Starwatch Page 6

  “According to you,” asserted Maylene. “But that’s one hell of a gambit. What if the bloody things are made from tin rather than iron?”

  “We aren’t pinching these from street performers. The troupe won’t have skimped on outfits.”

  “It seems to me the wild card in all this is Lord Talivin himself.” Cyriana dusted crumbs from her palms and fetched an unclaimed goblet. “House guards are cowering ninnies when faced with legionaries, but an Asdori lord is a different breed. Thorkell, you’re the only one in this room who can attest to the man’s reputation. I want your honest opinion on how he would react to commands from a Draugan officer.”

  “With veiled indignation I suspect, but he’s no fool. Nobles deride and mock their occupiers, but only while in the comfort of fellow natives. Talivin won’t jeopardize his fortune, title or estate by mouthing off. He’ll save that for afternoon tea and strumpets with other moneyed folks. The bluster will come when he’s safe from reprisal and we’ve fled the city.”

  “Tell me about the theater itself.”

  “Gods help me,” muttered Maylene.

  “Ah, that’s the appealing part. The wardrobe isn’t stored at the theater. Nothing is. That venue is strictly for performances.” Thorkell sipped wine, purring in contentment. “The troupe practices and maintains all their costumes and props elsewhere. Used to be a quaint inn until one enterprising band of players earned a fortune and purchased the land outright to convert into their own private rehearsal space. Maylene could slink in while drunk and singing ballads. Our lone obstacle is that the actors board there. I feel the need to assume outwitting a handful of sleeping thespians won’t unduly tax our abilities though.”

  “Unless some happen to be awake reciting lines and gesticulating.”

  “There are no performances scheduled for two weeks, my dear. No mummers will be conscious through morning’s wee hours until closer to the date.”

  Desin lifted a finger and frowned. “Might be I’m pointing out the obvious, but there aren’t no Shiylans in the legions. Ain’t any nobles dumb enough to believe I’m Draugan.”

  “And that’s why you won’t be participating,” Cyriana explained. “You’ll lend a hand for the theft and then retreat into the shadows. Four of us donning armor will have to be enough.”

  “Eurus is not governed by the Empire either,” stated Baskaran. “My presence might likewise endanger the ruse.”

  “Nonsense. Eurus is a few days’ sail off the coast. It’s conceivable you left home and enrolled in the legions. I even saw a Eurote woman serving in Elarenth one time with the Fourteenth. No one with two legs and a pulse gets turned away from the legions.”

  “Lord Talivin won’t have the presence of mind to question one face,” Thorkell added. “Not while I distract him with a flawless performance worthy of accolades.”

  “You sound oddly eager considering the dangers of this plot,” said Baskaran.

  “Why wouldn’t I? This will be thoroughly enjoyable.”

  He glanced toward Cyriana with a bemused countenance. “This is a curious team you’ve assembled.”

  “When someone is the best at what they do, you have to allow for a certain amount of conceit to creep in. I wouldn’t say it contributes to his charm, but there’s no dislodging it.”

  “Wait until you meet Eloran,” Maylene murmured.

  “Thorkell, comb through your cosmetics and frilly sundresses,” Cyriana instructed. “I need you to conjure someone else by sunrise.”

  “Delightful. Perhaps I’ll be Alcedonian on this occasion. I’ve always been partial to the name Dalvin Crouchback.”

  “You should be Dalvin Lackingcock.”

  “Shut up, Maylene.”

  “Honestly, I don’t care,” Cyriana announced. “Tomorrow you’ll grace this theater troupe with your presence. You’re newly arrived in Ercora and looking to sponsor an admired company. Have the owner conduct a tour and convince him you have an insatiable interest. You spent your childhood loving the great Asdori playwrights or some other bullshit. Get him talkative and he’ll be keen to brag about every nook in a quest to lock down another investor. Specifically request to see the wardrobe and learn whatever you can.”

  “That hardly sounds like an adequate usage for my brazen talents,” bemoaned Thorkell. “Can I con him into giving me a loan for services I have no intention of rendering?”

