Энди Вейр - Rat

Cyfraith let her go. “You know the drill, children. Whatever you’re up to, I get five percent.”

Dahm shrugged. “We’re not up to anything, Corporal. We’re just law-abiding citizens of the city.”

“Bullshit,” said Cyfraith. “What’s the score?”

Dahm shrugged. “Not a thing. Rat and I were just talking about sewing. Say, Rat, did I mention that the buttons can be sewed after the garment is made?”

Rat thought for a moment and said “All right, but only if it’s a fine garment.”

Dahm smiled, saying. “Maybe you could have a blackbirds motif with triple lining. And it could all be done in leather.”

Rat nodded. “Should it be a man’s vest or a woman’s?”

“Definitely a man’s.”

“Then that’s all I needed to know.”

Rat and Dahm turned to Corporal Cyfraith and smiled innocently.

Cyfraith looked at them agape. “What in the land of many doors was that shit?”

Rat shrugged. “Sewing advice.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

As she wove through the crowd, she thought ahead to that evening’s activities. The thief’s lingo she and Dahm had been speaking was complicated and she had to unwind it in her mind. The money ("buttons") could be paid to Dahm after she did the job (after the garment was made.) She agreed, with the stipulation that she had to get at least a Noble in loot (a fine garment). The address was number 24 (blackbirds) on the third (triple lining) road along Cattle road (leather). She needed to know if that turn on to the third road was left or right (man’s or woman’s vest.). He answered that it would be a man’s vest, meaning turn right, because men’s clothes buttoned on the right.

“Let’s see…” she mumbled to herself. “Third right along Cattle road is…” she pictured the area in her mind, “Shale Way.” Her target: 24 Shale way. The price for the information: 1 Noble after the job is done, if the job pulls more than a Noble.

She shook her head. “Whew.” Unraveling thief’s lingo was a strain. But a strain those in her profession could do, and one that was not taught to the watch.

Rat eyed 24 Shale Way from across the street. About half an hour ago, she had faintly heard the bells tolling midnight from the Mage’s Quarter. There was no moon, and no rain. It was a bit cold in the winter air, but otherwise it was perfect for her to ply her trade.

She had watched the house for three hours, and in that time, there had been no sound, and no movement. Certainly no firelight.

She made her way across the street and began to climb the alley-facing wall of the residence. It was a two story home. That was good news for Rat. A two story home implied some tiny degree of money, and therefore some decent possibilities for loot.

In a different alley across the street, Corporal Cyfraith watched Rat work. He smiled. He had followed her around all day to catch the score. He knew those two degenerates weren’t talking about sewing, but had to follow Rat to find out what the plan was. If he couldn’t get a cut of the action, at least he could bolster his image in the watch by catching a burglary in progress.

Rat scaled the wall with practiced ease and selected a suitable window for her entry. She opened it silently and slipped in. She stood silently for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. While there was very little light outside, there was the occasional window with firelight and the stars to constrict her pupils.

Without moving, she got a feel for the room. The murky shapes suggested a bed, night table, and dresser. Rat had long ago learned not to fuss with dressers. All the good stuff was generally in the front room or kitchen. Silverware, for instance.

She spied what suggested with its shape to be a doorway and padded across the room toward it.

There are many things that can send a thief into a panic. The sound of the front door, or worse, an internal door opening could do it. The growl of a dog can be a lethal warning. The hiss of a cat can awaken even the most sturdy sleepers. What Rat experienced was much worse, because none of those things held a candle to the heart-stopping shock of having a hand grab your wrist in a supposedly empty room.

Rat made an unintelligible gasping noise and fell to the floor more from shock than anything else. The hand held on with a vice like grip.

The owner’s other hand was busy with an oil lamp on the night stand. Soon, the room was full of light, and Rat met Glawyn for the first time.

Glawyn, clad in a knee-length sleeping shirt, was muscular, to be sure. But the strength he exhibited holding on to Rat’s squirming wrist was uncanny, even for a man in as good a shape as he.

He looked down at his prey. “Well, well,” he smiled. “What have we here? A visitor?”

Rat made another feeble attempt to escape.

“Hey, hey! Relax,” said Glawyn. He smiled his winning smile again. Something in his eyes was overtly friendly. He was not toying with her, and was talking to her as if they were meeting in some normal way. “My name’s Glawyn. What’s yours?”

Fortunately for Rat, Glawyn had her by the right wrist, probably assuming she was right-handed. With her free hand, she pulled a dagger from a leg sheath. “Take your hand off my wrist or I’ll cut it off!”

“You’ll cut off your wrist?”

“Your hand!” Rat yelled. “I’ll cut off your hand!”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” he said, still hanging on to her wrist. He pulled her gently to a standing position. “I’m Glawyn. Who are you?”

Rat had never attacked anyone while robbing a place before. She did not want to start now. Still, she held the dagger up menacingly. “Let me go!”

Glawyn smiled again. “Are you a present from Father?”

Rat was taken aback. “What?”

“Father always says I need experience with women. I say I can wait until I marry. What do you think?”

Rat turned red. “You think I’m a whore!?”

“Well, I—urk!” His sentence was cut off by Rat’s dagger pressing on his throat.

“I…” Rat fumed, shaking with anger, “am… not… a… whore.”

“Ok,” rasped Glawyn. “Not a whore. Got it. My mistake. Sorry. Nice knife.”

“Let me go,” Rat demanded, this time her lethal threat truly genuine. Glawyn sensed the danger of the situation and released her wrist. She kept her knife against his throat, using her newly freed hand to hold the back of his neck.

“So,” said Glawyn conversationally, his head tilted up away from the dagger. “What brings you here?”

Rat looked left and right. “I’m robbing you.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” said Glawyn. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell or eat.”

“You know, you’re really quite attractive. Would you like to have a date some time?”

Rat stammered for a moment. “Shut up!”

“Perhaps dinner? A walk?”

Downstairs, the front door slammed open. Rat shuddered with surprise.

“Um… could you maybe keep still while you’re holding that knife against me. That kind of hurt.”

“Shh!” She hissed.

She heard stomping footfalls coming up the stairs. Before she could formulate a plan, Corporal Cyfraith loomed in the doorway. “The jig is up, Rat. Let’s go.”

Rat looked around wildly. She would not be able to get to the window without Cyfraith catching her. She took the knife away from Glawyn’s throat and held it out, ready for a fight,.

Cyfraith laughed out loud. “If that’s the way you want it, little girl,” he drew his sword.

“What’s the meaning of this!” Demanded Glawyn. “Constable, explain yourself!” He had a firmly disapproving glare in his eyes.

Cyfraith looked shocked. “She’s robbing your house!”