Patricia Briggs - When Demons Walk

Kerim smiled sweetly with such innocence in his expression she knew immediately that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to propose. “The original idea was that you could become one of my household.”

Sham raised both of her eyebrows in disbelief. “Half the servants know who I am, and the rest of them will know before I leave here this morning. The only reason the thief-takers haven’t hauled me in is because they can’t prove what I do, and you have the reputation of punishing thief-takers who work with more zeal than evidence. A reputation, I might add, that I am extremely grateful you deserve.”

Kerim’s smile widened, and the innocence was replaced with sudden mischief and a certain predatory intentness that made her realize again how well the title of Leopard suited him. “When we found out just who and what you were, lady, Talbot and I came up with a much better solution. They know Sham the Thief—a boy. You are going to be Lady Shamera, my mistress.”

Talbot put his hand to his mouth and coughed when Sham spit out a surprised curse she’d learned from one of the more creative of her father’s men.

“Ye won’t have to go quite that far, lassie,” commented the Reeve blandly, in a fine imitation of Talbot, complete with seaman’s accent. “I don’t demand anything so ... strenuous from my mistresses.”

Sham gave Kerim an evil glare, but she held her tongue. He was almost as good at teasing as she was, and she refused to present him with any more easy targets. She took a deep, even breath, and thought about what he’d proposed, her foot tapping on the floor with irritation.

“I expect—” she said finally, biting off the end of each word as if it hurt her, “—that you mean I am to play the role of mistress, not fulfill it. If that is the case, I am inclined to agree that the role would have its uses.”

A short silence greeted her, as if neither Kerim nor Talbot had expected her to give in so easily. Before either man had a chance to speak, the door opened and Dickon returned from replacing the statuette. Sham shot him a look of dislike which he returned with interest and doubtless more cause.

Clearing his throat, Dickon addressed the Reeve. “When I arrived at the emerald meeting room, Her Ladyship had already been summoned. She questioned my custody of her statuette. I had no choice but to inform her where it came from. She instructed me to tell you that she will be here momentarily.”

“Dickon, wait outside the door to welcome her in,” snapped the Reeve, and the servant responded to his tone and jumped to do his bidding.

“Hellfire,” swore Kerim. “If she sees you, she’ll recognize you when you reappear as a woman. My mother has eyes that would rival a cat’s for sharpness.” He wheeled rapidly to the fireplace that all but spanned one of the inner walls and pressed a carving. A panel of wood on the wall next to the fireplace slid silently inwards and rolled neatly behind the panel next to it, revealing a passageway.

“Ah,” commented Sham, tongue in cheek. “The fireplace secret-passageway; how original.”

“As the passage floor is mopped every other week, I would hardly call it ‘secret,’” replied the Reeve sardonically. “It will, however, allow you to avoid meeting my mother in the halls. Talbot, get her outfitted, cleaned up and back here as soon as you can.”

Sham bowed to the Reeve and then followed Talbot into the passageway, sliding the door in place behind her.

“We need to get ye clothes befitting a mistress of the Reeve,” commented Talbot.

“Of course,” replied Sham in a casual tone without reducing the speed of her walk.

“Lord Kerim told me to take ye t’home. My wife can find something for ye to wear until a seamstress can whip something up.” He cleared his throat. “He also thought we ought to take a week and ah ... work on your court manners.”

“Wouldn’t do to have the Reeve’s mistress tagging valuable statuettes?” ask Sham in court-clear Cybellian as she stopped and looked at Talbot. “I should think not, my good man. Must not tarnish Lord Kerim’s reputation with this little farce.”

“Well now,” he said, rubbing his jaw, “I suspect that clothing might be all we have to worry about.”

She nodded and started off again. After a mile or so Talbot cleared his throat. “Ah, lassie, there is no place in Purgatory that carries the sorts of silks and velvet that ye need.”

She sent him a sly grin. “Don’t bet on it. If there is something that people will buy. Purgatory sells it.”

He laughed and followed her deeper into Purgatory.

“The problem we face—” she explained as she led him through the debris-covered floor of a small, abandoned shop near the waterfront, “—is that a mistress of a high court official must always wear clothes built by a known dressmaker. Most of them wouldn’t let someone dressed like me through the door. If we managed to find one that would, it’d be the talk of the town by morning.”

She stooped and pulled up a section of loose floorboard out of the way, leaving a narrow opening into a crawlspace that the original owner of the building had used for storage. She had several such storage areas here and there around Purgatory and she was careful never to sleep near any of them. She had found she lost less of her belongings if she didn’t keep them with her.

“You’re too big to fit in here, Talbot. Wait just a moment.”

Sham slipped through the crack with the ease of long practice and slithered through the narrow crawlway until she came to the hollow that someone else had widened into a fair-sized space underneath the next building over. No one mopped the floor twice weekly here, and the dust made her eyes water.

She called a magelight and found the large wooden crate that held most of her clothing. Lifting the lid, she sorted through the costumes she had stored there until she came to a bundle carefully wrapped in an old sheet to protect it from the dust. As an afterthought, she also took her second-best thieving clothes and added them to her bundle.

In darkness again she crawled back out the small passage. She put the floorboard back and scuffed around with her feet until the dust by the loose floorboard was no more trampled than it was in the rest of the room.

“If you’ll turn your back for a bit, I’ll change into something that the dressmakers will find acceptable.”

Talbot nodded and walked a few paces away, staring through the dirt-encrusted window at the vague shapes of the people walking on the cobbled street outside, commenting, “For a Purgatory thief, ye know a lot about the court.”

Sham removed her belt and set it aside, after freeing the small bell pouch that carried the few coppers that she traveled the streets with. It gave her time to think about her answer.

“My mother was a lady in the king’s court, my father a minor noble,” implying that her parents were court parasites, poor gentry with aspirations and little else who hung on at court for the free boarding. Not flattering to them, but somehow she didn’t want to tarnish her father’s name by making it common knowledge that his daughter was a thief. Sham set the money aside and pulled out a comb, a few hairpins, and a clean cloth, before stripping out of her clothes.

“Didn’t ye have a place to go? Purgatory is not where I’d like to see a young court miss forced to live.” Like the gentleman he was, Talbot kept his back firmly toward her.

“After the Castle fell? No. My parents died when the gates were opened. They had no relatives who survived the invasion.” There had been no one to turn to, just a blind old man who had been her teacher. He had wanted to die as well, but she wouldn’t let him. Perhaps he would rather have gone then, than survive these last twelve years blind and magicless.