  “No. You’re not hoodwinking a soul until I okay the notion. And keep your grubby fingers to yourself while there.”

  “I shall be on my most dignified manners.”

  “Darn right you will,” Cyriana warned. “We’ll re-evaluate this masterful proposal tomorrow evening following your summary. Unless an unanticipated conundrum smacks us in the face, we’ll plan to conduct our deed the subsequent night and give Lord Talivin a scare the next.”

  “In the interim I feel the need for another fish. Devising fictional personages gets my appetite going.”

  “By all means splurge on seafood. Not like it’s our coins you’re spending. Fetch some wine while you’re at it. I’m feeling parched.” Cyriana glanced to the others and nodded. “Dismissed.”

  Chapter 5

  Audacity secures greater rewards than any carefully constructed plan ever could. A daring scheme will convince anyone of anything, because too few chaps have the mental capacity to challenge what they see.

  From the Trial of Farien Taerlon, Day 6

  308 Black Ruin, Year of the Tangled Glade

  2 Kilessin

  Cyriana gnawed tender chicken off a bone and raised her head as Maylene entered the chamber. “Done?”

  “The innkeeper was most gracious when I slipped him silver.” She lifted a slender brass key and spun it between her fingertips. “Even gave me this so we could let ourselves in after the place is closed and locked in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “Such a considerate fellow, concerning himself with our well-being.”

  “It’s a rare man who’s immune to generous bribery.”

  “Or a suggestive wink. The world will be a harsher place for the likes of us if their gender ever develops a shred of smarts.”

  Baskaran paused amid oiling his rapier and scowled. “We’re all in earshot, lass.”

  “Ask me if I care.” Cyriana spat a bone morsel onto the plate and picked between her teeth with one fingernail. “Thorkell, time to put my mind at ease. You do know enough about Draugan laws to make this whole ploy feasible, yes? What they can and can’t do to society’s affluent blokes. I won’t have you slapping Talivin’s perfumed cheek if an officer wouldn’t dare.”

  “I assure you Einar conducted adequate research before schmoozing with the hoity-toity folks. It’s a necessity for the industrious con artist not wishing to run afoul of legionaries looking for an excuse.”

  “Glad we can leech knowledge off your duck persona.”

  “Naturally. You should never have doubted my foresight.”

  “And if the unlikely scenario arises whereby we’re accosted by actual Draugans?”

  Thorkell paused before a mirror and planted a palm on his chest. “Though I shouldn’t need to say this, allow me to do the talking. We’re soldiers from the Third Cohort of the Twenty-Eighth legion delivering a message. The particulars will stay safely locked in my head to avoid confusing you all. Have faith that I’ve plucked real names from Draugan duty rosters in case we’re questioned by an informed legionary.”

  “A commendable job,” Cyriana conceded. “I withdraw my misgivings.”

  “May I return to character building without inane interruptions expressing skepticism in my performance? You want a convincing Draugan officer tomorrow night and this is a particularly difficult role to assume.”

  “What’s this?” Maylene questioned. “Has the master of masquerade admitted an imperfection? Someone write this down for posterity.”

  “Ah, so regrettably oblivious. Nobility is shamefully easy to impersonate. I only need to act offended by the slightest provo
cation and the ruse is complete. But Lord Talivin has interacted with Draugans his entire adult life, whereas I haven’t. He’ll know how one might react and will see through a lazy attempt if I’m not at my best. Would anyone here enjoy a stabbing because I half-arsed this charade?”

  Baskaran ran a dark finger along the blade length and ceased humming a soft melody. “Speaking as someone who earned respect by avoiding precisely such a fate, I’m willing to permit him adequate rehearsal time.”

  “Even the least likely of our party to succumb to a blade in the gut wants me shipshape. The grouchy ones who stuff metal into key holes don’t get a vote. Do I ever dare to tell you which strangely shaped picks to use, Maylene?”

  “Fine. Return to preening in the mirror, you insufferable swindler.”

  Thorkell swiveled and paced along the far wall reciting words in varying accents.

