You can read the previous chapter here!
“I have something for you,” whispered Candace. She got up, walked to the door, carefully peeked outside in both directions, and then snuck across to her room. Moments later, she returned with a bundle of cloth. She closed the door behind herself.
What’s this? Asp thought. Oh, shit, is today some important day for us? “What do you have?” she asked, her voice warm.
Candace held out the bundle. “Happy two year anniversary,” she said.
Asp smiled. Has it really been two years already? I guess it has. Have I settled down? “Oh, thank you, Candy,” she said. She unraveled the package. Inside was a dark blue dress with a matching turban as well as a variety of ornate silver jewelry. Asp was confused for a moment, but then it struck her. “Oh my gods, you actually remembered that?”
Candace beamed. “I was pretty drunk, but I’ll never forget the look on your face when you described the fortune teller character.”
Asp laughed. “That’s why you asked so many questions about what the costume would look like,” she said, a touch of wonder in her voice. “Candy, this is amazing. You’re amazing. Happy two year anniversary.” Asp kissed Candace.
Candace looked businesslike for a moment. “It’s okay if you forgot like last year,” she said.
“I didn’t forget,” lied Asp. “Close your eyes.”
Candace smiled and placed her hands over her eyes. Asp stole to the closet and lifted a floorboard. There was a small collection of wrapped packages. Damn, that was a good gift. I’ll have to use my ringer. She grabbed a medium-sized box, about twice as long as it was tall, wrapped in a shiny silver paper. She replaced the floorboard and bounded back to Candace.
“Open your eyes,” she instructed, and Candace did, taking the box and unwrapping it. “This wrapping paper stuff seemed like a weird idea when you first showed me,” said Candace, tearing the paper off in thin strips that fell to the floor, “but I get it now. So satisfying.”
Asp grinned. “We slightkins do know a thing or two.”
Candace finished removing the paper and tore open the box to reveal a pair of black leather boots with black lace stitched all along them in elaborate patterns. Her hands raced to cover her face.
Asp spoke at a whisper. “They’re deerskin, and I broke them in myself. They don’t make a sound. I thought you might like something more your style.” She gestured to Candace’s greying and faded plain black boots.
Candace turned to her, tears in her eyes. “They’re beautiful. I’m gonna try ‘em on.” She smiled and kicked off her own faded boots before sliding her foot down into the new boot, which rose to her knee. “You broke these in?”
Asp laughed. “Yeah. They shouldn’t make any sound now.”
“That must have been a sight to see,” said Candace, joining her in laughing. “These would come up to your waist.”
“They did,” admitted Asp.
“You know,” said Candace, looking down at the floor, “these must have been really expensive.”
“Candy, not this again,” soothed Asp. “I manage my money how I manage my money.”
“No, it’s not that,” said Candace, smiling despite herself. “Spend your money however you want. I’ll admit I like having you give me nice things. But my question is, where did you get the money? We all make pretty much the same here, but you always seem to have more to throw around than everyone else.”
“I’m just a spendthrift,” lied Asp.
“Ever since the end of that first job, when you said you snatched some sapphires off a transport wagon and shared them with us–you had more, didn’t you?” asked Candace, a touch of wonder in her voice tempered by uncertainty.
“Candace, listen,” said Asp with equal parts sternness and gentleness, and on hearing her full name, Candace did indeed listen. Asp hugged Candace and practically whispered. “I would put both of us in potential danger if I explained what happened. I don’t want that for me, and of course I would never put you in harm’s way,” she said, pulling back to look Candace in the face, “because I love you, and so we need to just accept that I’m your sugar mama.”
Candace smiled, shaking her head. “Well, at least help me come up with a story for the gang about how I got these amazing new boots,” she said, pointing down at the boots.
“You wanted to invest in the gang’s future by improving your stealth abilities, and you got a bit of financial help from your best friend Asp, whose job she’s about to present in five minutes requires extra stealth from her best friend Candace. And because they’re going to benefit, they’re not going to bat an eye.” Asp smiled at Candace to reassure her.
