Zatch

777 RC, Dragon moon 2ndTtriface. On a rope above the street of discipline, in the port city of Ashrung, Northern Arundel.

Green eyes squinted in concentration, Zatch clung tightly to the rope that stretched off into the blackness below him. Sweat poured off his thin wiry frame as he struggled to lower the last bundle of habits down off the battlements.

“Only a little further,” he mumbled tiredly. Rain started to hit his back gently. Just perfect, he swore bitterly under his breath. The adult language pouring out steadily under his breath in a child’s voice was shocking. It was a torrent that would have made the nuns of his orphanage blush in shame, he cursed the skies. The rain quickly soaked the rope making it slip through his hands. With a gasp of pain he let the heavy bundle of now wet clothes tumble free. It landed with a thud on the already heavily laden cart below. He winced at the noise and glanced around as he began to follow the bundle down into the cart, but no lights flared to life in the still sleeping orphanage; as much as he hated the place, it was his only home.

The nuns were still sound asleep, the noise he had made was muffled by the rain that pounded down around him. But after tonight he doubted he would be welcome back with open arms.

Zatch wiped sweat and water from his face, and slid down the rope with the ease of long practice. He landed on top of the bundles of clothes, robes and under robes, all of the habits from every nun in the entire city, three orphanages worth of clothes padded his quick descent. Zatch chuckled to himself, weak red light filtered down through the clouds from the full Dragon moon that hung over them. Of the four moons that shared the sky, the blood red Dragon moon was most revered by thieves, it’s red light didn’t ruin human’s night vision like other colours of light. He climbed over the clothes and patted his friend Slug on the shoulder silently signaling him to start driving towards the Thief Lords manor. Slug grunted and whipped the old mule they had borrowed for their task into a slow trot.

Zatch pulled a tarp over himself and the clothes so they wouldn’t be too wet when they dropped them off to their new owners. The streets where completely empty of the city watch, no one without a nefarious purpose moved in the night. The night of the Thief Lords contest was the one night of the year that a shaky truce stood. No one was allowed to harm anyone, no robberies, no murders, and no assaults for one night. Every thief in the city was busy instead trying to pull off the best prank they could think of. As they passed the Market square, Zatch looked out to see their competition at work. Older members of the thieves guild, rushed about tying awnings together, drawing vulgar messages and pictures on the sides of the buildings around the square in chalk. A loud clang made him look up at the city’s largest bell tower. A couple of boys were trying, unsuccessfully, to move the monstrous bell from the tower. Zatch shook his head at their antics, every year someone tried to move that bell. The closest anyone had come was to take the clapper and hang it off the tower doors like an oversized door knocker. Nothing so completely unoriginal was going to win the Thief Lord’s prize. Zatch lurched forward smacking his head off the side of the cart.

“OW, Slug! Why’d ya stop s’ fast?” Zatch demanded. Slug chuckled as Zatch climbed up onto the driver’s seat next to him. An expression of joy on his simple face, Zatch was his only friend. A job he took very seriously, the other thieves in the guild enjoyed tormenting the large simple man. Zatch couldn’t stand it when someone stole Slug’s few possessions or his meager portions of food. Slug had been trampled by a noble’s horse when he was 13. Half his face was paralyzed, a large dent just above his right eyebrow made the eye protrude slightly. Drool seeped constantly out of the corner of his mouth. He had never recovered from the incident mentally, but could follow simple instructions, and Zatch knew he could feel when people pitied him.

“He’re.” Slug said lisping heavily. Zatch glanced around, they had made it to the thieves playground, the street of the “Ladies of the night” as they were called in polite company. An unnecessary practice Zatch thought, even at 12 he knew a whore when he saw one, call a rose a rose. He thought, no sense in prettying up something to save yourself embarrassment. A delusion only the rich could afford. A women dressed in little more than a heavy cloak emerged from the shadows a wicked glint in her eyes as bright as the stiletto she held in her hand casually tapping it against one shapely thigh.

“Zatch?” she asked.

“We made it wit out a hitch Mattie,” Zatch said grinning. Mattie had agreed to distribute the second half of Zatch’s plan for his prank. Quickly he and Slug unloaded all of the nun’s robes. Mattie and her friends whisked them away with remarkable speed. After the last bundle was in good hands Zatch went back to see how Mattie’s alterations where going. She was busily sewing and snipping the bulky black robes and brown under robes into a form fitting sheath of fabric. After a few more minutes she held up her finished product, now a sleek black dress it bore little resemblance to its humble beginnings.

