Swan's Braid and Other Tales of Terizan, Page 3

  "And how would this person know what merchandise to look for?"

  "Easy; every fence and constable in Oreen has a list."

  Swan looked surprised. "They can read?"

  "Well, no, but scholars are cheap."

  "All right." The mercenary captain folded her arms across her chest. "What does this person do once she's found the merchandise in the councilor's house? It won't prove anything if you steal it."

  "We could take it to one of the other councilors."

  "We don't know that the other councilors weren't in on this deal as well."

  Terizan smiled; if only for the moment Swan had referred to them as we. "Then we take it to the people."

  ***

  "Are you sure you're good enough for this?" Swan hissed, scowling at the iron spikes set into the top of the wall surrounding Councilor Saladaz's townhouse.

  "If you hadn't been expecting a dark-haired woman to try something, I'd have had your braid."

  "You think." She shook her head. "I don't like this. It's too dangerous. I don't like sending someone into a danger I won't face myself."

  Terizan flexed fingers and toes, preparing for the climb. "First of all, you're too good a captain not to delegate when you have to and, secondly, you're not sending me. It was my idea; I'm going on my own."

  "Why?"

  Because I'd cheerfully roll naked on a hill of fire ants for you. Something of the thought must have shown on her face because Swan reached out for her. Terizan stepped back. That kind of a distraction she didn't need right now. "We settled that already. Because I owe you for not killing me."

  "So you're going to kill yourself?"

  She wanted to say it was perfectly safe, but she didn't think she could make it sound believable. "Just make sure there's a constable or two ready when I come back over the wall. Are your people in place?"

  "Everyone's ready."

  "Good."

  Terizan had spent the early part of the day investigating the councilor's security arrangements while Swan readied her Wing for the evening's work. If it was to be done at all, it had to be done before full dark. The wall wasn't much of a problem. That it hid nearly everything behind it, was.

  She'd heard dogs in the garden so she planned to avoid the garden entirely. Saladaz probably thought that the jump from the top of the wall to the twisted wrought iron of a second floor balcony was impossibly far. He was almost right. Two fingers on each hand hooked around the railing and Terizan just barely got her feet forward in time to stop her body from slamming into the house.

  The tall louvered shutters were closed but not locked and before anyone could come to investigate the sound of her landing, she was moving silently down an upper hallway.

  Saladaz's prizes wouldn't be in the public rooms; they'd be some place private, but not locked away. He'd want to enjoy them, gloat over them, or there'd be no point in taking the risk of owning them.

  She passed a door that gave access into a room overlooking the inner courtyard and all the hair on her body lifted. Unlike the Thieves' Guild, the councilor had obviously considered it worth the expense of having a wizard magically lock at least one of his doors.

  Terizan smiled and kept moving. He might as well have hung out a sign. She had no intention of trying to get around the spell and pick the lock. Thieves who held exaggerated ideas of their skills quickly became decorations on the spikes of the Crescent and the itch caused by a sensitivity to magic had always kept her safely away from things she couldn't handle.

  At the next door, she sped through a bed chamber – in use, but, given the hour, empty – went out the window, and onto the inner wall. There were servants working in the courtyard, but her long-sleeved tunic and trousers were the close to the same shade as the brick, the short, corn-coloured wig she wore was only a bit lighter, and, as good thieves learned early in their careers, people seldom looked up.

  Fingers and toes splayed into nearly invisible cracks, Terizan inched across the wall. For one heart stopping moment she thought there was a spell on the window as well, but then realized she was reacting to the distant feel of the door lock. The window had no lock, but then, why should it? The window looked over a private courtyard.

  The room behind the window was a study. It held a massive table with a slanted writing surface, racks and racks of scrolls, a number of very expensive glass lamps – had she been on personal business the lamps alone would've brought a tidy profit – and a cushioned lounger with a small round table drawn up beside it. There were beautiful ornaments on display all over the room. The three she recognized immediately, Terizan slipped into her pack. A quick search of the scrolls discovered two sets of ebony handles chased with silver from the merchants' list of stolen goods. She took one and left the second. After all, something had to remain for the constables to discover. A malachite inkwell was far too heavy so she contented herself with removing the set of matching brushes.

