• Chapter 1

    The lamplight of the room was dim, hardly worth the name of being light at all. Illuminating only the largest figures and the most basic of furniture, including table, chairs and glasses, it was rarely a room where most would have liked to be. True, outside of the door was even worse, full of, at best, half-sober men readily able to drink themselves into unconsciousness, and eager to if given the chance, especially if any bet were to be made on any sort of contest. Though, as money was a rare commodity in the inn – or rather, money of any decent value, and not mere coppers that even beggars in the larger cities might turn down at seeing – it wasn’t surprising. Any chance to earn a bit, in any way, legal or not was welcome. And thus, Sarila felt as if she had once more been dropped into her childhood of thieving, pickpockets and ruffians of all sorts, those who used force and brute strength for what they wanted, and then the stealthier sorts of nondescript appearances, slipping away from the eye as quickly as they appeared and disappeared, usually a bit richer every time.
    The exact sort of pickpocket Sarila had been, stealing daily since she’d first had to make her living off of the streets those years twenty odd years ago. A bit of bread at first off of the vendor carts, then perhaps one or two apples, and then actual gold or silver – or copper if Lady Luck decided to pull a harsh trick on her follower – from the people themselves. It’d all gradually developed to breaking into individuals’ houses, learning the layout of the house from the inside and the outside, and then taking what they wanted quickly, with as few possible delays as could be managed, or else someone might have a chance to scream or some sort, summoning whatever guard might be rounding the corner, or just attracting the attention of a neighbor, something never relished by a thief. Especially when that thief was trying to steal a piece that was a bit heavier and considerably more valuable than her previous month’s stealing combined. Frowning at the unfortunate memory, and then feeling the slight tug next to her cerulean eye, which had been contributed to that certain event along with the large discoloring along her whole left arm which would have been revealed if she were not wearing long sleeves to hide that certain object of potential scrutiny and question itself, Sarila bit her lip in impatience, drawing the hidden dagger strapped to her inner forearm and stabbing it irritably into the already irrevocably damaged table in front of her, gouges and scratches donated from others like herself in the years before.
    On her feet at the sound of an opening door and dagger held securely in her hand, Sarila peered uneasily at the stranger in a brown cloak and mask, only able to make out a pair of green eyes and firm jaw. That could describe hundreds of people she knew, and thousands of people in general. Opening her mouth to interrogate the man, her eyes flashed as a familiar twinkle came into the man’s eye and a certain indiscreet finger gesture at his side. Suspicion erased, the thief laughed merrily and sheathed her dagger in a quick motion, next to the man just some few seconds later, pressing a firm kiss against his lips and tearing the mask off of his face, now revealed to be shockingly handsome. One of the many reasons she had been betrothed to him for any amount of times. They’d both lost count. It had always ended for some reason or another though. He did something just plain down annoying or irritating, they didn’t have the time to actually be a ‘couple’, or any other thing that could be thought of. At the moment, they were just keeping their positions as close friends and were content with it, though they still had to berate friends at any teases they could come up with. This was quite often, irritatingly enough.
    “You lousy a**, what are you doing here? I was told that I would meet somebody who could give me first hand information, a stranger, not someone like you, you crazy b*****d.” Sarila chuckled, lightly cuffing him across the head before slipping her dagger into her hand again, and pressing the flat edge against his chest, arching an eyebrow. “Because you know that we aren’t strangers. And there is no possible way that you, Deliv, could have first hand information.”
    Deliv shrugged, though a smirk tugged at his lips. Ah. So something about what she said was funny. But what could that be?
    “You’re partially right, Sarila. Deliv couldn’t have first had information. But, Tyr could.” The brunette blinked, frowning slightly, trying to puzzle it out before rolling her eyes. So that was what was so funny. It made sense, considering her friends sense of humor in matters such as information.
    “So I may assume that you are Tyr as well as Deliv, and probably tens of hundreds of other people as well, correct?” Sarila said, mirth lacing her voice as she backed up and sat herself on the table, one leg crossed over the other and blade balancing precariously on her propped knee as she waited for an answer, mind already turning over thoughts though. Such as how did Deliv, a quite known thief, manage to get first hand information in one of the most reputable homes of the city? Quite an accomplishment for anybody. Especially as he’d already brought the wrath of the home owner upon himself before, as he’d been caught having a roll with the lord’s wife. Though it wasn’t like she’d particularly fought it. After all, anybody with a brain and ear could have noticed the hints she gave him when they’d met in the market. Though it was far easier to blame the thief, even if half the time the damn lord and ladies deserved the pickpocket for being so self-assured of their own wealth and protection. As if they weren’t wealthy enough to give a gold or two to someone just a tad bit less fortunate! Bah.
    As if able to sense the thief’s thoughts, which he probably was due to the constant time they’d spent together, Deliv shrugged and put an arm around her shoulders, sitting himself on the table as well. “Perhaps. But let us stick with Tyr right now, shall we?”