Thieves at Heart (16 page)

She was returning from the temple where the priestesses had moved a statue of the goddess outside, the grey clad women standing around and accepting donations of money, food and other things, the surplus of the season going to the temple in thanks to the White Breasted One. Even the statue of the goddess and the priestesses were not exempt from the buckets of water, water dripping down the white, clay folds of her garments. Some of the priestesses were drenched while the dry ones looked at the wet ones enviously. The day was sweltering and all the open windows and door didn’t help to dispel the heat of the grips of people pressed against each other, dancing, singing, drinking, groping.

All the inns were full to capacity for the holiday and she and Derk had been staying in a common room with a dozen other people, the sleeping habits of strangers and the excitement for the holiday having made it difficult to go to sleep the previous night. But this morning’s sleepiness was chased away by good cheer and she slapped a blueie on the counter, the bartender offering her a pitcher of the the weak beer everyone drank in great volumes today. She shook her head and mouthed what she wanted and the bartender put a hand to his ear, leaning forward to try and hear her. She shouted her order and he nodded, reaching behind the bar for a glass and the green bottle that held the liquor she was seeking. The liquor itself was green and it sparkled as he poured it. Tavera reached over with both hands and wrapped her fingers around it, pushing her way past the people to the staircase in the back that went down to the basement.

The noise in the basement didn’t match the din upstairs but it was just as hot and smokier. Card tables were set up and people were betting money, pieces of fabric, thread, dried goods, anything they had that was acceptable to the other players. She looked around, the smoke from the pipes swirling before the light the lanterns gave off. Men and women were playing and kissing and cursing and singing. Derk had been here when he had cut her loose and she thought she would find him here again, but her eyes found nothing but strangers. A face she recognized brought her over to the table and she couldn’t help but gaze at the man’s cards.

“Where’s my pa?” she asked. The man arranged his cards and threw in two blessed candles from the Holy Bowl, a good bet indeed.

“Who, the yellow haired hem chewer who took me for ten fullies and five lengths of ribbon? Are the ribbons for you, girl?” The balding man looked up at her, his beard crawling across his face like a rash. “I suppose not. Hair like a boy. Tits like one too.”

“D’you know where he is or don’t you?” she shot, annoyed. He laughed and threw down two cards and picking up another two.

“He left a bit ago, someone gave him a whisper and he got a stony face and shot off. Now, be gone with you, girl!”

Tavera glowered at him, glad Derk had beat him at cards. Still. “He’s got three wings,” she said to the rest of the table, turning and rushing out before the man could get a hold of her, the sound of chairs overturning and cursing clamoring behind her as she laughed, bolting up the stairs. She pushed her way through the crowd, glad she was tall. Her last growth spurt had put her of a height with Derk though he outweighed her by quite a bit. A hand grabbed her chest and she held her drink over her head as she made her way out, glad to get a lungful of cooler, fresh air. The noise of the outdoor revelries carried up to the sky and Tavera took a sip of her drink. It was herbal and slightly bitter, but good.

Her feet carried her to the temple. It was the only place Derk would find to think if he was in a serious mood. Regardless of the type of worship the day required, temples were always quiet, a place for prayer and contemplation. Tavera barely missed being drenched by a bucket of water as she turned a corner, almost spilling her drink but she dodged the spray of water intended for someone else. The white steps shone in the distance and she poured the rest of her drink at the feet of the statue of the goddess, smiling at the stained figure before she took the steps in twos, looking around for Derk.

He was sitting by himself to the far left, his blond hair unmistakable to the girl. Other people were praying at the altar, a couple ready to take their vows of loyalty there with the ribbon for the priestess to bless. Tavera reached the aisle and slid down the length of the wooden pew on her knees, drawing a disapproving scowl from her father.

His blue eyes were bloodshot. Derk had been crying though he wasn’t now. His prayer beads lay laced through his fingers and he bowed his head. For a second Tavera thought he was going back to praying but he squeezed in close next to her and he sighed. “Hock is dead.”

