Elaine Cunningham - Honor Among Thieves

And Fox, night take him, could not stop chatteringabout the iron-clad wench!

When Vishni could take no more she wheeled around toface Fox and stomped on his foot. Not hard enough to break bones,but with enough force to earn her an incredulous stare and a fewmoments of blessed silence.

“Muldonny?” she said. “Remember him? The adept whorules Stormwall Island? Owner of the fortress we plan toinfiltrate? Looks like a fat, balding squirrel?”

That drew a snort of laughter from Fox. “He isvaguely squirrel-shaped, now that you mention it. And by allreports, he has a temperament to match. Honor says-”

“I don’t care.”

Truth be told, Vishni didn’t much care for any ofthis. Skulking around Stormwall Island, walking bridges with ironrails she couldn’t touch, watching people slaughter fish that werein no position to fight back.

At least their trip to the long pier where passengerships docked had proved fruitful.

She slipped one hand into a skirt pocket and gave thecontents an affectionate pat. Several visiting alchemists werelisted on the passenger manifests she’d stolen, but one presentedunusually promising storytelling potential.

The name Insa’amid was known in her homeland. If hersuspicions were correct, kidnapping this particular alchemist wouldmake Fox’s task easier. More importantly, it would add a poignanttouch and maybe even a bit of irony to the unfolding story.

But that was a game for another day. Her gaze skimmedthe wharfs in search of some immediate source of diversion.

Two men struggled to lift a huge, sword-nosed fishfrom a wooden boat. Both men were roughly clad, fair-haired, andstrong enough to put up an interesting fight. The older man lookedlike he’d had some practice at it. A scar meandered across hisforehead and his nose had that pleasantly bumpy, crooked look ofone that’d been broken a time or two. If there was more damage, itwas hidden by the man’s long blond beard.

Vishni liked long beards. Grabbing hold of themduring a fight was one of her favorite strategies. No one everseemed to expect it, which was half the fun.

“I don’t like the looks of that smile,” Fox said.

She adjusted her expression until she was certain nofluffy kitten had ever looked as innocent.

“See that woman by the nets? The pretty, young onewho’s sorting fish? She has an odd sort of ring.”

“You must have eyes like a hawk. I can’t see it fromhere.”

The fairy held up a little silver hoop set with chipsof green and blue sea glass. “Is this better?”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing withthat?”

“Keeping it safe! She put it in her apron pocketbefore she started working. Taking it from her pocket when wewalked past was as easy as smiling. Anyone could have done it.”

The thief sighed. “We don’t steal from fisherfolk,Vishni. You know that. They have troubles enough.”

“Oh, the ring will turn up,” she said airily. “Maybein her pocket, or on the table, or inside a fish. .”

Angry voices rose from the dock, where two mencrouched beside a mixture of fish guts and treasure.

Fox squinted toward the pile of gold. Since each coinwas large enough to cover the palm of Vishni’s hand, it made quitea pile.

“Veldooni currency, Vishni? Seriously?”

The distant land of Veldoon had been on Vishni’s mindsince she’d picked an alchemist to charm and kidnap.

“Why not?”

“If I was going to create an illusion of treasurespilling out of a fish’s belly, my first choice wouldn’t be coinsfrom a land-locked desert country. A fist-sized emerald would bemore believable.”

That made sense, but Vishni had never admitted tomaking a mistake and saw no reason to start now.

She gestured toward the dock, where the two fishermenwere now standing toe to toe. Their shoulders were squared, theirchests expanded with as much air and male menace as they couldhold.

“Tell me,” she said loftily, “that they don’t looklike men who think bigger means better.”

As she spoke, it occurred to her that humans were alot like tomcats. Both tried to make themselves look bigger beforestarting a fight. For a moment she considered giving the fishermenthe illusion of tails. In their current frame of mind, those tailswould be very fluffy. And it would be amusing to watch the tailstwitch and swish like an angry cat’s.

The expression on Fox’s face suggested that thiswould be more trouble than it was worth.

“What are you up to?” he said.

“Didn’t you notice the way that woman keeps lookingat the younger fisherman?”

“So?”

“So she’s married to the older fisherman.” Shebeamed. “Want to know how I figured this out?”

“No.”

Vishni ignored this. “The boy who’s carrying away thebaskets of fish she’s sorting? I heard him call her Melina. That’sthe name written on the side of the fishing boat. Humans name boatsafter their people. Or maybe it’s the other way around,” she said.She gave herself a little shake. “Anyway, since the young fishermanis the one who gutted the fish, he’s obviously the worker and notthe owner.”

“Leave them alone, Vishni.”

“Once, you might have been interested in the plightof a common fisherman,” she said sadly. “Once, you had a grand andimportant quest of your own.”

A flicker of something that humans called “guilt”skittered across Fox’s face. Vishni didn’t understand this emotion,but it proved useful every now and again.

“Besides,” she added in a more cheerful tone, “everycollection of stories should have a morality tale of somesort.”

Fox drew breath to protest. She clapped her hand overhis mouth and tipped her head toward the dock to signify that theyshould stop talking and listen.

“The fish is mine,” insisted the bearded fisherman.“Any treasure in its belly is mine, as well.”

“No man can say I take anything that isn’t mine.” Theyoung man sent an insolent look toward the fish-sorting woman.“Leastwise, nothing that isn’t offered.”

The older man’s face darkened as he glanced at thewoman, who’d stopped her work to watch the small drama.

“If it’s my Melina you’re talking about, you’re aliar. And I can see by that coin in your shirt pocket that you’re athief, as well.”

“You know it’s my night to buy ale for the boys.”

“Not with my coin, you won’t!”

The youth sneered and held out hands that were bloodyto the elbow. “You go ahead and reach in after it. If it’s clean,you’ll know it came from no fish.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the bearded fishermanthrust his hand into the younger man’s pocket.

Both men stared blankly at the hoop of silver in hispalm.

“Or the ring could turn up in someone else’s pocket,” Vishni added demurely.

Fox snatched the real ring from Vishni’s hand andhurried toward Melina, who was watching this exchange with a whiteface and guilty eyes.

“Did you by chance drop this ring?” he asked in acarrying voice.

Her husband turned toward them, murder simmering inhis eyes. “Another?” he roared. “How many markers do you have out,woman?”

Before Fox could say another word, both men rushed athim with raised and ready fists.

Vishni tapped her chin as she watched the brawl.“Multiple rings,” she murmured. “Yes, that would improve the taleconsiderably.”

Until this afternoon, Honor had never felt any desireto explore Sevrin. It felt strange to be walking the broad streetsand winding, narrow byways like any human.

There were so many of them, striding here and therewith great purpose. A few, like Honor, took a more leisurely pace,enjoying the gift of a fine summer day.