underside of The Palace,” she boomed.

  “Shhh...” Zella put her hands over Lynna’s ears. The girl had only just closed her eyes.

  “Plus, the spells that keep The Palace flying are all concentrated on the underbelly,” Allister said. “That would make it hard for mages to sense what’s going on down there. If I ever had a huge stash of something that mages shouldn’t know about, that’s where I would keep it.”

  A sudden realization lit up Zella from within like a ray of sunshine. “Then that,” she said with a huge grin, “is where the gold still is.”

  Nalan cocked his head to one side. “How do you figure?”

  “The Palace’s itinerary,” Zella said. “I was eavesdropping up on the mezzanine, trying to get information on Faerathore, and one minion or another was in his ear about the Aurium plates they were hanging all over the ship.” Zella looked down, Lynna was snoozing soundly. “I remember distinctly hearing that they were coming back here after their time in Kauleth was over to have the plates removed. And since they didn’t beat us back here…”

  “...The Kaulethis must have let them stay the full week,” Allister said, nodding along. “I wonder how dear Uncle Tolem felt about that.”

  “There’s no way he would’ve attempted a gambit this daring in the middle of a city, in plain view of all and sundry,” Breigh said, parrying imaginary polearms with her broom. “He would’ve waited for the journey back to Ptolimar.”

  “Tolem probably expected the Kaulethis would’ve chased The Palace off with a sharp stick after what happened,” Allister said, finishing his thought. “Instead, he’s had to cool his heels for the last two days.”

  Zella walked Lynna over and laid her down on a rug by the fireplace. The ideas were spinning in her head in a mad, giddy dance. She loved this part—the first suggestion of a new job. That moment when the novelty, the audacity of the thing was almost too much for her to bear. She bit her lip to keep from jumping up and down and squealing.

  “So,” she said slowly, reining her excitement in. “It’s a two-day ride back to Kauleth from here. That’s three days’ balance.”

  Breigh planted her hands on the table and grinned. “A lot can be done in three days’ time.”

  Nalan’s eyes flicked back and forth at the drawing in front of him. “I think...maybe…”

  Allister ran his hand through his red hair. “Yeah. Yeah, we could make this work.”

  One by one, everyone turned their eyes toward Devan. Devan, who hadn’t said a word in a very long time. He had such an impassive look on his face; Zella wasn’t even sure he’d been listening to them.

  He held his coin upright on the table, his finger held ready to flick the edge one more time. Instead, he picked up the coin and pocketed it. He reached for his walking stick and pushed himself up from the table with a groan. Slowly, he limped his way to the back, letting the curtain fall closed behind him.

  Devan

  In due time, Devan heard the rustling of fabric behind him. He was sitting on the floor on a pile of Lynna’s blankets, flipping through her little red primer.

  “So?” he asked, not looking up. “Are we going to do this?”

  Zella let the curtain fall closed behind her. “Depends on what you think ‘this’ is.”

  “‘This’ is where you grab me by the shoulders and shake me and tell me to pull my shit together. Right?” Devan set the tip of his walking stick into a seam between two floorboards and pushed himself up to his feet. “I figured Nalan would be the one to do it.”

  “He does seem to be the new Devan lately, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” Devan laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day. But he’s got his head on straight. Which is why you could have bowled me over with a feather when he started talking like we had a chance at hitting Tolem back.”

  Zella put her hands on her hips and looked away. “You know…”

  “It’s kind of amazing, really,” Devan said, cutting her off. “Somehow we went from ‘too emotional to make a rational decision’ to ‘level-headed and ready to rob a bunch of seasoned gangsters’ in two days’ time. That’s got to be some kind of record.”

  “Kind of like how you went from ‘daredevil superthief’ to ‘scolded puppy’ in the span of a minute and a half?”

  Devan’s expression froze. “Ouch,” he said at last.

  Zella groaned in frustration. “Is this what it’s like to be Allister?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you’re sarcastic and mean to him all the time. Just like you are to Tolem, Instructor Winselle, and, fuck...everyone anymore. I just never thought you’d turn your ‘I’m too smart for you to keep up with’ bullshit on me.”

  Devan clucked his tongue and turned away.

  “You weren’t always like this,” she said. “Before Tolem. Before everything got so complicated. Back when you were just the spoiled little genius kid everything came easy for.”

  “Everything but walking.” Devan grinned sardonically, banging his walking stick on the floor.

  “And I don’t remember you ever doing that. Complaining about…” Zella grabbed his cane. “...this. Used to be, I couldn’t keep up with you on your cane. Now, you cling to this thing like it’s the only thing keeping you from drowning.”

  Devan didn’t have a response to that.

  “So what happened, Devan? One failure? One mistake, and you think that gives you a free pass to be shitty to everyone around you?”

  “When all else fails,” Devan said through a sneer, “go with what works.”

  “Yeah,” Zella shouted at him. “Because this is working great!”

  They both fell silent. Zella turned her back to him. Devan gripped his stick a little tighter.

