Florette XII: The Thief

For all the terrified condemnations that the Avaline elite had issued about that devastatingly devious dastard, the Blue Bandit, and her wicked ice magics, they really hadn’t done much to secure their property against it.

Christophe had used the same icicle climbing spike trick to scale the wall of the Tancredi Museum that he’d used in the fire, hidden in the shadow of the anemic moonlight from even a careful examination, and precious few were giving the outer walls even a cursory one.

Getting him inside without making a sound hadn’t been quite so trivial, but the difference was pretty minimal. Most of the museum was closed off with velvet rope, penning the Sauin gala-goers into the designated areas with almost no effort spared for enforcement. All Florette had to do was open the window and watch him climb in, his cool blue crystalline hands softening as the magic faded.

Florette was irritated to see that he was dressed better than her, with a shockingly unsullied white jacket after the climb up and a pale blue bowtie that brought out the color in his eyes. If his neighbors could lend him that, why was I stuck with the plump short girl’s dress?

Maybe something to mention to Rebecca, if Florette ever got invited to one of these things after tonight. After what’s already happened tonight, even. The smart thing to do would be letting the friendship wither, withdrawing from the risk of drawing the attention of Baron Williams and his apparently close compatriot, the fucking Crown Prince of Avalon.

Florette liked to think she’d gotten better about doing the smart thing, of late, but returning to that isolation for years on end was a far-from-enticing prospect, and frankly she needed the help when it came to a lot of her classwork. Passing Thermodynamics alone without her help seemed basically impossible, and without that, there went any chance of mastering Avalon’s technology enough to steal the most useful stuff, let alone achieving a position of influence to sabotage them from within.

When you think about it, staying close to her is really the pragmatic choice. She’d have to study long and hard with her, paying close attention to everything her eyes could take in, but was achievable. If I can learn Avaline in less than a year, I can pull this off too.

I just need a way to do that doesn’t involve kissing the girl whose friend I ran through with a sword. That much, Florette thought with no small amount of regret, would definitely be taking it too far.

“What are you waiting for?” Christophe tapped his fingers together, letting out a quiet chime. “Come on.”

“Right.” Florette nodded, pulling herself to the task at hand, far more pleasant than any feelings of guilt could ever possibly aspire to be. “You remember the plan?”

“Obviously.” Christophe scoffed in indignation. “You only made me run it through about ten thousand times.”

Because you’re the one at the most risk here. Florette was an invited guest; even if she were caught right here and now, it’d be trivial to spin a tale about getting lost looking for the appropriate facilities. Christophe, by contrast, was an uninvited guest with no official existence in Cambria, without any powers at his disposal that wouldn’t immediately reveal his status as a descendant of Glaciel.

Reason enough to take extra care, but his inexperience provided far more. Even counting the fire as his first job, this would only be the second. And Florette well remembered her second job, stealing Celice Thorley’s books and schematics from right under his nose and nearly getting away clean.

But Claude didn’t make it out, and eventually they killed him for it. Reading his name in a journal about Leclaire’s Blue Revolution in Malin, overthrowing Prince Luce, had been shock enough, but seeing the callous way the journal had errantly mentioned his death in a footnote about Perimont’s wife staging an execution had been like a knife to the heart.

Florette had no doubt at all that, had he made it away from the railyard heist, he wouldn’t have been in Perimont’s way, and he’d probably still be alive.

Christophe had better means of defending himself, but he was by no means infallible, and this was a high-stakes time to test him, right in the center of enemy territory. If it came down to force, they’d have already lost, and while Christophe had amply proven his abilities fighting the fire, he’d yet to demonstrate much mastery of subtlety.

Florette had made it clear in no uncertain terms that, if things went wrong, he was to run, across water if necessary, until he reached shores free of Avalon’s influence, but she suspected that it would take more than the first sign of trouble to truly move him to it.

Hopefully her precautions would be enough. Far from Lord Monfroy’s initial proposal of a brutish smash-and-grab, tonight would be tightly planned to minimize risk.

“Count to one hundred, then start,” Florette said as she slipped away, headed back towards the permitted areas.