“This lying stuff never gets easier for me,” said Candace, eyes closed. “I don’t know how you can do it.”
The heavy sound of feet coming down stairs sounded next to and above the room.
“Showtime!” cried Asp. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Candace, and they swept out of the room together after checking the hallway.
Down in the living room, the gang had gathered. Everyone but Kyrn and Oslo was there; everyone sat up straight in their chairs and watched as Candace and Asp walked in.
“The dynamic duo,” announced Annabel as they entered. “Kyrn’s about to come back with drinks, and Oslo said he’s got a surprise for us.”
Surprise? That would account for the awkwardness in here. “Well, let’s hope we get the drinks first so we can deal with the surprise,” said Asp, trying to improve the mood. She got only a small bit of nervous laughter in return. “Nothing, really?”
Dancer looked to Jehosaphat, who took a moment, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Usually when he says ‘surprise,’ he means he’s picked up a new member of the gang.”
Asp considered this. “So why is that bad news?”
“You never know what you get, for one,” said Dancer, his eyes scanning the room as he did when nervous. “We got lucky with you, but we’ve had people who didn’t work out in the past.”
“And there’s the fact that we’re not replacing anyone,” declared Annabel. “We’re adding to the operation, which means that Oslo probably has plans already.”
“Do we know what kind he’s bringing on?” asked Candace, taking a seat.
Gregorio spoke up from the corner of the room, surprising everyone. “I believe he’s adding more muscle–not because we need it, but because we can afford it.”
“That’s just right,” said Oslo, entering the room. “Thanks for explaining it in my place, Gregorio. Now allow me to introduce Gunther, Annabel’s new counterpart.”
A squarish dwarf with a patchy beard and a scar etched across his right cheek stepped into the room. He wore thick leather armor and carried two large swords at his hips. He gave a half-hearted wave to the gang. “Greetings,” he said. Asp could tell he didn’t normally talk this way. “I understand it’s my job to protect you lot now. Maybe let’s not make that too hard on me, and I’ll keep it from being too hard on you.”
“Let’s greet Gunther over some drinks,” said Oslo. “Where’s Kyrn?”
“Still out,” said Candace, gesturing out of the manor. “So Gunther, have you been a part of a gang before?”
“Briefly,” the dwarf said. “Whole thing went down. We got informed on by someone in the gang. Never found out who, otherwise I’d’ve throttled ‘em.” He had a strange look in his eye as he explained this. Trauma? Regret? Discomfort?
“So you’re relatively new to the prospect of working together?” pressed Candace.
“In the scheme of things, I suppose,” replied Gunther.
“Well, perhaps someone who has worked in a gang can tell you what your job is rather than having you tell us how it’s going to be,” said Candace, barely suppressing anger.
Gunther opened his mouth to reply, but Jehosaphat cut him off: “I believe what Candace is saying is something we all agree with–let’s talk about roles.” His diplomatic tone seemed to draw Gunther in; the dwarf stepped in closer and took a seat in an armchair. Jehosapahat continued, “Candace, for instance, is our second story worker. She does all the light step-light touch work. That means she’s either doing delicate work which we’re supporting, or she’s supporting us.” He turned and pointed to Gregorio. “Gregorio’s our financials man. He keeps us afloat, and so we have to keep him clean. He supports us, we support him.” Jehosaphat gestured to Dancer. “Dancer here and Kyrn, who you’ll meet momentarily–they’re our pickpockets. When they’re working, we support them, and when they’re not, they support us.” He thumbed at himself, Oslo in the armchair, and Asp still by the door. “Oslo, Asp, and I–we run cons. We’re either the star of the show or the supporting players to the rest of us.” He pointed finally to Annabel. “You and Annabel are muscle. Can you guess what I’m going to say about your role?”
Gunther rolled his eyes. “I do my job, and then I support people.” He snorted. “What kinda half-cap group spends all their time sitting around ‘supporting’ each other? Seems like a bunch of stupid, girly shit.”
