Erin Evans - The God Catcher

"One thing at a time," she muttered under her breath, and turned the page.

The antiquary's shop was deep in the Trades Ward, to the southwest of where the God Catcher slept. In the depth of the night, not a street or alley seemed to be in its right place. Every path seemed either to be too full of shadows and threats or too full of lights and watching eyes. Searching street signs and dodging meant it took the better part of an hour to find Jembril Street.

The Timehands rang the hour before deepnight.

Tennora's heart pounded as hard as the hammers on the bells, but thrice as fast, as she stood in the shadows across the street from Treasures of the Ages, a modest and neatly painted shop. A pair of enchanted lamps flickered heatlessly with a pattern that had nothing to do with the draft that blew down the way. The interior was faintly lit by the cool, unwavering light of a few glowballs.

"That's it?" Nestrix said almost reverently.

"Yes," Tennora said. She rubbed a thumb over the lumpy silhouettes of the lockpicks in the pack strapped to her belt. No one came in or out of the shop. No one moved in the light of the glowballs. They had no reason to turn back, she thought.

Nestrix started to cross the street, but Tennora caught her arm.

"Wait. We have to do this quickly," she said.

"What way is quicker than going now?"

Tennora scowled at her. "I'll do the door. You watch the street. If someone comes…" She licked her lips. "We can't be caught doing this."

"I am not stupid either," Nestrix said. "I'll watch. If someone comes, I'll take care of it."

They slipped through the light of the street lamp and into the shadows beside the door. Tennora let out a breath as she stepped back into the safety of the darkness.

I can still go back, she thought.

She stayed, pressed against the wall of the antiquary's shop, just out of the reach of the lamps. After this, she would be a criminal. Even if they never caught her, never suspected her, she would be a thief. If she didn't steal the mask, if she bolted and ran back to the God Catcher, she had a chance.

She glanced over at Nestrix.

Spells first, she thought, and slid into the light to face the door. The lock was heavy and brutally obvious-she hoped the spell was the same.

She reached out her senses and felt for the changes, the reorganization of the threads that would show her how the spell hung on the entry.

Nothing.

She waved her fingers over the doorway. Still nothing.

There was no ward on the door.

Tennora frowned and tried to feel for it again. The door was dead.

Anxiety trilled through her thoughts. A shop that sold antiques should have a ward or two in addition to the heavy lock. If Tennora couldn't sense one, perhaps the ward it had was stronger than she could detect… but detecting magic was something Tennora was actually quite good at. It would have to have been a massive, expensive spell. One the antiquary shouldn't have spent coin on.

So-which was more likely? The antiquary was wealthy and paranoid, or the antiquary was lax about the state of his or her wares?

She said a little prayer to the goddess of luck that it was the latter and slid the kit out from under her cloak.

Tennora slipped the turning tool out of its pocket and into the keyhole. Nothing tripped. Her hands shook and her fingers didn't want to keep hold of the pick. She gripped it in her fist and took a long slow breath.

Focus, she told herself, and slid the pick into the keyhole.

The lock was complicated. Eight pins, as far as she could feel, and they were set so straight that she worried there would be nothing to bind the tumblers. Tennora willed herself to relax, to stay steady as she lifted the pins one by one into their homes.

"Someone's coming," Nestrix whispered, and a second later footsteps rang on the cobbles. Tennora cursed under her breath, and her hands started shaking.

"Get into the shadows," Nestrix ordered.

"Just a moment," Tennora whispered back, as another pin clicked into place. "I'm so close."

"Now!"

"Distract him!" Another pin clicked into place. If she stood, Tennora would have to let go of the tension and lose all her progress. She scraped along the top of the keyhole, hunting for the last two pins. The first one rose and fell easily. Tennora swore and went for the second.

Nestrix growled. From the second pouch around her neck, she pulled a packet of greased paper. She turned it over, shaking the contents into her cupped hand.

The footsteps were getting closer. Tennora risked a glance back. A young man in a heavily embroidered cloak of amethyst purple was walking down the street, still several buildings down.

Nestrix looked down at her. "Appreciate this, dokaal," she said, and stepped around Tennora.

She tossed the powder she had held in her hand into the air above her. As it drifted down, the silvery motes caught the light before settling on their skin. Tennora's skin prickled, and she nearly dropped the tools to scratch it.

"Don't speak," Nestrix whispered. "He can still hear you."

Which was when Tennora realized she couldn't see Nestrix any longer. Where Nestrix had stood, there was no one and nothing but the cool night air. She was still there, however-her strong hand clasped Tennora's shoulder.

"Keep working."

Tennora lifted the pick with a sudden jerk. The second pin locked. She hissed.

The sound of the young man's footsteps stopped. Nestrix's grip tightened on her shoulder.

Tennora dared not move, dared not breathe. He came a few steps toward them. Nestrix's grip relaxed, as if she meant to have her hand free, and the smell of storms billowed off her.

Please, Tennora thought, run away.

"Ahoy?" the man said. "Coins bright? Is someone there?"

Neither woman spoke. The man stood there watching for what felt like an eternity. Tennora's hands cramped around the lockpicks.

He spat loudly and muttered a curse under his breath, before his footsteps continued off into the night.

Bless us, Tymora, Tennora thought, and let that be the worst we encounter.

"What was that powder?" she whispered to Nestrix as she released the tension on the tumblers just a hair.

"The last of the wizard's gifts."

The pin dropped, like a blessing from above, and Tennora eased a little more tension back into the tumbler. This time it clicked into place without much trouble. Tennora breathed a sigh of relief and, despite still wanting to cast a fireball at him, silently thanked Sovann for the lesson. She went after the last pin.

"What wizard?"

"The one in Cormyr," Nestrix said. "He wasn't using it."

Click. Tennora looked up at Nestrix, who was slowly fading back into sight. "It's not a gift if you take it."

"Fine," Nestrix said with a cold smile. "Spoils."

Inside the shop the walls were lined with iron cases set with panes of glass that revealed within golden bowls, chains, and goblets; jewel-studded collars and belts; and delicate statues of gods and kings. Faint light shone from a trio of caged glowballs, and the metal reflected it coldly.

"What in the-" Nestrix said. Tennora hushed her. Nestrix scowled. "There's something strange here," she whispered.

"A trap?"

"No," Nestrix said. "These treasures-"

"Then let it wait," Tennora whispered.

There was a door at the back of the shop-a heavy, windowless door. Tennora crept toward it, scanning the floor for inconsistencies.

Aha! There before the doorway-just where a person would have to kneel to pick the lock-the boards had been cut away in a square and reset. The edge blended into the grain and the grooves of the rest of the floor, but when Tennora felt gingerly along the suspected edge, there was the faintest gap around it. She bit her lip.

From the looks of it, pressure would set off the trap. She unrolled her kit and picked through the various tools until she found a stout rod with a tapered tip-not too unlike the turning tool. She wedged the tip under the edge of the panel and eased back. It lifted away from the floor. Tennora felt something tugging back on the panel-the mechanism beneath. From the way it didn't want to ride up more than a hairbreadth or so, the trap had to be connected fairly close to the edge.