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It was always the children who were the biggest threats.
Itdidn’tmatterwhethertheywereorcs,dwarves,gnomesorhumans,Chancehadlongagolearnedthattheonlythingthathadtheabilitytosneakuponhimwasachild.
Therewasonestandingrightnowinthehallway–ahumanone–perhapssixorsevenyearsold,dressedinalong,whitebedgownandwithherstraw-blondhair,freshlybrushed,drapedoverbothshoulders.Shelookedup,unblinkingly,atChance,withlarge,darkeyes.
Staringwasconsideredbysomehyrrinxtobeanactofaggression.Chancehadneverhadtimeforthat,thoughhedidfeelaninstinctiveresponse,burieddeep,tothelittlegirl’sobservation.Itmadehim stare back.
“Kitty,”thelittlegirlsaid,slowlyandseriously.
“Perhaps,”Chancerepliedsoftly,tryingnottofeeloffendedatthecomparison.Herealizedhistailwasswayingbackandforth,anddidhisbesttoquelltheanxiousmovement.
“Kitty…wantsthejar?”thegirlwenton,aconfusednoteenteringhervoice.
Chancehadfrozeninthehallwaythemomentsawthegirlstaringathim.Thatmeanthewasstillclutchingtheornate,goldenLorimorvase,whichhe’djuststartedtoraisedelicatelyfromitsplinth.
“Kittywantsthejar,”heconfirmed,hisearstwitching.Thegirlfrownedandpointed.
“Kittyshouldnotsteal!Stealingisbad!”
Chancebaredhisfangs,theflashoffrustrationinvisiblebehindtheleathermaskthatcoveredhismuzzle.
“Whatif…kittyonlywantedtoborrowit,”hesuggested,tryingtocomeupwithawaytomakethe girl go back to bed.
CHANCEROBBIE MACNIVEN
“Wouldhavetoaskpapa,”thegirlsaid,stoicallyfoldingherarms.“Helikesthetwojarsverymuch.”
“I’msurehedoes,”Chancesaid.Thetwoantiqueshadbeenvalued–byanexperiencedcollector,whilebeingthreatenedbyseveraloftheOutlawPrince’senforcers–atasumofoverfivehundredcrowns.Betweenthem,theywerethemostexpensiveitemsownedbyLucasBrezer,partofafortuneacquiredbyanillicittradenetworkthatranfromLorimorinthesouth-westtoThelgriminthenorth-east.
TheOutlawPrincehaddemandedthatthevasesberevalued,inperson.ThatwaswhyChanceandTalihadbeendispatchedtotheBrezermanseinthedeadofnight.Theywereantiquehunting.
Chanceslowlybegantolowerthevasebackontoitsplinth.Thelittlegirl,presumablyBrezer’sdaughter,noddedsternlyashedidso.
“Goodkitty,”shesaid.
Chancewasabouttosuggestthatwasn’tespeciallythecase,whenheheardascream,ringingthroughthemansefromsomewherefurtherupstairs.
It was Tali.
Inandout,niceandfast.ThatwaswhatTalihadsaid.They’dgoneovertheplanadozentimesbeforetonight,evenrehearsedpartsofitintheabandonedwarehousedownbytheRivengatepartoftheOutlawPrince’sholdings.Tali,ashort,scrappyhumanwho’dbeenraisedamongstthePrince’sarmyofthieves,hadworkedwithChancebeforeonanumberofheists,thoughnonethisbig.ShewasolderthanChance,moreexperienced,afactthatthePrincehadhighlightedwhenhe’dgiventhemtheassignment.
“Fortunaalwaysblessesmewithgoodluck,”hehadsaid.“AndIinturnpassafractionofthatluckontoyou,Chance.Youwillneedit.Yoursuccesseshavebeentoo…precariousoflate.Taliwillkeepyouright.Defertoherasyouwouldtome.”
