SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

She turned her palm over and let a single breadcrumb tumble to the ground. Jasper’s eyes locked on it as his stomach screamed that he had to eat that crumb, that it was the only thing that could satiate him, and that if he didn’t eat it he would starve to death right there. Drool began to spill out of his mouth.

"Well, Mr. Montgomery?" asked Fuamnach. "You have ten seconds—"

Jasper got the silken chains on in five.

Originally published in Tales of Tellest: Volume 1

Light and laughter spilled out from the Sapphire Square and over its patio, extending all the way to the edge of the Spirit River. Clusters of people moved through the inn’s backyard, some having stepped outside to enjoy the flowers and the cool breezes, while others were about to return to the inn to revisit the buffet tables and—more likely—the open bar. Nobility mingled with merchants, tradesmen laughed at the jokes of gladiators, and even the servants seemed willing to chatter with their esteemed guests. It was, truly, a perfect night.

One of the putative servants, unable to stifle her grin any longer, put down her tray of drinks and turned away from the crowd to hide her smile. Jadie Rivers had never visited Atalatha before; her whole life had been spent in Westwick, studying at the hands of stern, unyielding masters, and having little to do with her moments of leisure save watching pigs scampering around their market pens. But now, at last, she had completed her apprenticeship. She was a full member of the Westwick Thieves Guild, out on her first mission ever, ready to do her city and her teachers proud. How could she do anything but smile?

But she did have a job to do, and so, after a moment, she got herself under control and turned towards the next table. Jadie’s ultimate target was the Lady Trefaer, whom rumor had indicated would be wearing her famous set of diamonds—a personal gift from the Duke himself—at the party. She had not yet arrived, but several other specimens of the wealthy-and-hapless variety were there, and as her teachers always said, there was never a bad time to practice her skills. The very next table, for instance, held three people with empty glasses and more jewelry than was good for them. Jadie smiled to herself and approached.

No sooner had she reached the table than she took stock of her targets. The first, a Maquis by the looks of his robes, was wearing several large gemstones of poor quality, likely the victim of an unscrupulous jeweler and his own ignorance of what such stones were truly worth. The merchant next to him wore a dozen cheap rings on her fingers as if she was trying to show off wealth through sheer quantity. But the third, Baron Orthlo, flashed an expensive emerald on a bracelet as he gesticulated. Now that was a stone worthy of Jadie’s attention. The thief—unable to stop her smile from returning to her face—moved near him.

“…I’m just glad they finally worked out the treaty,” Orthlo was telling the others. “Warus isn’t even a nation, not really. Just a mob of competing tribes. Completely impossible to settle; you put up a city one year, some band of gnolls or kobolds razes it the next.” He shook his ale mug in protest. “But now that we have some allies over there, I think we’re finally on track to start stabilizing that territory. Maybe adding some of it to our own.”

The Maquis frowned. “I heard a bunch of feral kaja overran a human settlement in western Warus,” he said. “It might be more difficult than—”

“Mere rumors.” Orthlo laughed. “Even if they’re true, our ambassadorial delegation will include a full complement of soldiers. They’re more than a match for a few half-crazed kaja. No, I’m certain things will be easier, at least in the political sense.”

“In the economic sense too,” the merchant added. “An entire untapped market—and we’re in the best position to reach it. Once the ambassadorial team arrives, my caravans will be right behind them. As will most of the others in Raleigh, I imagine.”

“And as a member of that ambassadorial team, allow me to say that you have my full support!” said Orthlo. “Here’s to new opportunities!”

As he rose his glass, his other hand leaned against the bush behind him. Jadie moved up behind him and let her hand touch the leaves of that bush. Grab his hand , Jadie told the bush. Just a few branches. Come on. She smiled to herself. It’ll be fun.

The bush slowly shifted, Orthlo’s hand slipping inside the bush as a few of its branches rearranged themselves. Orthlo, in the middle of toasting, said nothing.

“Excuse me!” said Jadie, stepping between them with her tray of drinks. “More sweet wine?”

“I’ll have a glass,” said Orthlo. He tried to move forwards but stopped as his hand pulled at the bush. The other two members of his group laughed as he tried to extricate himself. “Just give me a minute…”

“Allow me,” said Jadie merrily. She leaned over and reached into the bush with one hand, telling it, Thanks! You can let go now! Between them, unseen by all, her other hand flicked up the clasp of his bracelet and swiped it—as well as a few rings he was wearing for good measure—into the large pocket of her uniform. But then she gently pulled Orthlo’s hand from the bush, and drinks were served, and she retreated knowing it would be a very long time before Orthlo even noticed the theft.

There were people, Jadie knew, who had staggeringly powerful magical gifts—the ability to summon fire from their hands, or drain health with a thought, or cause a forest to sprout in moments and tear through city walls like damp parchment. Jadie was not one of them. She could coax plants into helping her out just a little: releasing pollen, for instance, or twisting a few branches when needed. It might not have been a terribly powerful kind of magic, but it was hers, and she liked it. And she couldn’t deny that it did come in handy in her line of work.

She crossed the garden, stealing two coin purses, one set of earrings, and a gorgeously wrought ceremonial dagger along the way, until she noticed a small group clustered on the bank of the Spirit River. Curious, Jadie headed towards them, directing the moss on the bottom of her shoes to muffle her footsteps. The moss took a few moments to respond—it was the laziest plant in the world, in Jadie’s experience—but it finally did so, smoothing over the bottoms of her shoes so they didn’t make a sound. Jadie served her way to the bank of the river, moved closer to the group, and listened.

“I already told you, pay up front,” growled a voice that sounded almost like a series of barks. Jadie stiffened as one of the figures straightened and she saw a distinctly dog-like head. A gnoll? Really? Woah. “Do you mind hurrying this up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay longer, Hwarl?” drawled one of the other figures in a rough voice. “Can’t imagine gladiators eat like this often.”

“Food might be worse, but the company’s better,” snarled Hwarl. “Least there the people aren’t whispering to each other ‘bout which of them I’ll eat first.”

“I nominate Stebbins Hartley,” said another of the figures. “I owe him money.” And the group laughed.

Jadie looked around and saw several rows of flowers growing on the bank. One row—she noted with a smile—was full of chrysanthemums, flowers which could produce truly staggering amounts of pollen. She knelt and picked a few, slipping them into the drinks on her tray like overly frilly garnishes.

“Look,” the gnoll was snarling. “I brought the merchandise. Are we doing this or not?”