Oslo had sat in silence, a bitter look on his face, while Gunther had listened to Jehosaphat. The gang leader spoke, looking down at his hands–his voice was low, and it simmered. “You listen to me right now, you, and believe me when I say that you have two options. You agreed to my terms when you came with me. Now this is my game. You work with me like we have already agreed on, or I find a nice ditch in need of a body.” He was still looking down.
Gunther looked shocked. “What the fuck? You would bring me all the way here and just kill me if I don’t play along?”
“I picked you, Gunther,” said Oslo as though Gunther were an obvious fool, “because I thought I saw potential in you to be a part of something greater.” He stood suddenly, spinning his arms around him. “You like this big fancy house? You like the idea of not working for weeks or months at a time? Then maybe you can take this shit seriously. But boy, I have lines on plenty of muscle, and your wagon fare ain’t shit to me.” Oslo sneered.
Gunther looked shamed. Down the hall, a door opened and closed.
“Special delivery!” called Kyrn in a silly voice, coming around the corner with an armload of bottles of alcohol. In the otherwise silent room, every eye turned to Kyrn. “I walked into a tense situation, didn’t I?” she asked as she set the bottles on the table in the middle of the room.
“Little bit,” said Asp in a silly voice as well, trying to split some of the tension. It almost worked.
“I had to change my thinking when I started here, too,” said Annabel, commiserating. “I thought it was about hurting people, or making them do things, but it’s really about protecting people.”
“Right,” said Gunther, uncertain. “Can I get some air?”
“By all means,” said Oslo, gesturing to the door. “If I can accompany you, I can lead you to some excellent nightlife.”
“I’m good on my own for now,” said Gunther.
“Just make sure no one sees you coming in or out the side door,” said Jehosahat as Gunther left.
After the door closed, Oslo sighed tried not to look frsustrated. “Planning session is delayed until tomorrow,” he said. “Just relax.”
“Yeah, everybody, relax,” echoed Asp. “If I recall correctly, I stormed out on my first night too.”
“True,” said Jehosaphat, “but you weren’t walking out on as much as he is. Things have changed, Asp. How many jobs have we pulled in the last year?”
Asp ticked off fingertips. “Two, three, four, five.”
“Five jobs in a year. How many jobs a year were you doing before you joined us?” asked Jehosaphat.
“Oh, wow, probably five a month,” said Asp, laughing a bit in disbelief. “Five a week when things were bad.”
“We did fourteen jobs the year before you joined up,” continued Jehosaphat. “And last year, we pulled only five. We are lazy slobs who work less than half the year and live in a mansion. You didn’t walk away from that, but Gunther seems to be thinking about it.”
“He’ll be back,” muttered Oslo, pouring himself a drink. “Just like Asp came back, just like the rest of you came back, just like I came back.”
“You came back?” asked Dancer. “What are you talking about?”
Oslo chuckled and sipped his whiskey. “I liked working alone. But then I started thinking bigger. What you could do with more people, what you could do with people you trust. I picked a gang because I’m greedy, and a gang is the quickest way to satisfy that.”
“Cheers to that,” cried Kyrn. Everyone toasted, and the festivities began in earnest.
Asp woke up on the floor. Her legs were on the couch and on top of Kyrn, who was still asleep. Asp shifted her head and bumped into someone else’s head–Annabel’s–who was also asleep on the floor. She extricated her body from these entanglements and surveyed the room.
There were empty bottles scattered everywhere. The spirits bottles had been drained quickly enough, and Kyrn had set out again for more to drink, this time in the form of an elven ale, and these bottles seemed to have multiplied overnight. Asp picked her way across the floor, dodging fallen bottles and most of the rest of the gang.
She made it to the doorway and smiled. In the last two years, the gang had become good friends or at least constant presences. In that time, she had begun to act differently. She slipped out the side door of the estate and down the street into the early morning. She observed people out walking and waved to them; people in this neighborhood knew Delia as a trustworthy source of news and someone interested in the people’s wellbeing, and they were happy to wave back. She had taken a special interest in being Delia in recent months–people just seemed to like her more, perhaps because Delia loved being helpful. And that was the change: Asp had begun to do helpful things, and not because there was a clear endgame for it.