  Even without the inkwell, the extra weight made the trip back along the courtyard wall much more interesting than the initial journey had been. A handhold, barely half a fingerwidth, began to crumble. She shifted her weight and threw herself forward; stretching, stretching. Her toes clutched at safety and she started breathing again.

  Down below, the servants continued doing whatever it was that servants did, oblivious to the drama being played out over their heads.

  Bedchamber and halls were crossed without incident. Chewing the corner of her lip, Terizan measured the distance from the balcony back to the wall. Logic said it had to be the same distance going out as coming in, but logic didn't have to contend with a row of iron spikes and a weighted pack. If I jump a little short, I can catch myself on the base of the spikes and listen for Swan. Once I hear her, I can pull myself up to the top. She flexed her knees and tried not to think about what would happen if she jumped a little too short.

  Then her hands were wrapped around the spikes. She bit back a curse as one knee slammed into the bricks and held her breath listening for the dogs.

  "I'm telling you, Constable, I saw someone climb over this wall."

  They were directly opposite her. Gathering her strength, Terizan heaved herself up onto the top and began to run, bow-legged, for the far end, her heels touching down between every fourth spike.

  "There! Up there! Stop thief!"

  Heart in her throat, Terizan threw herself up into a young sycamore tree and down onto the roof of a long, two story building. She had to get to the center of the city. At the end of the building, she danced along a narrow ledge, spun round a flag pole, bounced up an awning and onto the top of another wall. Behind her, the hue and cry grew as more and more people took up the chase.

  "There he is! Don't let him get away!"

  She touched ground, raced through a tangle of back streets – peripherally aware of the occasional large body that placed itself to delay individuals if not the crowd pursuing her – crossed the High Street with what seemed like half of Oreen after her, darted between two buildings, and shrugged out of her pack. An ancient addition had crumbled away from newer stone leaving a dangerous stairway to the rooftops. Terizan skimmed up it, hanging the pack on a projection near the bottom, and threw herself flat behind the lip of the roof just as the chase reached the alley.

  "Look! There's his pack!"

  Wincing a little as the thieves' stair crumbled under the purposefully heavy footsteps of two of Swan's Wing, Terizan stripped off her trousers and turned them inside out to expose the striped fabric they'd been lined with. The sleeves came off the tunic and were stuffed into her breast band, significantly changing her silhouette. The wig she added to a pigeon's nest and couldn't see much difference between them.

  With all the attention on the alley and her pack, it was an easy matter to flip over the far side of the building and into a window before anyone reached the roof by more conventional methods. It helped that two very large mercenaries were having a shoving match on the stairs.

  By the time she reached t
he street, the mob had turned and was heading back to Councilor Saladaz's townhouse. Out in front ran a pair of merchants who'd lost everything to Hyrantaz's bandits.

  "Your left tit is lopsided."

  Terizan slipped a hand inside her tunic and shoved at the crumpled sleeve. "Better?"

  "Much." Swan grinned and stepped out of the shadow of the doorway. She linked her arm through the shorter woman's and they began to walk back to The Lion. "Everything worked out just like you said it would. When the constable pulled the drawstring on the pack everything in it fell out at his feet. He stared open-mouthed and a number of my louder officers stirred up the crowd, demanding to see each piece. When he held up the scroll ends, I thought the merchant they'd been taken from was going to spit fire. I've never seen anyone so angry. One of my people bellowed that the thief came out of Councilor Saladaz's house and that was all it took. The councilor is not a very popular man right now."

  They could hear the roar of the crowd in the distance. If anything, it appeared to be growing both louder angrier as it moved away from them.

  "I left plenty for them to find," Terizan murmured. "And I expect when they're done with Saladaz, it'll occur to someone that perhaps the other councilors ought to be checked out as well."

