100 - Why would anyone *do* such a thing?

I had only one requirement of the establishment I went to, to feign a drunken evening: no bead-clock. A small consideration, perhaps, that no one would notice what time I left, but I’d been taught that such little things make the best dark-work. The great clock of Arko, which sits in a tower over the Marble Palace, tolls every bead, but only, mercifully, until midnight.

To digress, it also chimes the activities of the Imperator. Some ancient predecessor of Kurkas had decided he wanted everyone in the city to know when he was taking to bed and rising from it, dressing, eating, taking audiences, visiting the garderobe and so forth, and naturally this became hallowed tradition. I probably need not say that you cannot make any joke whatsoever to an Arkan when you hear the garderobe-rhythm, because they have heard them all.

Because Mana could not read an Arkan clock yet anyway, we had no way of matching times to meet, so I was to find him at his tavern, which was nearer to the Mezem, and signal him by drunkenly catcalling the serving-boys at the front, then staggering off when the peace-keeper moved to defend them. “You black-haired piece of shen, making to be so sky-pure,” he snapped at me. “Out, or I’ll…” I fingered my sword-hilt, glaring at him with a hand over one eye. “…rat on you to Koree.”

“Ohhh, ssshcary wordssh,” I slurred, loudly to make sure Mana heard me, and swaying on my feet. “You’re jussshht a… jusssshta…” It was easy to be realistically failed by my Arkan and so have to release a long fluid string of Yeoli insults. From a back room I sensed Mana’s sword coming, so I staggered away saying “Fik you fik you fik you” over my shoulder.

“Got everything?” he asked when we were in the alleyway. We’d counted the windows up and across by day, and so knew which was the Director’s office; bless him, in the heat of the night he’d left the panes, at least, a hand-width open.

I took off my cloak, my shoes and my sword; I had a pin-dagger I’d bought in the market, which would do better if a person happened to get in my way. I’d also bought a little ghost-blue kraumak in a black leathern pouch, and a knapsack that held more than it looked like it would, which I’d been wearing under my cloak already.

It was so late that the street that rings the Mezem was all but deserted. We crept under the window and clasped hands for luck.

With all its circus-like low-reliefs, the Mezem wall has a thousand hand and foot-holds, so that any half-fit Yeoli could all but scamper up it like a squirrel. The shutters were a hand-width open, same as the panes. There was no light within, no surprise; Forlanas had never struck me as the kind to burn the midnight oil. When I listened I heard only distant snoring. I’d never seen any sign he had a dog; please let him not have a long-tailed cat and me step on the long part, I thought, as I climbed in, and closed both shutters and panes to the same hand-width gap.

Now I was inside, I heard two notes of snoring through the door: a lower-pitched, phlegmy one, and a higher, more delicate one, hardly more than breathing: a child’s. I was in the office; the bed-chamber adjoined, so I couldn’t tell whether they were in the same bed; but why doubt? This was Arko. If the boy was between six and thirteen, thunder would not wake him, of course; I should worry more about the man.

Thieves, like other dark-workers, work as fast as they can quietly, I understood. I half-unpouched the kraumak, making sure no part of it showed to the door, and looked around, walking silently on the pads of my feet, toe-feeling so I didn’t trip over a footstool or the edge of a carpet. A desk, a mess of papers, file-drawers, three wardrobes; where was the strongbox? I started looking into the wardrobes, which I could feel were fine polished wood, trying not even to allow latches to click when I opened them. In the second one, I found the box, on the floor, and tried its handle; it was locked. I brought the kraumak close to the keyhole for a time, to better know the key when I saw it.

Probably in a desk-drawer, I thought. I hoped so, or that the drawer was not locked by a key he kept under his pillow; the box looked very big to lift, if it were full, let alone drop down three floors and have Mana catch. But there were assorted keys scattered on the top of the desk, not even on a ring; some had bits of string or ribbon in colours that were so faint in the kraumak’s hint of light that I almost couldn’t be sure I wasn’t imagining them. Picking them up between my five fingers so they wouldn’t clink against each other, I took all those that looked plausible.

Just then the older snore choked, and bedclothes rustled. I froze, and heard the boy exhale with a faint quivering whimper which made me wonder what the man had done to him, earlier. I waited until they settled, then went to the box, crouched down and started trying keys.

Bedclothes rustled again, and this time I heard a pair of feet pat against the floor, making me freeze like a tree. The snoring that was continuing was the man’s. Think the thoughts of not being here, I told myself. Draw in breath very slowly, settle the beating of the heart… Something that sounded ceramic scraped across the bed-chamber floor, faintly, as if whoever was moving it was trying not to disturb the other. Then came the patter of a stream of liquid. The boy was using the chamber-pot.

