I smile.
“What do you mean? We must walk in the muck of the street?” The lady looks aghast, like she’s never walked an inch on her own two feet. She probably hasn’t.
“Come, my dear. It is only a short way.”
I curl my hand around the stone in my pocket and count three breaths. Then I toss it over their heads so it bounces off the walls of the alley, setting a neighbor’s dog barking.
“What was that?” The lady huddles closer to her husband. “I have heard the streets are full of brigands lately.”
Her husband gestures to the servant. “Go and see that we are not about to be attacked on the way to the chair.”
The unfortunate man hurries off, leaving the door unguarded, just as I hoped he would.
One more stone draws their eyes to the alley, and I make my move. Slipping out from behind the pillar, I tiptoe on silentfeet and sneak inside the mansion. The riskiest moment is here where I must pause to slip the dirty rags off my feet and wipe my footprints from the marble hall, covering my tracks.
I work quickly, tucking the dusty fabric into my belt and hurrying on. I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it into their large bedroom undetected.
I gaze longingly at the fat ruby pendant draped across a golden hanger at her dressing table. Too recognizable. There are plenty of gold chains and earrings, bracelets and rings that can be melted down and sold so my trip is not a waste of time, but I could eat for the rest of my life on what I’d make on that ruby if I could take it.
With a sigh, I stash my stolen gold and climb out the window just in time to avoid the servant who comes snooping around, checking each room. I hear them enter and wait until the footsteps move away again before even letting out my breath.
Digging my fingers and toes into little holes in the masonry, I clamber onto the roof and make my getaway.
The streets are busy tonight, filled with wealthy theater goers, people selling tiny glass trinkets, spun sugar vendors, and beggars. Stray dogs dart between the food trolleys, and heat rises from the bricks, even though the night air has grown almost chill.
I leap to the next building, scrambling a little to get my balance before running and jumping to the next. It’s easier to travel this way, less risk of being caught. A life spent on the streets has taught me a few useful skills.
I’m making my way across town to the jeweler by the river who will melt down the gold for me and share my takings. Smoke and steam rise from the chimneys of the bathhouse, but my attention is caught by shouting from below.
“Were you born yesterday? What nonsense is this? Women do not enter the men’s baths. Everyone knows that.”
I huddle down into the shadow of a chimney rising from the bathhouse roof to watch.
A burly man with a face covered in stubble and a gold cuff on his upper arm shakes a shapely woman who cowers in his grip. Her long hair is unbound and flows down her back, glistening like a river. Her figure is all curves. Hips for days and a narrow waist She has on the most delicate silk slippers I’ve ever seen, and she looks as out of place as a giant red boil on a prostitute's bosom.
She’s none of my concern, though. I’m about to turn away when she slips from the man’s grip, and instead of running, she glares at him in outrage. “How dare you touch me? Do you not know who I am?”
Oh, so I was right about her. Is she some rich man’s daughter who accidentally took a wrong turn and lost her maid? I wonder how much he would pay to have her back again.
I’m already sliding over the gutter and dropping to the ground when I hear the smack of flesh on flesh as the bathhouse man slaps her.
She gasps and clutches her face. Time for me to intervene here before things get really heated. Rushing over, I wrap my arm around her. “Velara, there you are! You know you shouldn’t go wandering off alone.” Turning to the man, I give him an apologetic smile. “Please excuse my sister. She’s not altogether there.” I twist my finger near my head just to make sure my message penetrates his thick skull.
His eyes narrow. “Your sister?”
“What are you talking about?” The woman tries to break from me, but I hold her still.
Lowering my voice, I whisper into her ear. “Play along unless you want to lose an eye.”
Thankfully, the woman is smarter than she looks. “Papa, do not be silly. I am not your sister. I am your daughter.”
The man folds his arms across his broad chest. God, he looks like he could tear me apart. I hope I don’t have to fight him. “You do know the penalty for a woman entering the men’s bathhouse.”
“Of course, sir. But please be kind. She isn’t well.”
The woman twists in my arms and reaches out to something invisible beside us. “Oh, mama, what a pretty dress.” Now she’s overdoing it. I wish she’d stop, but I can’t say anything.
Instead I pat her shoulder. “Come, Velara. We must get you home.” I throw another pleading look at the guard, who only shakes his head. There is now a queue of men waiting at the door, and thankfully he turns away.
