One
Ale trickledalong Lory’s chin, dripping onto her plain, sand-colored shirt as she set down her mug on the scratched surface of one of the twenty-three worn tables inside Lu’Shen’s tavern. None of the patrons here noticed her with her inconspicuous clothes, her simple braid tucked into the collar, and her face moderately clean, but not so clean as those of the women working in the adjacent rooms, trading pleasure for coin.
Guardians, how she hated that place, where men from the richer districts came to buy entertainment, but it was the best place to scout for a new mark and wait until they were drunk enough to make lifting whatever was left of their belongings from their pockets a feasible endeavor.
She despised the tavern even more on days like today, when patrons came in to flash their gold on the card tables and laugh and joke as they gambled it all away. How she hated the entirety of this sun-beaten, sand-covered, sweat-driving city.
Glancing around the room, Lory identified three potential marks for the night. The first was a tall, slim man with his black curls tied back into a bun, his deep brown skin beaded with sweat from the stuffy heat inside the tile-paneled room. His tunic matched the blue-and-gold patterns on the wall, as did the thick lapis lazuli ring on his middle finger. He grinned at the man across from him—shorter and bald but more graceful as he fanned his face with the cards in his hand, rubbing the index finger and thumb of his other hand along the beard surrounding his mouth.
At the same table, a third man sat, observing the game with mild interest, lifting his own mug every so often to take a sip of ale as if on a schedule. Short, sun-bleached hair and a close-cropped beard framed his harsh features, giving him the overall look of a grumpy noble who chose to hang out with the lower classes of the city. He was the one Lory had the highest hopes for. Instead of losing all his money in a quick, drunken game, he kept observing, his black eyes darting back and forth, assessing the two players with more intelligence than his fifth mug of ale should allow for.
Perhaps it made him the worst possible target, too. Someone who’d remember every last detail about who attacked him in the street and stole the well-filled leather pouch strapped to his belt—yes, Lory had noted that, too. Next to the forearm-long hunting knife, and a hay pipe carved fromnight-black wood, dangled enough coins to feed Lory for a week. She could even buy a new shirt instead of mending her old one for the hundredth time.
With a sigh, Lory took another sip from her mug, closing her eyes for just a moment as she inhaled the odor of too many people sweating in a too-small room, the perfume of the fragrances the ladies of Lu’Shen’s had left on the men now sprawling on cushioned chairs and eating in the tavern, the scent of food she couldn’t afford but had every intention to eat anyway the moment she got her hands on some leftovers on one of the cerulean ceramic plates.
Lory leaned forward as if that would help her hear the men’s conversation over the group of lutes, neys, and cymbals accompanying the culinary merriment. If she were patient enough, she’d sit it out until the man with the observant eyes and the crease between his brows got bored with the game and made his way out into the streets on a crooked path. And then she’d strike.
Just as she was calculating whether she’d take him down more easily by punching his nose or kicking him in the back, those eyes snapped up, assessing her with the same mild interest he’d been following the game with.
The blood in Lory’s veins froze for a heartbeat as she struggled to put on a bemused, drunk expression that would appear anything but threatening. One breath—two. The man’s mouth curled up in a half-grin, and he winked at her over the mug he was lifting yet again.
Half-heartedly, Lory raised her own mug in the customary silent way strangers did in Dunaii taverns, like a sharedlook would ease whatever burden they were trying to drink away, then lowered her gaze to the table.
One of the girls waiting tables in their colorful silk skirts and their low-cut blouses stopped right beside her, peering into the nearly empty mug between Lory’s fingers. “Anything else?”
Her saccharine smile suggested the choice was between more ale and clearing the table for customers willing to spend more than a few coins on a single mug all night long.
With a shake of her head, Lory glanced across the crowd toward the bar where Madame Lu’Shen was surveilling her tavern customers, probably marking which ones already had visited the other rooms and which ones were yet to take their pick and leave their gold on a nightstand, a grin on their faces and a spring in their steps.
“I’m done.” Lory didn’t bother looking away when Lu’Shen inclined her head, grizzled curls shifting around her aging face as she gave Lory a meaningful smile.
She’d seen the madame approach other girls in similar shape to Lory, offering them what she called ‘a better life’, and Lory tried not to recognize those girls among the women now sitting on some of the men’s laps, stroking their fingers down their chests and flashing acquiescent smiles.
Gathering up the small leather satchel she’d been carrying around like an extension of herself for the past two years, Lory got to her feet and popped a copper onto the table without looking at the server, before striding for the door, careful to act more drunk than the single mug of ale could ever make her.
At the door, she stole a quick glance over her shoulder, noting that the men were done with their game of cards, the one with the bun plopping a heap of coins into a leather bag before tying it and slinging the long strap over his shoulder. An easier target than the observant one, who was still sitting, nursing his ale with a bored expression.
We have a winner.Lory grinned into her linen scarf, slinging it around her head as she melted into the shadows outside the door, ready to track the man into a dark alley. There she waited, counting the minutes until the clock on the tall limestone tower marking the end of the district said it was two in the morning, and the bell announced it to the tavern dwellers.
The door opened, expelling a group of people, the man with the observant black eyes was among them. Shrinking against the wall, Lory made sure she remained hidden, her back flat against the still-warm stone and her eyes on the dispersing crowd. The one good thing about a curfew was that she knew she wouldn’t need to wait all night for her target to leave the tavern, while staying out on the streets this long meant the city guards would be picking up their patrols to make sure no stragglers were left within an hour.
One hour to procure her livelihood for the next week.
There he was: Smoothing his tunic out, the man with the bun and the lapis-lazuli ring left the two-story limestone building last, fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag as he wandered off in the opposite direction of Observant Eye.
Careful not to make any noise, Lory slipped out of her hiding spot the moment Top Knot turned the corner, pickingup pace to keep up with his long, lanky strides. With the way he was struggling to walk straight, Lory questioned whether she’d need to use violence to snatch the bag. Maybe a simple grab-and-run would suffice.
One more turn and they’d be far enough from Lu’Shen’s so no one would hear him scream when she’d dart off with his belongings. One more turn, and they’d be in Gargoyle territory. Not the street where the Gargoyles had killed her twin brother, Evven, but close enough to make her hesitate.
She couldn’t risk alerting anyone to her presence, and she couldn’t risk the Gargoyles taking the bag before she could. Breath locked in her throat, Lory snuck up on the man, drawing her knife with her left hand while, with her right, she reached for the strap. Before the man could make a sound, Lory jumped out of the shadows, kicking the back of Top Knot’s knees and knocking him on his ass. With her elbow, she landed a blow to his face hard enough to knock him out while she already pulled on the strap, ready to sever it and tearing the bag off the man’s still form.
That’s how she always did it—the knife merely there to cut loose whatever items she stole, but never stabbing her victims, neverkilling.
An image of Evven on the dirty ground of a back alley flashed through her mind, his hand on the hilt of a curved knife, ripping it out of his chest, and Lory’s stomach clenched. She needed to run before anyone spotted her and alerted the city guards or Top Knot could wake up and take back her prey. But more than that, she needed to get out of there before the Gargoyles could stab her like they did her brother.
With shaky breaths, Lory staggered back from the man sprawled on the street, turning around and readying to run—only to find her path blocked by a grinning Observant Eye, his hands hanging loosely by his hips, where a polished sword had been added to his belt on the other side from the knife and leather pouch.
“Going somewhere?” The bored, mildly drunk expression disappeared from his features as he scanned her from head to toe, sizing her up as an opponent.