Go back to sleep, lad, when you’re done… peaceful dreams to you… After the last drops, I heard the ceramic lid placed delicately back on, and the scraping again as he pushed it back under the bed. What would I do if he decided on a sleepless whim to wander out into the office? Just stay where I was, unmoving, I decided, for as long as he was there, unless he lit a light. I didn’t want to think of what I should do then. Instead, the God-in-Him be praised, he settled back into bed, and was snoring again in what was probably a tenth-bead, but to me seemed a year.

The fifth key turned the lock with a click that made me flinch—the snoring went on—and I opened the box and shone the kraumak in. All I must do was distinguish gold from silver and copper, so I could take the most value with the least weight—assuming it had been sorted, which I prayed it had. I whispered thanks in my mind; it was sorted by sack. I carefully slipped the knapsack off and began lifting them in. How much? All I could carry, I decided, not having time to count; best I take more, preferably much more, than less.

I was raised anaraseye of Yeola-e, I thought as I worked. Always, I was punished more for lying than for whatever mischief I confessed; always I was taught, and I took it to heart, not even to pick a flower from the meadow, as that was a theft from the earth. The sacredness of law is in my blood; I learned every line of the statutes as priests learn catechism. It all pointed to the same thing: a semanakraseye must live an impeccable life.

And here I am, doing this.

I didn’t stop, however. When I had as much gold as I thought I could climb back down the wall with, I shouldered the pack, closed and locked the box and put the keys back where I’d found them; good thieves always leave things just as they were, I knew from the stories, since that most delays discovery. Now I was a thief, by Saint Mother, I’d be a good one. The snoring went on undisturbed as I peeked out the window and flashed the kraumak downwards to Mana.

“Clear,” he whispered up. I climbed out, leaving the shutters and panes with the same hand-width gap, and scampered, more heavily, back down. We staggered our separate ways back to the Mezem and slipped into our rooms, slurring compliance when Iska ordered us to drink a big cup of water, and I made sure to face him straight on to hide the knapsack. It was done, but for the counting.

I did it right then—eight-hundred and fifty three—hid them in an even flat layer under my mattress, and fell into the sweet sleep of the innocent after honest toil.

†

“Aigh aigh aigh aigh aigh aiiiigggghhhh!”

The ring-fighters were at breakfast, a number of us looking balefully at our food while our boys abjured us to eat, despite our headaches, so that we wouldn’t become weak. The Director came shrieking down his stairs, dressed only in an ornately embroidered bathrobe.

“Aaaaaaiiiiiggghhh! Someone’s stolen all the gold chains from yesterday, every one of them, aiiiiiigggghhh!”

“Oww. My head doesn’t need this,” Mana said to Jamaias, his boy, in Yeoli but with an emphatic-enough flinch, grimace and clutching of his pate that Jamaias understood, and gently patted his shoulder. “Can’t a sword-buck nurse a hangover in peace?”

“Aiiiiigggghhh! The Imperator… thieves… I am so fikked… shennen Iska, get the Sereniteers, AAAAIIIGGGHHH!!!” Forlanas jumped up and down with fists clenched, like a three-year-old, while Iska hovered near, trying to placate him.

I stared amazed at Skorsas. “Do I understand right? Someone stole… money? From him? Liquid assets?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, you understand right. Right out of the room next to where he sleeps. Maybe you don’t know, but the bigger the city, the more brazen the robbers—so here in Arko, we have the world’s most brazen. Which means this place will be crawling with law-pushers in a breath, tromping on the rugs, asking even the lowliest slave stupid questions and getting in our way. And the Director will be stormy for eight-days… great. Thank you so much, miserable crooks.”

Mana stared baffled as Jamaias tried valiantly, despite the natural handicap with his gloved hands that he had as an Arkan, to express in gestures the idea of stealing.

“But…” I said, blinking, “to take something, that belongs to someone else... why would anyone do such a thing?”

Skorsas stared at me speechless for a moment. He had told me, as soon as my Arkan was good enough to understand, that he had set a rule for himself when he’d first been hired, never to show his fighter exasperation, adding that if he ever did without knowing it, I should tell him. Now he broke that rule, though in all fairness I should note that he later apologized, abjectly.

“Karas Raikas, Jewel of the Mezem—how old are you? Did you live your whole life in a cave?”

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