“Youknowhetalksdowntoyouonpurpose?”Talihadtoldhimlater,asthetwoofthemhadpouredovermapsoftheBrezermanseinthewarehouse’sshadows.
“Whodoes?”Chancehadasked,surprisedbythesuddenchangeoftact.
“TheOutlawPrince,”Talisaid,hervoicemoreearnestthanhewasusedto.“Icouldn’tpulloffhalfthestuntsI’veseenyoudosinceyoujoinedus.ForgetFortuna,you’rethebestthiefI’veeverseen.”
Chance’searshadflickedwithamusement.
“Don’ttakemeforafool,”hehadwarned.“ForallIknow,thePrincemighthavetoldyoutotellmethat,asatest.”
Talihadraisedherhands.“He’sawareofalotlessthanyoumightthink,Chance.He’snotall-powerful.”
Chancehadofferedasmallshrug,ahumanaffectationhe’dpickedupoffTali.
“WithouthimI’dhavenothing,”he’dsaid.
“That’swhathetellsyou,isn’tit?”
“Sometimes,”hehadallowed,notwantingtodwellonit.“Canwejustgetonwiththeplan?”
“Theplanissimple,”Talihadsaidwithasmile.“Inandout,niceandfast.”
“Thief’shonor?”Chancehadasked.ItwasoneoftheOutlawPrince’smanymottos,anoxymoronsupposedtopromote‘good’practiceamonghisunderlings–aneffectivethiefwouldalwaysprioritizethetargetoveranythingelse.
“Ifitcomesdowntoit,”Talihadsaid.“Thief’shonor.”
Tali’sscreamalmostmadeChancedropthevase.Heplaceditbackonitspedestal,glancingquicklyatthesmallgirl.Sheremainedrootedtothespot,thoughtherewasfearinherwideeyesnow.
“Stayhere,”Chancesaid.“Andprotectthevase.”
Hedartedforthestairs,onallfours,agray-furredblurasheboundeduptheminjusttwoleaps.Atthetopwasalanding,sumptuouslydecoratedliketherestofthemanse,indarkironbarkpanelinganddecorativeIsheimsheep’swoolrugs.Hissenseofhearing,razor-sharp,hadpickedupnotonlyTali’scry,butthesoundsofastruggleandthecrashofsomethingheavyfalling.Shewasbeingattacked.
Thelandingledtoanothercorridorwhichtookhimright.Hismindranthroughtheplanofthebuildingashewent,memorizedbeforethey’dsetout.Hetookadoortotheleft,andemergedontowalkwaythatranaroundtheupperwallsofthelibraryatthemanse’sheart.
HesawTalibelowonthelibrary’sgroundfloor,strugglingwithaguardinaleatherdoubletovertheremainsofafallensetofbookshelves.Anotherofthehiredmusclehadbeenpinnedbythecollapse,whileathirdwasracingacrosstheroom,aheavycudgelraised.
Chancehadhisthorntipknivesoutinaninstant,oneofthesmallthrowingdaggershelddeftlybetweeneachfinger.Ashedidso,hiseyeswerecaughtbyagleamtotheright,causinghimtohesitate.
HerealizedwhatTalihadbeentryingtodo–scalethebookshelvestoreachtheupperlevelwithoutnegotiatingthestairs.Onthewalkwayhe’demergedontosatanotherplinthwiththesecondofthetwinvases,shiningbrightinthelightofthechandeliersuspendedoverhead.
HelookedbackdownatTali.Shehadspottedhim,practicallynexttothevase.Theysharedanunspokensecondofrealization.
Thief’s honor. The target comes first.
Chancebaredhisfangs,andthrewthefirstofhisknives.Thelittlesteelbarbflewstraightandtrue,thumpingintothecalfofthecharging,cudgel-wieldingmanasheclosedonTali.Hewentdownwithayelpofpain.TheonegrapplingwithTalilookedupwithsurprise,spottingChanceabovehimjustbeforethesecondknifestruckhisshoulder,actuallyslicingpastTali’sarmbeforefindingitstarget.