  “You…” Devan’s voice quietly broke the stillness in the room. “You really hated the fact that I slept with Phaedra, didn’t you.”

  Zella looked back over her shoulder, her face twisted into a mask of confusion. “What?”

  “It’s like you’ve been fuming at me ever since.” He stared off at the corner of the room. “I…didn’t have to sleep with her. I could’ve gone a different way. I could’ve gone a number of different ways. I chose to sleep with her.”

  Zella turned around. “What does this have to do...with anything?”

  Devan’s hand fell limp at his side. “I didn’t know why I did it at the time. I mean, okay, the obvious, she’s…” He noticed an unhealthy glow in Zella’s eyes and stopped short. “...not completely unattractive...but I felt like...it was something I needed to do. I needed to have...something that wasn’t you and me. I needed something to put a little distance between us.”

  Zella nodded her head vigorously. “Well done, then. Mission accomplished.”

  “I would…” Devan’s shoulders slumped. “I’d lie awake at night. Every night we were at The Palace. And I would worry. What if something happened to you? What if my plan wasn’t sound? What if the
re was some hole, some angle I didn’t foresee, and you wound up getting hurt, or...or worse?”

  “You and me…” Devan lowered himself down onto a small chair nearby and set his walking stick aside. “And, yeah, the others too...but especially you and me. I can’t have that…”

  He held out one hand, his palm up.

  “...and this…”

  He held up his other palm.

  “...robbing casinos, outhustling criminals...I can’t have them both at the same time. It’s just...”

  He closed his eyes, shook his head.

  “...It’s just too hard.”

  Zella’s face softened. She stepped closer to where he sat. Tentatively, she reached out, placed a hand tenderly behind Devan’s neck and drew him in close, pulling his face to her breast.

  And that’s when she kneed him in the stomach as hard as she could.

  “What a load of bullshit!” she shouted at him as his body slumped forward and dropped to the ground. “‘It’s too haaaard’? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Devan grabbed his gut where he lay; his mouth gaped wide as he sucked for air.

  “Let me tell you what’s going on here, Devan,” Zella said, kneeling down over his prone body. “You’re a brilliant, brilliant motherfucker who’s never had to work for a goddamn thing. You set the bar, then you sail over it. So you raise the bar higher. And higher. Until it’s ridiculous how high you’ve raised the thing. The black hatchet. The ledger scroll. Parnick’s folio. And the first time you don’t clear that bar, what do you do? You sulk. And you feel sorry for yourself. And you try and weasel out of things. You even let Nalan call the shots because you know he’ll take the easiest possible road.”

  Outside the curtain, Devan could hear Allister trying to stifle a giggle.

  “So you failed. You know who else failed? Me. Big time. Bigger than you, by far. I called my shot with Faerathore and completely missed the mark. But you know what’s different between me and you? I fail all the time. How do you think I got as good as I am? By screwing up, seeing what didn’t work, learning from it, and trying something else. That’s called being a freaking person, Devan. Now just think how good you could be if you just fucked up once in a while?”

  Zella grabbed Devan by the shirt and pulled his face up toward hers. “Let’s practice. Let’s say you try to pass off boinking Phaedra as ‘building a wall around your heart to keep from getting hurt,’ when what really happened was you got lost up your own asshole playing ‘debonair man of mystery.’”

  She dropped him, and the back of Devan’s head hit the floor with a thud.

  “Ow!” Devan yowled, reaching back to cradle his skull.

  “There,” Zella said, rising to her feet. “Lesson learned. Think how much better you are now thanks to that new insight.” She smirked. “Now get up.”

  Gingerly, Devan rolled over and groped for his walking stick. Zella batted it out of his reach. He glared up at her. She glared back.

  “Get. Up.”

  Devan clamored to his feet, holding onto a wall for balance. As soon as he was upright, Zella was in his face, practically nose to nose. “Now you listen to me,” she hissed. “You are Devan of the Goddamn Field, smartest motherfucker in any room you’re standing in. And I’m Zella of the Peak. I’m the best—the best—mentalist still drawing breath in six worlds. And you know who’s out there?”

  Devan turned to the curtain. He set his jaw. “Allister of Targe’s Rock. A fireblood mage who...who once outran The Palace’s entire guard in a flying dump wagon.”

  Zella nodded. “Who else?”

  “Breigh of Fold and Fael.” Devan was nodding too. “Captain of the field at Collegium Hill and slayer of Arachnus of the Fall.”

  Zella shook him by the shoulders. “Who else?”

  “Nalan of the Fen,” Devan was smiling now. “A machinist who picked an impossible lock and stole two tons of gold from the most secure stronghold ever built.”

  Zella cocked an eyebrow at Devan. “But he didn’t really steal that gold, did he?”

  This time, Devan grabbed her by the shoulders. “The day’s still young.” With that, he gathered Zella into his arms and kissed her deeply on the lips.

  And that’s when she kneed him in the stomach as hard as she could for a second time.

  “You’re still an asshole, Devan,” she said, looking down at his crumpled body.

