39

Suspicious Treasures

Crates lined the cavernous underground of the abandoned factory, each marked with the emblem of shipping companies from all over. There were the faded markings from as near as the Republic to the distant and mysterious lands of Xandala.

Kathiya wondered how well connected Esria was to the pirates that plagued the southern seas. That was the only feasible way they could have claimed a bounty such as this. Even then, getting them into the city was another issue entirely. Then again, bribes were quite common in normal cities. In Savanti, it was almost a given. It’s hard to inspire loyalty in people who only fight for money, and they were probably being paid so little that bribes were there just to make ends meet.

Some of the revolutionaries pulled one such crate open, tearing nail from old, weathered wood, and the contents spilled onto the warehouse floor.

Weapons. A lot of them. Blades, daggers, bows, spears, halberds. There was enough here to arm an actual army.

The revolutionaries wielded them with varying degrees of skill, some holding them like toys, swinging them at each other, others held them like being in their mere vicinity could kill them. A smart decision, given the way some were currently using them.

She wandered, passing the groups of chattering people, all still dressed the same as the people in the streets above them.

Where had Caspar gotten to, anyway? At some point, he began talking with some people and just wandered off with them.

Kathiya walked along each of the gatherings of people, all with different ideas of where society should go once they’ve toppled the current regime. She listened in to one such rally, where a stork in a cape gave his vision of utopia.

‘For we should create a committee to oversee the deployment of city guards, to keep them accountable and prevent corruption.’

‘And who’ll oversee this committee?’ Kathiya yelled out from somewhere in the crowd.

‘What?’ he yelled back, confused by the sudden confusing barrage of a single simple question.

‘The committee? Who’ll oversee it? Who’s to say the committee won’t get corrupted?’

‘Uhh…’ The stork struggled, uneasily rubbing his hands together. ‘We’ll have a committee to oversee it.’

‘And that one?’

‘Another committee, of course.’

‘And that one?’

‘Shut up! The system will work, I’m sure of it. You’re just some establishment bootlicker. Where are you!’ He looked into the crowd, as did the others, but Kathiya’s a sneaky thief who weaved through the people with each outburst. The crowd searched for the dissident, pointing out several incorrect members. She left as the shouting began, looking back at some of the chaos she caused. Was she happy she caused this? A little. Maybe she had been hanging around Ludgar too long. Then again, questions like that are important. Ideology is a lot like a muscle: if it isn’t worked, it atrophies, and then it can’t stand up to even a little resistance.

She walked into something tall and mostly comprised of cloth. For a moment, she thought it was Sethel.

‘Hey! Watch where you’re-’ she said on instinct, catching herself when she saw who it actually was. They were robes in shades of deep purple of a design somewhat familiar to Kathiya, but she couldn’t quite place where.

‘Hmm…’ It growled at her. She couldn’t make out what it was from beneath the thick hood.

‘Oh… Sorry.’

In stern, cutting silence, it moved away, lifting the mood of the immediate area the same way lifting a curse would.

Kathiya was left alone feeling a little confused, and just a touch shaken, unable to rid herself of the feeling that she was missing something.

‘Bring it in!’ A cry came out to the end of the warehouse, acting as a welcome distraction, and two great doors were pulled open. Natural light spilled in, and a trader’s wagon, pulled by a traull, rolled in.

The trader stepped off as revolutionaries stepped on, pulling off large, locked chests of various makes and sizes. He took up a spot leaning against the wagon, pulled out a small pipe and began inhaling the sweet smoke of burning sweetroot.

‘Long journey?’ Kathiya asked, casually standing by his side.

‘Nah. Not too long. Just from Asterport,’ he answered, clouds of sweet smoke falling out with each word.

‘So, I assume it got here by boat then. From where?’

‘I don’t know. I just make the deliveries.’

One chest fell to the ground next to her with a startling thud. A fat, heavy, well protected looking thing, with a nice sturdy lock sitting on the front; the type which can withstand collision with a war hammer. Looked official, and out of place on the simple wagon.

It just sat there for a moment, begging her to open it. Her fingers caressed the thin point of a lock pick hidden within the sleeve of her coat.

‘Well,’ one mover said, pulling out a key and kneeling, ‘let’s see what they brought us.’

‘No.’ Another’s hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him dead. ‘These are to be moved to storage. Higher ups have got some big plans for ‘em.’

And so the chests were carried off to parts unknown, leaving Kathiya with the unfulfilled feeling of an uncompleted task. Though it did give her quite an idea.

‘So, what of you, girl?’ the trader asked, eyes on his pipe as he took a match and lit more sweetroot. ‘What’re you do-’ he turned to find the occupied space now empty. With a tut, he returned to his pipe, and grumbled about the rudeness of the people around him.

