Thieves at Heart (17 page)

“You coulda broke my neck,” she whispered, not wishing to break the sanctity of the quiet bar in the morning, rubbing her elbow with her hand. The man who sat beside her took a breath as if to speak but caught himself, pressing his thin lips together and rubbing his temples with his hands. His sandy blond hair was now streaked with lines of silver and creases had taken their places in the corners of his blue eyes. He took another deep breath, laying his hands primly on the bar top before he spoke, his words even in tone and volume, though his voice shook with what she knew to be anger.

“You should not have stayed out all night by yourself,” was what he said, though she knew he desperately wanted to say more. “I…” He lowered his voice, turning his head slightly towards her, his words coming slightly faster. “I know that I had a bit too much to drink, but you shouldn’t take advantage of that. We were the guests of honor and it was rude of you to go.”

“You were the guest of honor and I didn’t want to sit about, hearing you all rehash the same old bullshit stories I’ve heard too many times to count. I wanted to have some fun.”

“Fun, eh? Did you have your fun with the same playmate as you did two nights ago? Or was it your old pally from last week?” So this was it. The girl turned her head sharply towards him, still keeping her voice down though the air around them seemed hot with their anger.

“So now it’s out,” she said, almost hissing, the sleep snapped away from her eyes by her ire. “You know what I’ve been up to and you’re mad as piss about it. You’re just mad cause you thought coming here would keep me from doing it and it didn’t work.”

“We came here ‘cause a third of the town burned to the ground and the pickings were slim,” he said, disbelief at the girl’s logic ringing in his voice. “Granted, I thought you’d wait to know the local idiots at least a month before your pants came flying off but I see I was mistaken. And what have I told you about wearing britches in public? It ain’t lady like and it’ll attract attention, it will.”

“I like wearing pants when I’m about, Pa,” she said, glad the conversation turned away from the previous topic. She saw the smug look on her father’s face as he brought it close to hers, his eyes hard and his breath hot and sour.

“Yes, you must have at least a bit of a challenge for them, make them wait at least as long as it takes to get them around your ankles.” Tavera couldn’t believe he had just said that to her and for a moment her mouth just popped open and shut, like a fish out of water. She wanted to hit him, she wanted to curse at him and cause a scene but all their arguments were like this: quiet and keen and close. The young woman looked away from him. She knew he had already seen the tears in her eyes and she knew he was sorry for what he said, as good a jab as it had been.

“Look at you, judging me,” she said quietly. “You’ve got a set on you, ain’t yah? And here I am, knowing when Hale the jeweler’s gonna be out of town on business. What’ve you got? The shits and an hangover from too much dark ale. You’ve some nerve, pushing the morals you’ve picked and chosen on me, pissing all over me when you’re the one who dragged me through the streets. Y’know, I ain’t stupid. I could’ve taken up a different profession and maybe done well at it.”

“Maybe you could’ve, but you’ve the heart of a thief, girl. Anything you put your hand to, you’d have wound up taking wrongfully and been on your way. Don’t you see that? You’re lucky I got you when I did or you’d be in the clacks.” He took in a deep breath, resting his head in his hand as he looked over the girl, her back straight and her eyes avoiding his. “Come now,” he said softly, lowering his head as he spoke. “You say you know when Hale’ll be out, do you?”

“Oh well this is dovey,” she hissed, getting up from her chair. “It ain’t right to pick up loose change, ‘cept when it adds up to a fullie, is it? Chew Her hems, I’m leaving.”

Her father sat up straight in his chair, neither anger nor greed in his voice, “What about breakfast? You need to eat.”

“Toss off,” she called back, not bothering to turn around. Tavera strode out of the bar and onto the street, the road considerably more busy that it had been just a while ago. Her face felt hot and her own angry thoughts muffled the sounds of the city waking up. Just who did he think he was, telling her what to do and then making it okay if it suited his purposes? It was worse than prostitution! A thief she was, or rather a “thiefling,” according to the others they mostly dealt with. She’d been running around in Derk’s shadow for almost seven years now and still, she was ‘Derk’s Kiffer.’ She got more respect from the no-talented hacks that preyed upon the sick, poor and stupid than the people who practiced thievery as an art form, the people she was supposedly being taught to emulate, the ones she sided with most.