Shethrewhimoffasheyelledinpain,shoutingatthesametime.
“Chance,watchout!”
He’dalreadysensedtheimpendingattack.Afourthguardhadsteppedoutontothewalkwaybehindhim,hisscarredfaceflushedwithrageashebroughtuphisclub.Chanceduckedandrolled,hearingasplittingcrashastheheavyweaponsplinteredthewoodenrailingthathadbeeninfrontofhimamomentbefore.
Hisrollboughthimintocontactwiththeplinthholdingthevase.Itwasbarelyabrush,butitcausedenoughofawobblefortheantiquetostarttippingovertheedge.Chancereachedoutwithoutthinking,catchingitneatlyinthesamepawhisshadowclawgauntletwasstrappedto.
Hestaredatit,realizingwhathe’djustdone,beforearoarbehindhimcausedhimtodartpasttheplinthwithtailraised.Anotherblowcrackeditandsentittopplingastheirateguardsurgedafterhim.
“Comeback,youmangylittlescavenger,”theguardbellowed.
Chancedidn’tgetfar.Adooropenedinfrontofhim,causinghimtocomeupshortasyetanothermemberofBrezer’sentourage,hairtousledfromasleepdisturbed,steppedouttointercepthim.
Helookedfromthenewarrival,backattheonepursuinghim,realizinghewascornered.
“I’mnotascavenger,”hetoldthemanraisinghisclubtostrike.“I’mathief.”
Chancethrewthevase.
Bothmencriedoutinhorror,staringatthegoldenantiqueasitseemedtoarc,inslowmotion,uptowardthelibrary’shighrafters.
Chancehissedandlashedout,hismovementsablur.Hisshadowclawsrakedacrossthefirstman’sthighs,bringinghimdownlikealeadensack,beforethelastofhisthorntipknivespinnedthesleeveoftheclub-wieldingguardtothewall.Thehyrrinxstraightenedasbothmenbellowed,thefirstclutchinghiswoundwhilethesecondstruggledtofreehisarm.Hestretchedouthispaws,andcaughtthevasewithdeftprecisionasitfellbackdowntohim.
Talihadpoppedhersmokebombs,choking,ashen-graycloudsbillowingthroughthelowerpartofthelibrary.SheemergedfromthembeneaththewalkwaywhereChancewas,wavingupathim.
“Dropit!”
Heheldthevaseoverthesideandletgo,followingitover.TalicaughttheantiquewithagruntjustasChancelandedbesideher,onallfours.
“Window,”hesaid,pointingwithoneclawthroughthesmokeatapossibleescaperoute.Talinodded.
Togethertheyrushedit,headsdown,smashingthroughitwithacrashofshatteringglass.ChancerolledthroughtheshrubberybeyondandwasupagainintimetosteadyTali,graspingthevasejustbeforeittumbledfromhergrip.
TheymadeitthroughtheWestportgateandintoanalleywayalongthebackoftheDuckandHarpinnbeforepausingtocatchtheirbreath.
“Somuchforthief’shonor,huh?”Talipanted,managingagrin.
“Hey,Igotthetarget,”Chancesaid,holdingupthevase.
“Mytarget,”shecorrected.“Where’syours?”
“Ithadaparticularlyfearsomeguardwatchingoverit,”Chancesaid,tuggingdownhismasktogiveTaliafangedgrinofhisown.Sherolledhereyes,clearlynotbelievinghim.
“Youcould’vejustleftme,”shesaid.“TheOutlawPrincewon’tbepleased.”
Chancegrimaced.“Ijusthopehewon’tfindout,”hesaid,theconcerninhisvoiceclear.Talilaughedandpattedhisshoulder,tryingtoencouragehim.
“Youknow,Chance,sometimesyoucanbeaterriblethief,”shesaid.“ButI’mgladyou’resuchagoodfriend.”