She had to admit, these guys made for some really shitty guards. They didn’t patrol, they had no weapons, and they barely even guarded the things they were actually guarding. They just stood around and chatted with each other. Was it laziness? Arrogance? Both, most likely. These guys probably have never seen any actual combat. To them, the prospect of guarding something must feel like a chore that only people beneath them did. Were they even paid for this? If not, she could completely understand their reasoning for half-arseing it.

It took quite a lot of the fun out of being a thief.

They sat around the door to a secured area. By the look of things, it must have once been where this factory kept their finished glass sculptures. The movers brought the chests past the guards, who only gave the most cursory glance at them, and then continued with their card game, illuminated only by the light of a single oil lamp in the dark, underground hallway.

Empty and abandoned crates, too heavy and cumbersome to be moved by people who’d rather not work, made for good cover, as she slipped between each, making her way closer to where her prize had been taken. There, she waited for a while, as the movers returned and walked past.

The people she hesitated to call “guards” now sat in her way, with no abandoned crates for her to take cover in. Even as inattentive as they were, this was a tricky situation.

The little flame of the oil lamp danced in the glass dome, granting this small piece of hallway a sliver of dim light and harsh shadows.

Her hand moved in its direction, and it quivered at the movement of her fingers.

Shadow Weaver. The name the Serpents had given for those who hold sway over the darkness. Back in Mysmier, that strange man in the mask knew, and he was no Moonlight Serpent she had ever seen.

Who was he? What did he know?

Questions for later. Right now, she was hunting.

Her hand became a fist, and she crushed the distant flame. The room fell into sudden darkness, and she slipped through with the ease of a stiff chill through a graveyard.

Around the corner, she could hear them fumble with the lamp, swearing while trying to light it again.

Before her stood a set of great double doors, built from dark, heavy steel. They looked as though they survived better than the rest of the building. Imposing to the average thief, but Kathiya knew that it wasn’t the door that was important, it was the lock. And she knew locks. It was like she could speak to them; whisper in their ear and convince them to open.

She pulled free a lock pick hidden in the stitching of her coat, and set down to work.

Heavier than usual. It took some effort to lift one pin. She could feel the pick bend against it. Then she lifted it too hard, and the pick decided to leave in two different directions.

‘Damn it,’ she whispered, freeing another pick from the fabric. Tougher than she expected. That’s fine, the challenge is half the fun, after all.

It took some effort, and more time than she wanted, but soon, the pins fell into place, and the tumbler gave way to her.

She let out a sigh of relief. If the first pick had been just a hair’s breadth further in, it would have been stuck in there, and she’d be locked out.

She pulled the great door to, easing it only slightly in case of excessive creaking, and she was in.

Not much light. Just what she was used to. It made no difference.

There it sat, between the select choice of valuable weapons, crates, and other assortments they acquired somehow.

Her careful feet crossed the room, avoiding all the items littering the floor, and she ran her hand over the chest.

Such a strange thing. Just a simple, wooden box with a lid on a hinge, yet it held such exciting things. You could find so much beauty and so much value in such a simple thing. It could be jewels, or it could be papers. That was the gamble, and it made it all the more exciting.

She worked at the lock; a type she was far more familiar with, and it opened for her.

Even in the dark that bordered on absolute, she knew the contents.

Gold. More gold than she had ever seen in her life.

Coins of Evandian make, all lined up neatly in columns in a perfect, satisfying, categorized order. Usually, chests like these would have them just haphazardly thrown in like this. Not now, though.

Crowns and sovereigns. She had seen crowns a few times before. Sovereigns, however, she had only ever seen one. A team of them tried to steal from a noble. When they found the sovereign, three thieves tried killing each other over it. The guards found out soon, and none of them ended up getting it.

So how did some silly revolution in Savanti end up getting their hands on so many, and in such a neat order?

Either they stole it directly from a bank, which was unlikely given what she had seen from these revolutionaries, or they obtained it through other means, the implications of which she wasn’t fully sure of.

They were stacked too neatly, with sovereigns on top and the less valuable underneath. Too many to take, too obvious if she took them. She didn’t know anywhere secure to hide them, and if she did, they would soon know, and start searching. She hated the idea and it pained her greatly, but it was best to leave them for now. Well… maybe a few below were inconspicuous enough to satisfy her.

‘I guess a handful wouldn’t go amiss,’ she whispered to no one in particular. ‘Or maybe two. No one would notice if it took three, then.’

She left with five handfuls of coins all spread around her body, so as not to make any noise.

Now there was just the question of how they managed to get so much. She doubted it was the kindness of rich sympathisers, unless…

Something occurred to her. Something that would require a little more investigation, and a lot more thought.

She eased past the guards, still fumbling with their lamp, and walked with casual, unsuspicious grace back into the main body of the warehouse.

Pieces began falling into place, and things started feeling bigger than she first anticipated.