It had surprised her at first. She was doing nice things for Candace even when Candace was already happy. Then it extended to the gang. And there was that curious night two years ago when she had not known what to do with the fortune she had earned from Melwi. She worried sometimes that she was becoming too soft, that having someone lavish you with care made you insensible to the horrors that people inflict on each other. But is it any better to be sharp just because the world is?
She arrived at a bakery and walked in. “Morning, Marge!” she called.
A grey-haired slightkin stepped out of the kitchen. “Morning, Delia!” she replied. “How is this fine morning treating you?”
“I would say it could be better,” said Asp with a devilish grin, “but I’m a known liar.”
Marge laughed, slapping her thigh. “Good for you!” she said, a wide grin on her face. “The usual?”
“Actually, I need a spread again,” said Asp, looking at the various treats on the counter. “Like you did before with all the different breads and pastries?”
“Oh sure,” said Marge cheerfully. “More slightkin originals, or are you feeding unrefined mouths?”
“Do a half-half split, please,” said Asp. “Is Hugo around?”
“HUGO!” yelled Marge. She smiled at Asp. “He’ll be right here.”
A huge blue-grey wolfhound bounded into the room. He looked up, saw Asp, and charged her. He almost knocked her down and began licking her in loud, furious strokes of his tongue.
“Hugo!” cried Marge, a creeping smile in her voice. “Give her some space!”
“He’s fine,” said Asp, laughing. “He’s just happy to see me.”
“Only because you give the best treats,” teased Marge.
Asp reached into her pack and retrieved a long strip of baked sweet potato. She tore it into smaller pieces and fed them to Hugo. “He’s a good boy,” she said, stroking his head.
“The best,” corrected Marge. “Good morning,” she added as a heavily armored human entered the bakery.
“Good morning,” the human said, holding the sheath of his longsword like it might run away. “Could I buy two loaves of your seed bread?”
“Sure thing,” said Marge with a polite smile. “One sec.”
“That’s a mighty fine suit of armor,” said Asp, her eyes glued on his thick cuirass. “You rich or well-financed?”
The man looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “Well-financed. I’m still getting used to it. It’s heavier than my old stuff. The other guy says it’s worth more than we’re getting paid.”
“Must be something important,” said Asp, restraining herself from revealing how interested she was. “Caravan guards?”
“I don’t even know what we’re transporting. But it’s some new thing,” explained the man. “They built some armored-up cart and they’re sending it with us instead of trusting a caravan.”
“Huh,” said Asp, curious. “Can I see your cart?”
“I guess,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just out in the street.”
Asp tried to keep her walk slow as she left the bakery. There was a steel wagon with a steel housing on top that looked similar to a covered travel wagon. There were seats, as on a stagecoach, for the driver and the other guard to ride on. It looked imposing. Another guard, a similarly-armored copper Ronan'el man, sat on the wagon’s seat. The armored human man joined Asp outside, carrying the bread he had ordered.
“You have no idea what’s in there?” asked Asp.
“Not a one,” said the man, his voice flat. “And it’s not just one trip, either. We signed on for months of driving back and forth on the south road.”
“Huh,” said Asp again. She eyed the wagon warily. My idea for the gang to start a real newspaper has potential, but not like whatever this is. “Well, good luck!” she added and walked back into the bakery.
“You gonna do a story on the new armored cart?” asked Marge, sliding a large tray of baked goods across the counter.
Asp dropped a helm and a few caps on the counter and grabbed the tray. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just a curious soul.”
“Well, you have a wonderful day,” said Marge, waving.
Asp smiled. “I think I will.”
-
When Asp reentered the living room in the estate, Kyrn and Jehosaphat were up. Kyrn was gathering bottles as quietly as she could–which was quite quietly–and Jehosaphat was nursing a cup of tea. Asp set the breads and pastries on the table.