She found Professor Alcock entertaining a half circle of perhaps a dozen of Cambria’s well-to-do near the curtained display case for the sword, enrapturing them with a tale of braving the dead woods of Refuge to rescue its most precious lost artifacts. Florette tried to pay close attention, in case any of them had living owners who might want them back, but everything he mentioned was the rightful property of the long-annihilated, unable to make any kind of claim of their own.

Probably for the best. After tonight, security’s bound to be tighter, and making any alterations to tonight’s plan would be incredibly ill-advised.

Though it wasn’t as if Nuage Sombre belonged to Monfroy any more than it did to Alcock or this museum. And unlike Cya’s domain, it might still have a living rightful owner. A chance of one, at least, since the Avaline soldiers still hadn’t managed to find Princess Mars of Micheltaigne.

Though, like as not, she died in the firebombing anyway. It certainly wasn’t hard to believe after seeing sketches of the devastation in The Cambrian, especially since whatever they published was surely more sanitized than the reality. Even then, the scorched mountainous wasteland looked so thoroughly scoured it was hard to believe they’d managed to print it. Maybe all their talk about freedom of words is actually backed up by something, at least in the capital.

More likely, Avalon just thought it useful to strike fear into hearts with the implicit threats those images posed, and Avaline readers seeing depictions of the aftermath was simply a consequence of the larger strategy.

Either way, it was time to move.

“Professor Alcock?” Florette glided through the onlookers without missing a step, drawing Alcock’s attention back away from the cloth-covered display case. “I’m sure this isn’t the best time, but I was wondering if I could have a word in private?”

Alcock smiled wide, holding up his glass of fizzing wine with evident cheer. “The entire purpose of this exhibit is preservation and education, and I always make time for the latter. Especially with one of my best students.” He looked over her head towards his listeners. “If you’d all excuse us, I’ll be making my speech once Sabine and I are finished, so it’s best I continue the story afterwards. Feel free to come remind me.”

Finally, the work I put into a subject I’m actually good at is paying off. “Thank you, Professor.”

“It’s no trouble.” He waved his head back towards the display case, positioned behind him and out of his sight. “What do you think? I noticed you didn’t say anything about it in class.”

“Of the sword? There’s nothing to see yet; the display case is still covered up.” Don’t turn around to check. “I’m pleased it wasn’t destroyed in the assault, if that’s what you mean.”

“I should hope so.” Alcock frowned. “That’s all you have to say? It’s over eight-hundred years old, of massive cultural importance to the Micheltine, and I managed to rescue it from an inferno the size of the sun.”

And I managed to kill the sun, but I know better than to brag about it. Still, Florette considered a more honest response. Kelsey Thorley and Toby Folsom had surprised her, a reminder that even in the heart of Avalon, thinking was not monolithic. Professor Alcock clearly cherished the artifacts he took, perhaps he might surprise her too? “It’s all of those things and more, but it wasn’t ours to take.”

“Correct.” Surprisingly, his frown disappeared. “Nor was Salhaute, but Avalon took that from Micheltaigne too. Perhaps the moral course would have been to step back, rather than serve my knightly duties as an advisor. It would have done nothing for the Micheltine, but Nuage Sombre and every other precious relic we rescued would have been dashed to pieces. Would that have been any better?”

Those weren’t your only two options. “No.”

“I’m sorry, what is it you wanted to ask me about?”

Behind him, Florette saw the curtain ruffle as Christophe breached the display, careful not to make a sound.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you that I’m going to need to miss the next few classes. My father’s time is near, and I wish to see him one last time before it’s too late.” Though, of course, I’ll be tragically too late to see him again. Someone on Robin’s crew would ensure that a body was buried on a slab in his place, following the Avaline custom, closing the book on the story of the debt-ridden Srin Savian. “If you’re willing to give me the assignments for the next couple weeks early, I can work on them while I’m gone, but even—”

“No need.” Alcock waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be gone for the wedding around the same time, and those humdrum student assignments are a waste of your talents anyhow. If you feel so moved, look into the history of your homeland. I understand it’s new to you, but the western isles have a rich tradition that is far too often left out of any analysis of Avaline culture. The Isle of Shadows, especially, contains multitudes that Cambrian history instruction has been woefully inadequate at including. But, if you cannot find the time, do not worry either. I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

“Thank you.” Almost nice enough to make me forget how you ‘find’ your relics.

