Vergel’s not in an adventurous mood after what went down last night. “I think I’m gonna sit the next one out, boss.” He reaches into the folds of his cloak, then pulls out a bit of dried meat and begins chewing on it nervously. Me and Vergel have been friends since we were street rats stealing apples from carts and running dice games by the side of the road. If I’m the brains of the operation, Vergel’s all heart. Half the time we don’t even keep the coin from our scores, as Vergel feeds most of the Ophir orphans around town from our purse. Since we were those kids not too long ago. He’s a few years younger than me at fifteen.
I throw my arm around Vergel and squeeze his shoulder playfully. “Come on, now, I need my right-hand man.”
Vergel shrugs me off. “Not after last night’s mess. We need to fix that first, not make it worse.”
I shake my head. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Come on. Don’t you trust me by now? When have I ever been unable to get us out of a bind? Never. We had a minor setback, that’s all.”
“The Blackcoats killed Angel.” Vergel spits on the ground. Angel lost his life from a Blackcoat arrow when we ran.
My cheek twitches, and my voice is low. “He was my friend, too.” And if I could, I’d avenge our lost brother. But there’s no justice for our kind.
Vergel sighs.
“Just one more big job and we’re set.”
“That’s what you said about last night,” Vergel grumbles.
I hold up my finger. “One! That’s it. Come on! We’ll make bank!” The beggar across the street stops walking. I clutch the dagger beneath my coat, a reflex, but the man starts moving again. False alarm. Thunder rumbles in the distance. An ominous cloud moves over the sun, casting the streets into half-darkness.
“Or we screw up again, we get nothing, and this time wealldie,” Vergel continues.
I scoff. “Don’t insult me. Blackcoatsneverpatrol that area. That wasn’t a screwup, it was an unforeseen complication. Bad luck is all. Pretty sure they were tipped off. Otherwise, it doesn’t make sense. I spent months planning that job. Down to the very last detail. That plan wasflawless.” So flawless I’d financed the entire thing with loans and big promises, as we’d had to disguise ourselves as rich Laconians and spend like them to get inside the place. I took out loans with exorbitant interest. Loans I swore on my life I’d be able to pay back the day after the heist. If I don’t figure out a way to do that, fast, I’m a dead man. “Come on, I say we hit one of those golden houses on the hill. Try stealing from those who have more, not those who barely have more than us.”
Vergel won’t look directly at me. “No licensed Guild thief would dare target one of the estates. They know the consequences. So, if a palace is raided, even—no,especially—if it’s raided successfully, they’ll know exactly who to look for. Street thieves. Specifically, the only street thieves who would dare target an estate.Us.If we were the only ones who would pay for it, I might feel different, but you know the Blackcoats will take it out on every single one of us they can get their hands on, simply because they can. Not to mention, if you piss off the Thieves’ Guild, thenthey’llcome for us, too. Last thing we need is more enemies.”
“You act like we Ophir get many options, Vergel. You’d rather be like him?” I motion toward the ragged man shuffling through the dirt. “Hopeless, helpless, unable to do anything about anything?” I snort.
“At least no one’s on his tail,” Vergel argues.
“I’d rather starve than beg,” I say.
As if he heard, the beggar turns abruptly to face us. I look away, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him start to cross the road, inching closer and closer to us. I try to speak quietly enough that Vergel can hear me but the beggar can’t. “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper. Maybe one of my spurned benefactors sent someone after me already.
“What?” Vergel asks loudly.
“I said, let’s get—”
“I beg your pardon,” the beggar calls out as he approaches.
I curse under my breath.
“Eban Sadreal?” the beggar asks, flashing his best salesman smile, then turns his head left and right to check whether anyone else is around.
Not good. I know something’s up. I reach for the dagger again. “Sorry, but you’re mistaken, old man. No Eban here.”
The man keeps coming. Vergel’s on alert now, too, ready to pull his blade. “What is this?” he mutters. “Guild?”
I shrug, then shout, “We haven’t any coin, or food,” partly as a warning.Don’t bother coming any closer.Or else.
It doesn’t deter him. The man waves his hand, as if to say none of that is a concern.
Both of us are on our feet now. The beggar’s only a few steps away. I take note of the clean hands peeking out from the tattered robes. One of those hands wears a thick silver ring featuring an obsidian stone. Then I realize: The rags are a costume, this whole scene a farce. To what end, I’m not sure. But a Blackcoat would never lower themselves to evenpretendthey’re destitute, and a Guild thief wouldn’t be so obvious. So who is this stranger?
Once he’s beneath our shade, the beggar stops shuffling and straightens up. “I hear you’re in a tight spot, Eban Sadreal. Luckily, I may have the solution to all your problems.”
I stare him down. “Funny, you don’t look like a fairy godmother.”
Vergel snorts.