“Oh, you’re a saint,” moaned Jehosaphat, picking up a round of slightkin seed bread. “I don’t understand why this is such good hangover food, but it is.” He chewed the seed bread through a smile.
“Oooh, I call a glazed one,” said Kyrn as she pried a bottle from Dancer’s hand as he slept.
“There’s plenty for everyone,” said Asp, chuckling. The smiles on their faces–despite the hangovers–had been just what she had hoped for.
The door behind her slammed, and everyone lurched. They turned to the hallway and saw Gunther marching toward them, Oslo a few steps behind him. Gunther entered the room and shouted, “Wake up!”
The still-sleeping members of the gang stirred. Annabel leapt to her feet in alarm. Dancer mumbled something about raspberries, still half-asleep. Candace skittered behind a chair, then poked her head around it. Gregorio sat up in his chair, fumbling for his eyeglasses.
“I got something to say,” said Gunther, his breathing irregular, “and I’m only saying it once. I was wrong. What you got here is real good, real good. I see it ain’t about who I can knock out. Oslo talked to me, and I realize it’s about getting paid together. So, uh, I’m sorry I took the piss out of ya yesterday, and I’m in.” It looked as though Gunther had only just realized he was done talking.
“Well, three cheers for Gunther!” cried Oslo.
“Ugh, no cheers,” whined Dancer, rubbing his temples.
“Figuratively, I meant,” corrected Oslo. “Now, if it’s fine by everyone, I say we sit down and talk business. You won’t be expected to contribute quite yet, Gunther, but pay attention so you’re ready next time. I believe there’s an opportunity to steal a particularly valuable jewel from a private collection not too far from town. We could be good for a few months. Jehosaphat?”
“I’ve been tracking a very private, very wealthy inventor who has a prototype they know would be worth a lot. I think it’s a farming technology, but it’s hard to say just yet. In any case,” said Jehosaphat through a mouthful of seed bread, “we could ransom it back to him. He wouldn’t go to the guards–too paranoid.”
“Very nice,” chirped Oslo. “Annabel?”
Annabel cracked her knuckles. “I think that since they lowered security by the docks, it’s opened some possibilities up. Especially if we have two of us to intimidate, we might be able to get to the trade cashbox. On a good day, that could keep up lazy for a while.”
“We’ve been talking about that cashbox for months, and I think it might be time,” said Oslo, smiling. “What about you, Dancer?”
“Well, remember when we did the museum job two years back, we got that chest?” asked Dancer. “What if we contacted that same person and asked what else we can do for them? That was some of our best work, maybe ever.”
“True, true,” said Oslo, “but we haven’t heard from that contact since then. It’s been two years, Dancer. I think they may have moved on.”
“Just saying,” countered Dancer.
“Kyrn? What do you have?” asked Oslo.
“Admittedly,” said Kyrn, “this doesn’t use everybody. But there’s room for someone small to squeeze under the floorboards in the Church of Halian’s cash room. We could just extract their tithe box, and we’d be set.”
“That would be nice,” said Oslo, a snarl-like smile creeping across his face. “Candace?”
“One word: counterfeit,” said Candace, holding an arm up in a dramatic pose.
“Counterfeit what?” asked Jehosaphat.
“Two words,” corrected Candace, repeating the pose. “Counterfeit coins.”
“What kind of coins?” asked Oslo.
“Uh . . . five words. Counterfeit crowns, you stubborn lot,” said Candace, as she jerkily performed the pose a third time. “I think I’ve found a smith who could help us with both making the press and smelting convincing fake metals.”
“That could be good, especially if he’s not a bust like Gregorio’s lead from a while back,” said Oslo, a momentary frown passing over his face. “Counterfeit always runs a risk of being found out every time you use it, but a good counterfeit can be very lucrative. Gregorio?”
“I’ve been talking to a banker who tends to several smaller townships to the west. He says his bank was recently insured against the dwarven treasury, and he might be willing to look the other way if we cut him in on a break-in,” Gregorio explained.