  "You're quite the strategist."

  Terizan's face flushed at the emphatic admiration in Swan's voice. She mumbled something non-committal and kept her eyes on her feet.

  "Given that what you do is illegal and the odds have to catch up to you sooner or later – which would be an incredible waste – have you ever considered taking up another profession?"

  "Like what?"

  "Oh... mercenary perhaps."

  Terizan stopped dead and turned to stare up at the taller woman. Although her night sight was very good, the shifting shadows of dusk made it difficult to read Swan's expression. "Do you mean..."

  "Thanks to that son of a leprous baboon..." Swan cocked her head as the background sounds of the crowd rose momentarily to a foreground scream of victory. "...who is even now being taken care of – I have a few openings."

  "But I don't, I mean, I can't..." Terizan took a deep breath and tried again. "That is, I won't kill anyone."

  Swan shrugged. "I can always get plenty of swords; brains are harder to come by. Besides," her voice softened and one hand rose to cup Terizan's face, "you're smart, you're beautiful, you're amazingly flexible; I think I'd like to get to know you better."

  The thief felt her jaw drop and the evening suddenly grew much warmer.

  "There's no need to decide right away," Swan continued, her grin suggesting she could feel the heat of Terizan's reaction. "I'm not taking the Wing anywhere until we're paid so we've got another two nights to see if we'll suit."

  ***

  "Swan! Swan! Swan!"

  The people of Oreen screamed their approval as Swan and twelve members of the Wing rode into the Crescent. Although all seven members of council waited on the steps of the Congress, only four were actually standing. Councilor Saladaz and two others stared out at the crowd with sightless eyes, their heads having joined Hyrantaz and his bandits.

  "So is it love?"

  Eyes locked on Swan, Terizan shrugged. "I don't know."

  Poli shook his head and sighed. "So are you going to accept her offer?"

  "I don't know."

  "Does she know that you're responsible for all this renewed adoration?"

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "I am never ridiculous. But I do recall being asked to spread a rumour that Swan was behind the discovery of Saladaz and his little business arrangements." He smoothed down his tunic and smiled. "I guess he should have paid her right away and got her out of town."

  Terizan grinned as Councilor Aleezan handed over the rest of the Wing's payment and the crowd went wild. Then the grin faded. "Poli, what should I do?"

  He had to place his mouth almost on her ear to be heard over the noise. "What do you want to do?"

  That was the problem, she didn't know. Swan was exciting, exotic, exhausting, and not an easy person to live with. The Wing would accept her initially for Swan's sake and in time for her own, but would she ever accept the Wing? They were as good at killing people as she was at stealing from them and she'd never really approved of slaughter for a living.

  His manicured nails digging into her shoulders, Poli shook her. "Terizan, you have to make a decision. What do you want to do?"

  "I want..." She didn't want to worry about injury or sickness or age. She didn't want to leave the city. And as much as she desired her, adored her, maybe even loved her, she didn't want to spend the rest of her life trying to keep up to Swan. Not to mention that she strongly suspected she'd hate sleeping in a tent. "I want to join the Thieves' Guild."

  Poli released her and gracefully spread his hands, the gesture clearing asking, "So?"

  "SWAN! SWAN! SWAN!"

  Terizan watched the Wing, and Swan, ride out of the Crescent on a wave of adulation. She'd agreed to meet them at The Lion and give the mercenary captain her decision. Fortunately, she thought Swan would understand. Unfortunately, if she wanted to join the Thieves' Guild, she had a small problem.

  "SWAN! SWAN! SWAN!"

  The life-braid gleamed like a line of fire down the back of Swan's armour. Terizan chewed on a corner of her lip and suddenly smiled.

  Maybe not.

  ***

  "Uh, Tribunes..." His eyes wide, Balzador peered into the Sanctum. "Uh, Terizan is back."

  One looked up from a detailed plan of the Congress and frowned at his expression. "Did you forget to use the blindfold again?"