  Baskaran sheathed his dueling sword, placed it atop a notched table and paced closer. “I don’t believe I know what my duty is during all this. Is it little more than another body in armor?”

  “Nah, that’s the gist of it,” replied Maylene.

  “If nothing goes awry,” Cyriana said, “your only chore is to stand behind us and look menacing. But if the scheme does go straight to hell, we’ll need you engaging the house guards while we bugger off into the night.”

  “How many might there be?”

  “A manor this size owned by a damned wealthy noble with entitlement issues…say about twenty at the most.”

  “I’m beginning to question my sanity after agreeing to this job.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first one,” murmured Desin.

  “Nonsense,” Maylene interjected. “Think how much you’ll both earn in our employ.”

  Baskaran frowned and scratched his brow. “That’s a grand assumption, believing I’ll live through it with tasks like this one.”

  “I think we might have more faith in your skills than you do.”

  “And abruptly I find myself envious of Desin’s role.”

  “You got that right,” the Shiylan replied. “I’m coming back here to get drunk.”

  “You’d better not be,” Cyriana warned. “Or I’ll have Maylene pluck all your hairs while you’re in a stupor.”

  Baskaran glanced in Thorkell’s direction. The false-facer cultivated facial mannerisms and practiced speech inflections while staring into a cloudy mirror. “I know you and Maylene have proficiency in a fracas, but what can the Zyreni offer? Would I be wise trusting him to lend a hand?”

  “Him?” Cyriana asked. “Don’t get your hopes up is my recommendation. His expertise with blades extends only to the point of knowing which end to grasp.”

  “And the general concept of poking,” asserted Maylene. “He gets enough practice with his other, more petite sword.”

  “I thought you were friends with Thorkell,” Baskaran whispered.

  “I am.”

  “You have a curious way of treating the people you care for.”

  “It’s her way of showing affection,” Cyriana affirmed. “When Maylene compares your face to a mule’s arse you’ll have won her heart.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Wait until you see how she treats Eloran. She’s practically in love with the man.”

  “Shut it,” Maylene snarled. “I treat him that way because the man actually pisses me off.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the time,” said Baskaran, “but when might we learn what grand job we were hired for?”

  Desin lifted bare palms and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t look at me. I only know what you do. And that’s less than nothing.”

  “I promise we’ll explain every intricate detail once we’re all together,” Cyriana answered. “We’re concerned with keeping a tight lid on the plan. Until we can be sure you’re all worth our trust.”

  “You’re paranoid even for thieves,” quipped Baskaran.

  “It comes from experience.”

  “When we have the armor,” Desin asked, “do you want me coming back here or going someplace else?”

  “Lounge here. I’d prefer to have you nearby if we’re caught in a tight pinch, but we can’t risk someone spying you in the shadows. Curious stalkers watching legionaries from the bushes tends to raise suspicions. And don’t get drunk. I wasn’t kidding about the hair thing.” Cyriana strode to an open second story window and stared at the tranquil roadway below. Darkness held Ercora in an unyielding grasp while scarce pedestrians strolled the avenue. “You’ll be ready to depart soon, eh Thorkell?”

  “I will if I’m permitted a moment in solitude.”

  “Someone’s cranky as hell,” declared Maylene. “Calm yourself. You don’t even need to play a Draugan until tomorrow evening.”

  “In our mutual profession, those caught unprepared don’t tend to survive long. You’d do well to remember every tenet of wisdom I offer if you ever wish to improve.”

  “And you’d do well to remember you’re in my bloody room right now. Go back to your own if you want to whittle away the night talking to yourself and being flippant.”

  “Another month of this charming repartee to look forward to,” groaned Baskaran. “What a treat.”

  Maylene turned to face the duelist with her face scrunched in disagreement. “A month? We’ll be damned lucky if we pull off our heist in only a month. More likely two or three.”

  Cyriana grinned at the pained expression that crossed Baskaran’s face. “Enough banter. Finish last minute chores and eat if you’re still hungry. We leave in an hour.”

  *

  Cyriana crouched beneath a ruddy brick wall sprouting vines and motioned the others closer. Moon and starlight shone through wispy clouds stretching across inky sky. “Do your thing, Maylene.”