“Good,” said Oslo, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll have to vet the banker of course, but that’s promising. And now Asp.”
“You may not like this,” began Asp as she thought of the other times she had proposed jobs. Oslo always said they were too risky. She was ready to be shot down. “But today I saw an armored cart here in town, and they said they’re traveling the south road for a while. It was so armored, in fact, that there has to be something valuable inside.”
“You don’t know what’s in the wagon?” asked Oslo, incredulous. “What the hell good does that do us?”
Asp had backed down on every other job proposition. They hadn’t seemed worth it, especially when there was other work to do. But something in her chafed at Oslo’s derision.
“Oslo,” she whispered, “for what possible reason might you look at every method of protection that has ever been devised by a person and think, ‘that’s not enough to protect what I have?’”
Oslo made a face like he had tasted something sour. “You have a point, but holding up a cart is basically highwayman business, and that thing sounds like it’s designed to thwart highwaymen. In what way do we tackle this that ain’t just brute force, which wouldn’t work?”
Asp smoothed her dress in her lap. “Me, you, and Jehosaphat distract the two guards, and meanwhile, Kyrn and Dancer steal the keys to the locked compartment off of them while they’re paying attention to us. Candace gets in and out of the wagon without being noticed, and we leave the wagon without them even knowing that they got hit.” She made pointed eye contact with Oslo.
“And our muscle?” he asked. “What are they doing during all of this?”
“Standing by in case things get nasty,” said Asp, her face serious. “Remember, there’s only two guards. They’re armed better than us, but we’ve got numbers on our side.”
Oslo sighed. “Let’s consider this one for a while. Reconvene this evening, and we’ll put it to a vote. ‘Til then, let’s show our newest member a good time.”
The gang spilled out into the city to begin their festivities anew, everyone jostling to show Gunther the best parts of Strey.
-
“Hey, follow me,” whispered Candace.
The gang was crowded into a tavern. Jehosaphat and Annabel were eating hearty meals prepared by the dwarven chef, and the rest were singing traditional drinking songs in a smattering of languages. Somehow, the gang had managed to whip up the tavern’s other patrons into party mode as well.
Asp looked around–everyone seemed absorbed in their own affairs–and she hopped down off her barstool, following Candace outside.
“I have an idea,” Candace said once they were outside. “But before I tell you, I want you to agree to it.”
“Agree to what?” asked Asp. She had managed to find the sweet spot of being tipsy enough to enjoy herself but still maintain almost all of her mental control.
“I want us to have something together, but I want you to agree to share it with me first.” It was clear that Candace was struggling with being indirect.
“What are we sharing, Candy?” asked Asp, her voice soft.
“Yes or no,” said Candace, a goofy smile on her face.
“Fine,” said Asp after a moment. “Yes. Now what are we sharing?”
Candace smiled and turned to walk away.
“Hey!” cried Asp. “Where are you going?”
“Follow me,” repeated Candace, leading her deep into the city. They walked past shops and homes and all manner of buildings before Candace stopped in front of an unmarked house. She knocked on the door, which opened a minute later to reveal an elven man with a bowtie.
“Hello?” He looked to Candace. “Oh, you’re back.”
Asp noticed a sharp smell coming from the house. Urine, she thought. But not from a person . . . She puzzled over it until the elven man spoke again.
“The cats are just through here,” he said, turning back into the house.
Candace grabbed Asp’s hand and led her into the house. Along one wall was an area filled with puppies of various breeds; along the other was a similar area for cats. The opposite wall from the entrance included some birds in cages and lizards in pens.
“Here we are,” said the man, leading them to the cat pen. “Do any of these seem right to you?”
Candace gestured to the cats for Asp’s sake. “See, we can get one and raise it together. For the gang, it will be my cat, but really it will be ours,” she whispered to Asp. She turned to face Asp and saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. “Oh what’s wrong?!” Candace cried.