  "N...no. I used the blindfold but..."

  "Good." Two cut him off. "Remember, she isn't a member of the Guild until she fulfills our commission. Although," he added in an undertone, "all things considered, we no longer really need to mollify our late client."

  "Y...yes, I know but..."

  Tribune Three sighed and turned from racking an armload of scrolls. "Well, if she's back, where is she?"

  "Right here." Terizan pushed past the stammering Balzador and into the Sanctum.

  One glanced up at the trap door in the ceiling, then smiled. "And did you bring us Swan's braid?"

  "I did." Reaching behind her, she pushed the door the rest of the way open.

  Swan swept off her blindfold, and bowed, eyes gleaming.

  The tribunal stared, open mouthed, fully aware that if anything happened to their captain, the Wing would tear the city apart.

  "What is the meaning of this," One demanded at last.

  Terizan echoed Swan's bow. "You never specified that I had to remove the braid from Swan."

  "We, we..." Two sputtered.

  Then Three began to laugh. "We never did," he chuckled, slapping meaty thighs. "We never did. We said bring us Swan's braid and she most assuredly has done that."

  Two's narrow lips began to twitch.

  Finally, One sighed and spread her hands in surrender. "Welcome to the Guild, Terizan." Almost in spite of herself, she smiled. "We'll remember to be more specific in the future."

  ***

  "I'm almost relieved you didn't take me up on my offer." When Terizan looked hurt, Swan cupped her chin with one hand. "You'd steal the company out from under me in a month."

  "I don't think so," Terizan began, but Swan cut her off.

  "I do. I've seen you operate. Next time I'm back this way, you'll be running that Guild."

  Terizan frowned. There were a number of things she'd like to change. Most of them ran out her ears as Swan bent and kissed her good-bye, but she was sure she'd think of them again. Just as soon as she could start thinking again. She swayed a little as Swan released her.

  Swan swung up into the saddle and flicked her braid back over her shoulder. "You've stolen my heart, you know."

  "Come back and visit it."

  "I will."

  Terizan raised a hand in farewell as Swan rode out of the stable yard then climbed to the top of the tallest
building in the neighbourhood to watch the Wing ride out of Oreen.

  "Next time I'm back this way, you'll be running that Guild."

  She dropped onto a balcony railing and danced along it to a narrow ledge. The day was fading and she had a lot to do. Plans to make. She grinned and touched her hip. Safe in the bottom of a deep pocket, sewn into a tiny, silk pouch, was a long red-gold hair, rippled down its length from the weave of the braid.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE ON "IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS"

  Once upon a time there was a series of hardcover anthologies called Bending the Landscape put out by Borealis Press, an imprint of White Wolf Publishing – yes, the gaming people – edited by Nicola Griffith and Stephen Pagel. The intent, according to the introduction, was to have each writer "...peer through a lens that bends their particular daily landscape away from its usual form..." As I recall, and admittedly my memory is somewhat sieve-like, I was asked to write a fantasy story and in response said, "Would another Terizan story be okay?" Evidently, yes. In fairness, this story definitely bends a daily landscape away from its usual form...

  IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

  "You want me to steal what?"

  "The Eye of Keydi-azda."

  Terizan stared at the Tribunal in disbelief. Her question had been rhetorical; she'd heard them the first time. "Keydi-azda is a god."

  "One of the so-called small gods." Tribune One cocked her head and raised a slender brow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

  "Actually, yes. People who steal from gods spend the rest of their very short lives in uncomfortable circumstances before enduring a painful eternity of having their livers eaten by cockroaches."

  Tribune Three snickered.

  One ignored him so pointedly his cheeks reddened. "You're saying you don't think you can do it?"

  "No. I'm not saying that." Terizan spread her hands in what she hoped was a placating manner – the last thing she wanted was to irritate the Tribunal. Actually, the last thing she wanted was to steal the Eye of Keydi-azda, but not irritating the Tribunal came a close second. They weren't particularly fond of her as it was. "I'd just rather not."