Alcock put a hand on her shoulder, no doubt intended to be comforting. “I’m afraid I have to give my speech now, but please come find me afterwards if you’d like to talk more. Best of luck with your trip.”

“Thank you.” Florette lingered a moment longer, making sure that Christophe had time to slip away, then headed back towards the entrance to put some distance between herself and the exhibit. Once she was sure she was clear, she ducked out into the roped-off hallway where Christophe was waiting.

Monfroy’s initial ‘just run in and grab it’ proposal might even have worked, if at an unacceptable cost.

“Success?”

Christophe grinned from ear to ear, his face mask stretched just enough to look slightly unnatural, which was still a good deal less unnatural than Lamante’s gift actually was. “The back panel had hinges mounted to it to open it up, so our initial plan to replace the glass there with a panel of ice wouldn’t have worked.” He pulled the sword from behind his back, wrapped in the Cloak of Nocturne that Florette had provided him for the occasion. “But it wasn’t even locked.”

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“Alcock’s speech,” Florette realized. “They didn’t want him fumbling with a key when he shows it off. Tonight was definitely the right time to do this, everything’s all done up for the gala.” Guards were crawling over every inch of the exterior, protecting the notable Cambrian figures within, but such security was apparently deemed sufficient. To protect their persons, it probably was, but not their stolen property, not even the most valuable addition to the museum.

Honestly, it’s like they were asking me to rob them.

Florette heard a faint whistle of wind as she unwrapped the sword, feeling a jolt of energy as she gripped its handle. The blade’s color had faded, unpolished but not rusted, extending longer than most swords Florette had seen, but it felt easy to lift as a pen, and far smoother to move. But we didn’t take this so I could swing it around.

She slipped it into the leather scabbard she’d had wrapped around her belly under the dress, which now probably looked even more unflattering, then attached the sword to her belt, just another Avaline noble wearing a ceremonial piece. Five or six inches of the blade stuck out of the top, so Florette pulled the hem of her dress over the whole thing to hide it. Just have to step carefully to avoid cutting myself on an eight-hundred year old sword. That would probably be bad.

For now, that would be enough. She needed to give Christophe time to get far away from the building before anyone noticed anything amiss. “Give me two minutes to get back to my group, then climb back down the way you came. Go straight to your building and don’t say a word to anyone.”

Florette waited just long enough to see him nod, then slipped back into the room just as the lights were beginning to dim for Alcock’s speech, no doubt running some poor lamplighters ragged draining the oil.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Baron Williams’ towering figure blocked her way back in, glaring down at her across the velvet rope. “Surely even in the western isles they understand the concept of ‘off-limits’. There’s nothing to see anyway.”

“I needed to be alone for a bit, then I got lost on the way back.” Florette subtly tried to angle herself away to hide the sword at her hip and the incriminating bulge it formed under her clothes, let alone the tip hanging down below. “I hope I didn’t miss the speech.”

The Baron’s eyes narrowed, his hand drifting closer to the handle of his own sword. “I hope you didn’t do anything you’ll regret, for your own sake.”

“What?” Please don’t notice it.

“I know my daughter, Miss Sabine, and when the two of you sneak off alone somewhere and she comes back alone, tight-lipped and wide-eyed, it’s not hard for me to draw conclusions.” He drew his blade an inch, glinting in the lamplight. “When I say ‘something you’ll regret,’ I mean that I’ll make you regret it, if there’s cause. Are we clear?”

Florette gulped, trying to hide her relief by conjuring up the nervousness she’d just been actually feeling. “Y-yes, my lord Baron.” Just an innocent schoolgirl, life filled with naught but quotidien affairs and romantic misadventures. “You have no cause to worry.”

His gaze shifted down, lingering on her legs for an extremely inappropriate amount of time.

“Well, I should be getting back to—”

“What’s the rush? If you want to hear the speech, this is the best place to do it. Strange acoustics, but you can hear perfectly over there.” He jerked his head back towards the display, where Florette had been talking to Alcock minutes earlier. Hopefully early enough that Williams hadn’t been standing here. “Stay.”