Asp blinked at the stinging tears, and they spilled over. Candace raced over and wrapped her in a hug. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she cooed.
“The orange one looks just like Iris,” mumbled Asp, her voice choked. She wept as she hadn’t allowed herself to in years, and it stung her to be like this in front of this salesman.
“Iris?” repeated Candace.
“My old cat,” said Asp, collecting herself. “I had to leave her behind.”
Candace smacked herself on the forehead. “Of course. I’m sorry, honey,” she soothed. “But now you won’t have to leave her behind. You’re here, with me.”
Asp wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I guess I just never let myself deal with losing her.” She looked to the salesman. “I’m sorry,” she said, solemn.
“Animals make good people emotional,” said the man, his voice gentle. “It’s just a sign you’re a good person.”
I wish it were that simple, she thought. But I’m really not.
“Do you want the orange one?” asked Candace.
“No,” said Asp, shaking her head more violently than she meant to. “Let’s get the one with the grey stripes.”
The man reached over and picked up the grey-striped cat. He checked its underside. “It’s a girl.”
“What should we name her?” asked Asp.
Candace grinned mischievously. “How about ‘Rose?’”
Asp smiled, then laughed. “Rose is perfect.”
-
Candace carried Rose into the estate. She made a platform of her outstretched hands, and Rose stood on it, inspecting everything that she came across with intense interest. Candace carried her in, Asp a few steps behind, and placed Rose on the floor in the midst of the gang, who watched with glee as the kitten approached each one of them in turn, sniffing and occasionally pawing at them.
“Did you find her or buy her?” asked Oslo, his tone indicative that neither option was preferable.
“Bought her,” said Candace, proud. “Her name is Rose, and she’s very sweet, so be nice to her.”
“Nice to meet you, Rose,” said Dancer, stretching out a hand for the cat to shake. Rose bumped her head into his fingertips. “Awww, just like her mom,” said Dancer, looking to Candace.
“Watch it,” said Candace, raising a hand with curled fingers. “We both have claws.”
“Alright, everybody,” crowed Oslo. “You know the deal: time to vote. For my jewel heist?”
Dancer began to raise his hand, then saw that he was the only one and lowered it. “Sorry, Oslo,” he mumbled.
“It’s fine. This is why we all come up with plans. For Jehosaphat’s blueprint ransom?”
Gregorio raised a hand.
“Okay, how about Gregorio’s corrupt banker?” asked Oslo.
Jehosaphat raised his hand. “We traded votes, Gregorio,” he said, nodding.
“We usually do,” remarked Gregorio.
“Dancer’s plan to get our old contact back?” Oslo managed to keep his tone even.
No hands rose.
“Okay, Annabel. Who likes the cashbox plan?” Oslo asked.
Gunther raised his hand. “Sounds simple,” he said. “Simple’s good, right?”
“It usually is,” said Oslo, and paused. “Kyrn’s church heist?”
Annabel raised a hand.
“Thanks, Annabel,” said Kyrn, a sweet smile on her face.
Oslo nodded. “Candace’s counterfeit plan?”
Asp raised her hand.
Candace looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t expect any support.”
“She’s just voting that way because you’re such good friends,” teased Dancer.
“No,” said Asp. “I think counterfeit crowns equals an endless supply of wealth if we do it right, and for no effort. It’s a good plan.”
“Well,” said Oslo refocusing the conversation, “how about Asp’s armored wagon hit?”
Dancer, Kyrn, and Candace immediately raised their hands. After a moment, so did Oslo. Asp looked shocked. Oslo has never voted for one of my plans. What’s going on?
“Seriously?” she finally managed.
“None of us took on lives of crime because we like the grind,” said Oslo, grinning. “What you’re proposing is a risk. But you’re right. There’s something big going on there, and this could be huge for us.”
“When you said that thing about why people would create an armored wagon like that, I stopped breathing for a second,” said Dancer in wonder. “I got chills.”
“Yeah,” said Kyrn. “I say we go for it.”