How she felt after a ‘take’ proved that she was one of them and not a thug. Tavera relished in the careful planning of the procedure, the consideration of time and place. She looked over and cared for her tools more lovingly than a surgeon cared for his saws and scalpels. The feel of coin or a pretty token in her hand was magnified by the pride she felt by having something she contrived go well. Tavera was in her element when something that did not belong to her was in her hands.

But she didn’t understand why it was wrong to be herself, why there were laws meant to bar her from expressing herself in the way she best saw fit. If people had destinies as the temple folk always said and if her destiny was to be a thief, like Derk and in truth, her heart said, why was the fear of the Jugs pushed upon her as a deterrent? Derk said the fear of the Jugs would keep her good at what she did, and it did. She hadn’t been apprehended once though she had been chased a few times. All that running Derk made her do when they were in the country came in handy. If people should fulfill their destinies, who decided if one destiny was good and left to unfold while another should be snuffed out or punished?

Her boots stopped as they found themselves in front of the Temple of the Full Moon. Her adopted mother always went to the temple when she had had a bad day and needed to collect her thoughts while Derk tended to turn his eyes towards the altar for blessings before carrying out larger plans. The temple was open, though the front doors were closed presently, the front steps empty of beggars and children at the moment. Tavera pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face before starting towards the temple.

“Velida?” Tavera looked around to see who was calling out, her eyes widening as they fell upon a blond, handsome young man who was looking directly at her. Velida was the name she was giving in this town, her real name and handle not an option if she wanted to make good on an escape. She tried to remember his name quickly and anything she might have told him, seeming to remember that he was a new recruit to the town guard and that his name was Loren. His name was important but his occupation would probably prove more fruitful in the near future.

“Lori!” she cried, using a more familiar form of his name, laughing inwardly as he actually blushed. Now she remembered him. He had been standing with a few other young men around his age and they were all snickering as they pointed and talked, too far for her to listen unless she tried. Tavera focused her attention on the young man, smiling primly once he reached her, dodging a cart full of chickens to get across the street. “Nice t’see you. What are you doing on this end of town?”

“Oh, I’m just here with a few of the boys after morning training,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. He had hair the color of corn and faint freckles, his face as honest as a child and his eyes as bright. He was new to the guard and the city, having joined to save money for a home of his own in whatever backwoods farming village he was from. Tavera knew he liked her and while he wasn’t stupid, he was as naive as they came. The young man was very handsome and as he smiled helplessly at her, she almost felt guilty for standing as close as she was to him. He put his hands in his pockets, looking her up and down, his hazel eyes filled with curiosity as they fell upon her legs. “Why’re you wearing britches?”

“Oh, both my dresses got dirty, one after the other and as they’re both in the wash, I had to make do with these. Pardon my shabby appearance!” she said, trying to seem ashamed of her clothes. Boys like him were quick to pay compliments when fished for and if she could endear herself to him and stroke her ego at the same time, why not?

“You look fine in britches, Velida, really. It’s just a strange thing to see a woman in ‘em and a stranger thing to see a woman look good in ‘em.” He smiled, proud he had managed to come up with such a phrase and was rewarded with another smile from the half-elf girl. He relaxed slightly, ignoring the hoots his fellows were making behind him, looking at the temple that stood just a few yards away. “You goin’ in for worship? I didn’t know you were a regular.”

“Ah, yeah, well, it’s something I do when I’ve had a rough bit, though it’s smoothed out consid-erably since I got here.” Now she was going to stroke his ego, smiling as his cheeks reddened again and he stood up straight, his hands crossing over his chest, his hair flowing behind him in the breeze. For a moment Tavera almost felt embarrassed by how handsome he was, how intently his eyes were fixed on her and not her pants…did he actually like her? He couldn’t like her, Tavera; he didn’t know Tavera at all and if he did, as a guard and as good as he was, he would most likely arrest her. For the first time in a long while she actually felt uncomfortable in front of someone and her browned face reddened, breaking the intense gaze they had locked.