  She gave him a half smile and knelt down to kiss him on the cheek.

  “But you don’t have to be.”

  ---

  “Devan,” Allister said, trying to hide a smirk behind a hand. “Weren’t you wearing a different shirt when you went back there?”

  Devan shook his head as he pushed his way back through the curtain. “Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “The other one got some vomit on it.” He smiled a little as he said it.

  Arms folded across her chest, Breigh nodded her approval at Zella, who followed Devan back into the kitchen. “I remember the first time I made a man heave chunder.” She almost seemed wistful, like she was about to tear up.

  Allister slapped Breigh on the bicep. “Steady on, old salt.”

  “I’m just...” There was a distinct quaver in Breigh’s voice. “I’m so pleased Zella was able to kick you until you saw reason.” Abruptly she turned away and took a moment to collect herself.

  “Breigh?” Nalan rose from the table and made a move to go after her.

  Allister caught him by the elbow. “She’s just...glad things are getting back to normal.” Allister nodded over at Devan. “I think we all are.”

  Devan winced as he slid into a chair by the table. He rubbed at his aching abdomen. “Yes sir. Normal as it gets.” He looked up at Zella.

  Zella smiled. He smiled back.

  “First thing,” Devan said to the group. “We scrap everything. Every preconceived notion of how this is supposed to go. Everything we’ve ever read in a Cliven the Clip novel. The way we got tripped up last time—”

  Zella cleared her throat and eyed him menacingly.

  Devan stopped, thought about it, and smirked. “The way I got tripped up last time...was seeing the job the way I wanted it to be instead of the way it is. So everything goes. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good,” Zella said. Everyone else followed suit.

  “Second thing,” Devan said. “We...I...layered a whole lot of unnecessary shit on top of the last attempt. Femmes fatales. Magic bombs. This time, we keep. It. Simple. We’re out to accomplish one thing—fuck Tolem and his crew of dickheads. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Zella said. Everyone else followed suit.

  “All right then,” he said. He reached over and squeezed Zella’s hand. “So let’s plan a goddamn robbery.”

  Tolem

  Five days later, the skies above Kauleth were awash in color, as fireworks streaked and soared and burst. The Palace’s last night in the city wasn’t as ostentatious as its first; in fact, it felt to Tolem like it was merely going through the motions. The streets were empty; the promontories of the great ship were quiet. Kauleth, which was still licking its wounds after the riots, was more than ready for The Palace to leave, and The Palace was more than ready to oblige.

  “Your table, sir,” said the waiter as he pulled out a chair for Phaedra. Phaedra bowed her head to him in thanks and turned to watch the fireworks. The rooftop of the Regency Hotel was the highest vantage point in the city and the perfect place to watch the show, despite the fact that it was more than a mile away from The Palace. Even so, Phaedra looked bored. She always looks bored lately, Tolem thought.

  “Our last night,” Tolem said, unfolding his napkin in his lap.

  “Mm,” Phaedra replied.

  “Ready to be done?”

  “Ready for a change of scenery,” she said. She took a sip of her water and didn’t look his way.

  “You and me both.” Tolem leaned back in his chair. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do once we’re out of here?”

  Phaedra set do
wn her glass and stared at the table in front of her. “Tolem, listen. I’ll be your arm candy one last time. I’ll even let you fuck me later.” She turned her eyes up at him. “But can we please skip the small talk? Just for one night?”

  Tolem tried not to let the disappointment show through his eyes, but he doubted his attempts were successful. “Of course,” he said. They waited for the menus in silence.

  Torg

  The man’s fist was full of dice. As Torg stomped down on it, he did so with the aim of crushing the dice.

  The man, dressed in the silk-covered quiet mail of The Palace guards, started to scream, and immediately three others, all dressed identically, piled on top of him, clamping hands across his mouth. All of them knew the penalty for making noise.

  Lanterns in the tunnels were few and far between, leaving vast, inky gulfs into which Torg could slip unseen. But Torg knew that the three un-maimed men were shaking not because they hadn’t seen him before he struck, but because they hadn’t heard him. One moment, they had been alone in the long, dark, quiet passages, trying to pass their time hiding in the lowest levels of The Palace. The next, Torg was there among them, crippling one of them, and barely making a sound as he did it.

  He twisted his head to one side, cracking the bones in his neck. “No gambling,” he rumbled. “How many times does Torg need to say it to you pretty thugs before it sinks in? Gambling causes hard feelings. Hard feelings cause mistrust. Mistrust causes weak teams. And being weak causes Torg to rip your arms and legs off.”

  The man stopped screaming and instead started to sob quietly. One by one, the others took their hands off his mouth. They were the last two pairs of replacement guards—muscular, brown-haired brutes recruited from the streets of Kauleth who matched the face and body type that The Palace recruited for. The lower tunnels were only patrolled sporadically, but occasionally a pair of guards would venture into an area where they shouldn’t have, and Torg would have to step from the shadows and remove them from duty. Afterward, he would send a pair of his own men, identical in every way that mattered, to finish their rounds.