Oslo looked around the room. “Fair’s fair,” he said. “You don’t want to be a part of this big, risky plan, there’s no hard feelings.”
There was a tense silent moment. No one moved or spoke.
“Good,” said Oslo, rubbing his hands together. “We start work tomorrow. Might as well finish the day in style,” he said, pulling a pile of crowns from his coinpurse and passing out one to everyone. “Go out into the world and bring back the best thing you can for us to party with for one crown.”
Most of the gang tore out of the estate quickly, but Asp lingered. It still seemed surreal that her plan had been chosen. She noticed that Oslo, who hadn’t left, was scrutinizing her.
“Everything okay, Oslo?” she asked.
“Fine, fine,” he said as though he were bored. “Hey Asp, remember a few years back–you’d just started with us–you brought me all those sapphires?”
Asp’s jaw clenched. She had learned in the last two years to be deferential to Oslo–it seemed to make him happy–but being deferential wouldn’t solve this. “Yeah?” she asked, resigned.
“You said you saw a high roller set down a hefty coinpurse and you just grabbed it and got out of there.” Oslo spoke with deliberateness she hadn’t seen often from him.
“Right,” said Asp, waiting for the twist.
“How much did you keep?” Oslo asked.
Asp smiled at him. “Some,” she said. “But not as much as you’d think,” she lied. She thought of the dozen or so remaining sapphires stuffed into her mannequins.
“Given the amount, yeah, I would be surprised if you got your hands on much more,” said Oslo. “But the thing that gets me is, why did you share any of it? I mean, back then, you were new to the gang. I didn’t think you would have shared a fortune with us just yet. I don’t know if you’d do it now.”
“If you recall,” Asp said with a touch of venom in her voice, “you brought me on to sleep with an idiot curator. I’m fairly certain that you’re concerned because you realize it was your own actions that would have made me inclined not to share. And perhaps even more concerned because you know that I did so anyway, and you don’t know why.”
Oslo shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded like he was heavily weighed upon. “Gunther really gave me a scare there. I thought I was gonna have to make good on that threat. But you scared me too, and look at you now.” He breathed out hard. “It’ll all be fine.”
“Hey Oslo,” said Asp, “How did you even find me back then? I was keeping what I thought was a pretty low profile.”
Oslo grinned. “I’ve been impersonating guards ever since I was old enough to be a believable one.” He stretched in his chair. “I came through Thistlewade asking people about recent crimes–it’s a good way to get people talking about potential recruits. Sometimes you hear a story about a sloppy lift or a sketchy heist, and sometimes you hear about a con you can’t even begin to figure out. Your mom had a story to tell, I tell you what. You had taken the people in that town for about all they were worth, you know that?”
Asp smiled in spite of herself.
Oslo continued. “She said that even on her own amateur sleuthing, she could implicate you in more than a dozen jobs, but no one could prove you were so much as involved with even one of them. I thought to myself, I gotta meet this con and get her the hell away from her mother.”
Asp laughed. She felt like an adult being told stories of what they were like as a young child.
“So I check in with the guards,” continued Oslo. “They know nothing about any of your aliases, but they all know your real name: Heather Turnkey.”
Asp cringed at the name.
“And I think to myself, ‘here’s a con who can operate alone and undetected, but whose own family is gonna get her locked up.’ And I couldn’t stomach that thought, so I figured I’d pick you up.” Oslo finished his story and beamed at Asp.
“That’s all so great,” said Asp, feigning enthusiasm, then suddenly dropping the act. “What bothers me, though, is that almost none of that is true. You picked me up because you needed a mulberry bush.”
“You caught me,” he said, grinning crookedly. “But it sounded good, didn’t it?”
Asp brandished her crown. “I’m gonna go find something fun,” she said. “Thanks for the talk.”
“Take care, Asp,” he replied, “and beware the mothers in your life.”
On her way to the door, Rose came trotting up to Asp. “I’ll just be a good mother to you,” she told Rose, “and that will make up for all the other mothers we’ve had.”
You can read the next chapter here!
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