“What?” Tavera’s mouth dropped open slightly and she looked forward, letting the news sink in. “I’m…I’m sorry, pa.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Derk said, shrugging. His face looked tired, the lines at the corners of his eyes looking deeper, darker. “Nobody killed him. He had a chest pain and…then he couldn’t breath. And he died. No knife. No rope. Not even from catching a bad chill.” Derk shook his head and looked sad, the saddest she had ever seem him look and it made Tavera uncomfortable. He sucked snot up through his nose and wiped his face with his sleeve, the beads glinting in the light. His blue eyes looked not only sad but confused, Tavera saw.

Hock had been his mentor but also his leader, the unofficial leader of The Cup. Questions shone in his eyes as well as grief and he stared down at his hands, looking to Tavera’s. Derk forced a smile, a rather pathetic one. “At least his last take was a good one. The spice bit. That was good, Tavi.” His hands reached for hers and she let him take them, wrapping his fingers through them. “Tavera, you must promise me something.”

“What, pa?” The beads from the rosary dug into her skin and his grip was tight. He held her hands tighter still and he lowered his voice so that she had to lean in to hear it.

“Promise me now, in front of the goddess that if something should happen to me…if I should be caught by guards or a lord or anyone…you will not come for me.”

“What?”

“Promise me,” he whispered. “I didn’t pluck you from that woman, I didn’t raise you in my eyesight, share my bed, my food, my secrets, my friends…for you to wind up in jail besides me. I would die if that happened, Tavi. My heart would tear in two.”

“Derk, you won’t get caught, you can’t-”

“Tavi, it could happen. Everyone makes mistakes. And sometimes things just…they just happen.” He sighed wearily and he kissed her on the cheek, a dry, fatherly kiss that made tears well up in her eyes. “Please, Tavi. Promise.”

Tavera swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the quiver that threatened her voice and she nodded, focusing on the pain of the beads digging into her skin. “I promise, Derk. I’ll always be your girl. And if it happens…I’ll keep on being your girl.” It was hard to say and the words tried not to come but they did. The relief in Derk’s face made it worth it. He let go of her hands finally, pulling her to lay on his shoulder. He smelled like tobacco smoke and beer and sweetsleep and he played with her hair, careful not to expose her ear. Her tears drained away and she looked up at the goddess that stood before them indoors, her black hands offering abundance to her worshipers. “What now? With the Cup?” she asked.

She felt his shoulder shrug under her head, his free hand playing with the beads of his rosary, more for something to do than out of piety. “Everyone will stumble around for a bit. There’ll be some arguments. But eventually everyone will come together again. Someone will rise above the others and take the lead. Same as always.”

“Maybe you?” Tavera said, turning her head to look up at him. Derk turned his head to look at her and snorted with laughter. It made a priestess look to them and he mouthed an apology, keeping his chuckles in his chest so that Tavera felt them under her head.

“If you love your pa you’ll never wish that on me,” he said. “No, someone else. Luckily I was on the upswing when he left. It could have gone badly for us. No, I won’t ever be the head but I can be on a shoulder. In good graces. I think we’re there now.” He smiled at her and mussed her hair which made her make a face. They sat there in the temple for a while, breathing in the incense and listening to the chimes when she felt Derk draw in his breath before he spoke again. “You slept with Lights?”

Tavera’s body stiffened slightly and Derk had his answer. He breathed out his disappointment in one long sigh and Tavera sat up, keeping her eyes on the altar. “It’s not a big deal,”she said. “You sleep with Old Gam all the time.”

“I…what?” He opened his mouth to yell it but he kept his voice down, the sanctity of the church relegating him to a hiss. “I occasionally keep company with Old Gam, when we cross paths. And I’ve known Old Gam longer than you’ve been alive.”

“We don’t know how long I’ve been alive so that might not be true.”

“You are…you are missing the point.” Derk said, as quietly as he could though there was anger in his voice. “I don’t want you starting to do this, not now. And not within the Cup.”

“Me and Lights aren’t in the Cup yet,” Tavera pointed out. It made Derk give her an angry look but she cut him off again. “Besides, we’re both in the same spot. It’s nice to have fun with a…a friend. A real one.”

Derk laughed, a sardonic laugh that made heat rise in her cheeks. “Okay, Tavi. You tell yourself that. He’s your friend. Not another thief looking to get the upper hand on you, looking out for himself or Shot. I’m offering you the easy answer, trying to guide you to a good decision.”