  “Can I say once again how stupid I think this entire plan is?”

  “Sure you can. But I’m still ignoring you.”

  “Figures,” Maylene muttered. “Thorkell, care to help a gal out?”

  “Truly? I’ve spied you scale grander walls than this. Quit being lazy and mount the damn thing.”

  “And thus chivalry dies a tragic death. I always knew it wasn’t in vogue these days. But don’t come to me next time you need buttons fastened or your hair colored because you’re self-conscious about graying.”

  “Fine. If only because it’ll get you over the wall and beyond my hearing sooner.”

  Thorkell squatted and boosted Maylene until she grabbed hold and pulled herself the remaining distance. Her silhouetted figure darted along the wall for a moment, disappearing into blanketing shadows. One quaint roadway stretched down gentle hills dotted with mulberry trees toward a cityscape flooded in lamplight. Originally constructed as a quiet retreat from congested Ercora, the inn’s seclusion meant no passersby were likely to spoil their infiltration. A considerable relief to Cyriana’s mind, given the amateurs accompanying her and Maylene.

  Their most talented burglar reappeared and offered a brief wave. “Coast is clear,” she whispered.

  Cyriana planted a boot into Thorkell’s entwined hands and shimmied to grasp Maylene’s outstretched arm. The Asdori woman yanked Cyriana high enough to swing a leg over the wall and scamper atop. She pivoted on rough stone, reaching down alongside Maylene to heave Desin higher with cloth sacks draped over his shoulders. Once he perched beside her, Cyriana shoved off the wall and dropped noiselessly to plush grass below. Maylene hunkered a moment later, followed by the less graceful men.

  “Infiltrating an inn converted to a rehearsal salon,” Maylene whispered. “Our most daring exploit to date. The bards will craft a song about this one day. Once I’ve adequately embellished the tale, of course. How many guards did we need to fight our way past?”

  “No less than a dozen,” added Thorkell. “I manhandled two with my bare hands.”

  “Pay attention, you damned fools,” Cyriana hissed. “Con man, if you please.”

  “Right, right.” He lifted a
finger and silently motioned as though consulting a crude map. Finally his dainty hand jabbed toward a winding cobblestone pathway. “Follow the fork rightward and it’ll meet a locked service entrance adjacent to the inn’s kitchen. Unroll your sketchy tools, Maylene. Your time to shine.”

  “From this point on no more flapping your mouths,” instructed Cyriana. “I want beautiful silence unless I say otherwise. I’m more likely to slice out an errant tongue than politely request quiet.”

  Thorkell raised his thumb and set off at a brisk trot along the meandering trail, passing lawn sculptures and marble statuary. Cyriana eyed an exaggerated thespian flanked by orchids lifting robed hands skyward. The inn crowned a sloping hillock, where one solitary door waited between shuttered windows.

  Maylene withdrew rolled cloth from a pocket and crouched on cobbles. She placed her treasure trove on the ground and unfurled fabric to reveal seven picks and two feather touch torsion wrenches. Retrieving one pick and a torsion wrench, Maylene knelt forward and inserted her tools. Cyriana leaned against a wall and crossed her arms, listening to faint scraping from the lock. Maylene swapped picks twice before a final click sounded and she turned the doorknob. Cyriana shoved off the wall while Maylene rolled her kit once again and opened the entry.

  Dim candlelight spilling from one bracketed sconce illumined a hallway. Thorkell tapped Cyriana on the arm and indicated toward a doorway leading downward. As he discovered during his walking tour, the theater company kept costumes used for current productions on the main floor, whereas wardrobe storage was relegated to the basement. Ever hopeful for further investors, the troupe’s owner was even kind enough to lead Thorkell down.

  Cyriana motioned for Baskaran and thrust a forefinger at the wavering sconce. He crept forward carrying a lantern, opened the glass and withdrew an unlit candle. Touching the wick to gentle flame, he placed burning wax back into his lantern and shrouded it with black cloth. Thorkell cracked the squeaking door ajar and they slipped through into a blackened veil.