“Very nice, at’ll make the Thief Lord sit up ‘n take notice,” Zatch said approvingly.

“Lemme get my face on ‘n we can go present our trick to his Lordship.” Mattie said sweeping away behind a curtain to get dressed and put on her makeup. Zatch looked around the room while Mattie chattered excitedly about what she would pick for her prize.

The Thief Lord’s contest had a prize, any single item picked from his manor, including anything from his vault. Zatch was hesitant about this honor, last year’s winner had made the mistake of choosing the Thief Lord’s most prized possession and he had simply vanished by the next morning long before he could enjoy his prize. A few years before that the winner had chosen some little knick knack and insulted their Lord, he also had disappeared from the city without a word to anyone in his gang or his family.

Zatch had to keep cautioning Mattie to stick to their plan. She was going to ask to be appointed head of the Sisterhood of Scarlet Petticoats, the name of the lady’s guild that ran her corner of the city. Slug was going to let Zatch do the talking for him, and ask for a position running one of the businesses that the Thief Lord used as a front to sell his illegal goods. Zatch thought the bakery on Drury Lane would probably be best. He hadn’t decided what he was going to ask for himself yet.

“Guess I’ll just wing it.” He thought, that usually works out alright. Zatch yawned again sunrise was only a few hours away. He thought about the looks that would be on the Nun’s faces and hoped he made it back in time to enjoy it. Thinking of the other children blissfully sleeping through the night comfortable in their plain, ruthlessly clean beds, made Zatch wish he was a child as well. But he hadn’t been a child since he woke up half drowned on the beach ten miles south of the harbor, with no memories of where he had come from or who his family was, just his own name echoing on the wind.

They rolled to a stop on the now crowded street bordering the waterfront. Huge warehouses lined the street like hulking, silent, sentinels, they loomed out of the shadows over the gathered thieves that busily chatted about their pranks. Zatch climbed down and grinned impishly up at Mattie as she gave him a pointed look and he held out a hand to help her down from the wagon seat. She wore a traveling cloak that concealed her outfit until they unveiled it. Just as Slug recovered from his graceless fall out of the wagon, the doors to the manor house opened, spilling golden light out into the darkness. The Thief Lord himself stood before them, a giant man he towered over nearly everyone. He was at least seven feet tall. His all black clothes where nearly a uniform of sorts, he never wore any other colour. Tonight his black pants billowed out around him, cut in a fashion that resembled a fairy tale pirate. He even had a black handled cutlass stuffed rakishly through a wide leather belt. The loose fitting clothes hid his whipcord lean form. Zatch had spied on him during one of his rare fencing classes he taught to upper level thieves. Not an ounce of fat on the man, he was all wiry muscle and lightning quick reflexes, with his incredible reach Zatch doubted anyone could defeat him in a challenge for leadership of the guild. Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, one of the burlier breakers, as they called the strong arm robbers, stepped forward and tossed a metal studded gauntlet into the face of their Lord.

“Challenge.” The hulking breaker ground out, drawing a heavy metal sheathed cudgel from the recess of his stained cloak.

“Accepted.” The Thief lord said wiping a smudge of grease left by gauntlet off his cheek with a black handkerchief. As he stuffed the soiled black square into a pocket his other hand rose smoothly from behind his back holding small hand crossbow. Before the crowd could even clear a space for the duel, the string twanged, burying a small black bolt in the chest of the breaker just shy of his heart. Now everyone scrambled out of the way, but it was over before even really beginning.

“You…cheated.” The breaker gasped out as his lung filled with blood. The Thief Lord tsked dismissively calmly reloading the crossbow he pointed it at his now prone opponent.

“If you truly believe that, then you are too stupid to live.” He said calmly and put a second bolt into the breakers’ knee. The breaker screamed weakly and went silent as he blacked out from the pain. “You’re lucky I can’t kill you tonight.” The Thief Lord said nodding to the man’s terrified companions to take him away.

“If he’s still in the city at dawn his life is forfeit. Now! On with the contest!” He said waving everyone else inside, Zatch was watching for it and still missed it when he put his crossbow away. Nervously Zatch and his small gang followed the crowd inside, he didn’t like at all how the doors boomed closed with deathly finality behind the last straggler.