“Look, I’ve got to be getting inside…morning prayers are about to start,” she said, looking everywhere but at him, taking steps backwards and hoping he wouldn’t follow.

“Of course,” he said, putting his hands up, seeming embarrassed that he had kept her from her devotions. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, her stomach feeling as if it had a hundred fish swimming inside of it. Was he just going to go? Why did it matter? She knew where he kept guard and knew when he was most likely to be there. Why had seeing him on the street like this flustered her so? She felt like she was going to throw up, spinning on her heel and heading as quickly as she could towards the temple.

“Hold on,” she heard, her ear pricking up, finding herself facing him once more. He turned his head to the side as something had suddenly caught his eye before saying, “D’yah think perhaps I could see you another time…like, in the evening? If you were thirsty?”

Tavera thought of a few snotty ways to brush him off and a few coy ways to tell him yes, but none of them seemed right. The bell that signaled morning prayers rang in the Temple of the Full Moon, several other people on the street starting to make their way into the white washed building. “Look, I’ve gotta…I’ll…I’ll find you later, right? You have third watch? At the Sheep Gate?”

“Right” he said, his eyebrows raised as if impressed that she remembered, nodding and smiling to himself. “Right, well…see you then.”

“Right, yeah….” She couldn’t think of anything to say so she turned around and ran up the steps, weaving between other would-be worshipers to get into the temple as quickly as possible. The priestess was already at the dais, silver chalice in hand, her face calm and as round as the full moon, her silver dress tightly laced so that her breasts seemed to almost spill out of the garment.

It wasn’t fair, she couldn’t help but think as she bowed her head staring down at her own chest. If she had breasts like those she could use half as many words and a quarter as many promises to get men to pay her mind. At least you’ll know it’s not just their eyes that like you, Derk would say. She didn’t want them to like her, she wanted them to want her so she could get information quicker than the others so she could get the take before they did. A fine rack would have come in handy but that she lacked so she made up for it with a pretty face, slick words and promises of things to come. But that boy outside…the priestess had raised the chalice now and was speaking the prayer, invoking the goddess to turn her eyes towards her people, her pale hands gripping the silver cup, the scant sunlight glinting off of it…was it really made of pure silver?

Tavera cursed herself, pushing thoughts of taking the sacred cup aside, reminding herself of its role, of what might befall the temple and the worshipers if the consecrated item was missing. She really was a thief through and through, more than she was a worshiper of the goddess of the moon or a girl to take out for beers or someone to spend an evening with, or at least a few moments.

Should she go out with that boy who watched the gates? The priestess lowered the chalice, beckoning the worshipers to come forward, the bodies shuffling out of the pews and queuing in the main aisle. Tavera bit her lip as she approached, keeping her head down and her eyes closed as she moved forward, trying to keep her mind focused on her prayers and the task to come. Should she go out with Lori?

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the alter and looked towards the priestess. The priestess’ face was calm to the point of seeming unnatural, her grey eyes emotionless, her face as steady as a bust of marble. Tavera kept her eyes locked with the priestess, the goddess’ avatar on earth, dipping her fingers into the chalice, bringing it to her forehead and then placing her wet fingers into the bowl that lay on the altar. She knew the goddess answered in riddles so she didn’t think of any questions as she placed the tips of her fingers in the bowl, the fingers that had stolen many things over the last few years. She instead laid to rest that which she wanted to strike from herself, as she was supposed to do.

Her strange new emotions for Loren, she left in the bowl. Her contempt for the other members of the Cup who didn’t yet accept her as one of their own. And her wanton ways that made her father give her looks that distressed her…she lifted her fingers from the bowl, which was full of strange, grey sand, not bothering to wipe the odd powder from her fingers as she returned to her seat. The rest of the congregation filed through, performing the same ritual. When the last worshiper had performed the rite, the priestess spoke the words Tavera was glad to hear, raising the chalice above her head and tipping it, the liquid contents of the chalice streaming down in a silver ribbon, the contents of the bowl inundated with the libation. A bell rang from somewhere within the building and the priestess spoke, her voice low and even.