“How d’you know I wasn’t trying to get something from him?” Tavera narrowed her eyes at him and Derk just stared at her for a breath before he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“This is not the conversation I want to be having right now.” Derk was about to put the rosary around his neck but he hesitated, looking to his daughter. He put it around her neck and kissed her on the cheek again. It was so chaste it made her face hot again and she let the rosary slip over her head, feeling the carved goddess bead slip over her skin and between her breasts. “Remember what we talked about, please,” he said, waving her away. “It’s a holy day. Go. Have fun. For me.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, grinning. Derk smiled, not as big as she would have liked but it was something.

“No. Yes. I mean,” he said, rubbing his face again, shooing her away finally. “Go. You shouldn’t be sad today. I shouldn’t be but I am. So be happy for us both. You know what I’d be doing. Just…remember we’re leaving at the end of second watch tomorrow.” He said the last bit too loud and several priestesses quieted him with a stern look, Derk bowing his head in response. Tavera turned and bowed her head as she ducked out, realizing she left her cup in the temple. She shrugged inwardly. The priestesses would clean the temple tomorrow and return the cups to the bars. If they only had to deal with empty cups, it would be a blessing.

Music rang through the air and laughter seemed to come from around every corner, splashes of water and light fighting the heat and darkness of the evening. The full moon rose in the sky, seeming to glow down approvingly at her children’s revelries. Tavera tried to smile, but the sober conversation she had just had with Derk kept her steps slow and her mouth from smiling. Hock had died. One day Derk would die or wind up in prison and she would be left alone. Derk had her and the Cup to fall back on, Old Gam, Jezlen when he was around. Her grip on the Cup was tenuous at best and everyone else she knew…Tavera shook her head. Derk was young and while he did do things in excess, he didn’t indulge to the point that Hock had. Derk was still active and never complained, hardly getting sick though when he did he was an absolute child.

She smiled remembering the last time he was sick, how pathetic he had been, making Tavera make him tea in just the right way or he couldn’t drink it. He’d be around for a while. Tonight they were both alive and Tavera was young. Her eyes fastened on a boy with dark hair and dimples and she smiled to herself, following him to where two roads met, a trio of musicians playing music and townspeople dancing in time. The boy walked over to another young man who had a jug of what could only be wine and she sat down next to him and smiled. The dark haired boy smiled back, his arm quickly wrapping around her waist. He wasn’t a thief, she said to herself. She was. Tavera would steal a dance and maybe a bit more in the name of the goddess tonight and since the girl and the deity were the only ones who knew about it, so be it.

CHAPTER 8

Growing Pains

As the tavern door creaked open, her body barely filled half of the frame, the light from the street having no trouble getting past her as she entered. It was early but the tavern was open for first meal, the smell of yeast and coals filling her nostrils as she inhaled deeply. It was obvious that she was tired. The slender girl walked over to the closest bar stool and promptly set herself on it, laying her head down on the bar top and closing her eyes as she waited for someone to notice she was there so she could ask for some food.

The onset of adolescence had seemed to breathe life into the exotic features of the elves, though it was tempered by the human blood that also ran in her veins. Her hair was dark and cut short, its length barely able to cover her face and carelessness allowing a slightly pointed ear to poke its way through the shorn tresses. Her other ear was a distinguishing feature that was best kept hidden. The pink flesh running completely straight was testament to an injury sustained quite some time ago but was now at least physically healed. Instead of the skirts most women wore she wore dark britches, cuffed at the ends to keep them out of the muck, her other clothes seeming to be men’s clothes altered slightly to better suit her body. In truth, from afar she was often mistaken for a man but her face was pretty and definitely feminine. Her large, full mouth parted slightly, a low snore emitting from her nose.

The sound of booted feet didn’t disturb her, nor was she woken by the stool next to her being dragged so that someone could sit on it. Only when the same booted foot hooked itself on her seat and pulled it out from under her did she notice and even then, she was too late to make a graceful recovery. She cursed out loud, her dark angry eyes tinged with sleep as well as a touch of fear. No one in the bar looked or paid any mind, the few scant patrons too tired or drunk from last nights endeavors to care.