Well, at least it’ll be easier to act nervous now. Florette grit her teeth, ears starting to ring, as she looked past the baron to Sir Thomas Alcock, Professor and Plunderer. “Esteemed Ladies and Gentlemen of the Tancredi Board, friends and family, and honored guests, it is my pleasure and privilege to reveal the newest feature of the Ancient Weaponry exhibit, a piece whose collection I oversaw personally.”

“Picked it off the ground after soldiers did all the work,” Williams muttered, standing at an angle so Alcock and Florette were both in sight.

“Tonight we celebrate Sauin, a night of tears and contrasts, where dark forces are said to be at their strongest. The earliest records we have of the tradition go back deep into the Age of Darkness, before Cambria’s founding. In Oxton and Vellum, based on the historical record, we can see—”

“Are you actually enjoying his blathering?” Williams asked quietly, drawing Florette’s attention away from the speech. “Pageantry like this is poison, sweet and enticing, but it will get you killed all the same.” He pulled out his sword all the way, drawing glares from the few people not closely watching Alcock. “Pendragon here is older than the Micheltine showpiece he’s so puffed up about, and more powerful too. Nuage Sombre is a symbol, but Pendragon is a weapon. My forefathers forgot that, to their great shame, but I have not. Neither should you.”

“What?” Florette squeaked.

“If you’re going to carry a sword, carry a sword. Don’t hide it under your dress like some seamstress’s knife. As things stand now, when the time comes to draw it, you won’t be fast enough.” He swung his sword towards her, stopping just short of your neck. “Real threats will not be so sporting as to wait.”

Is this still about Rebecca, or did he figure it out? “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should. And see that you learn how to use that thing if you’re going to carry it. I won’t have you swinging it around in my daughter’s presence like some witless amateur.” He pushed the sword closer, to the point that Florette could feel the steel against her neck. “Do not think yourself too skilled or too important to be brought low. Toy with Rebecca, and that blade of yours will be naught but a stick against my wrath, and your precious professor can make an exhibition of your bones. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes sir, my lord Baron.”

He snorted, shaking his head as Alcock continued his speech.

“...And so, at last, it is my pleasure to present Nuage Sombre, the royal sword of the High Kingdom of Micheltaigne, treasured symbol for generations of High Kings and Queens.” Alcock pulled the cloth back with a flourish, revealing the glass display case beneath it.

It was hard to tell from across the room, but he looked slightly taken aback.

Williams seemed to notice too, his eyes narrowing. “It’s too thin,” he muttered.

“How could you possibly tell?” Christophe had been looking directly at the original when he made his ice replica; he couldn’t have possibly failed to duplicate it so spectacularly that it was visible all the way back here.

Unless it melts, Florette realized with a start. I should have had him make a bigger one, and moved sooner. No doubt Alcock was able to tell the difference too, especially feeling the ice in his hand, but for a moment he didn’t say anything.

“The blade doesn’t look sharp either… It seems the vaunted professor was taken in by a fake.” Williams smiled. “That’s what happens when you send an academic to do a binder’s job. The power of the spirits is a prize to be earned, each artifact a mark of surviving against the most dangerous of opponents and binding their power to your cause.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Florette again, eyes drawn once again to the sword-shaped lump in her dress. “It seems Alcock wasn’t the only one. Whoever sold you that ought to have told you it’s too big for you, even tall as you are. The balance will be all wrong if you try to use it.”

“My father got it for me,” Florette said, thinking fast. “He’s not much of a swordsman either, but after Robin Verrou’s attack, he wanted me to be safe.”

“Then why weren’t you wearing that when you first walked in here? Did you stash it here to pick up later? Or…?” He scratched his chin. “Did you swipe it from one of the exhibits? Is that why you were in the restricted area?”

“Yes!” Florette said, perhaps a touch too fast, but she was out of plausible alternatives. “All that talk of the Blue Bandit, I just didn’t feel safe. I know it’s stupid, but—”

“Rebecca has a habit of picking up stupid girls. She’s smart enough that her lessers blend together, even if there is ample room for discernment. It’s caused her and myself no end of grief. It could cause you the same, if I thought fit to speak of this.”

“Please don’t. I’ll put it right back.”

Williams pulled back his sword, apparently willing to strike her in front of all these people, but the blow never came. He sheathed the blade and jerked his head back across the velvet rope. “Well? Get to it.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Florette walked as fast as she dared into the gloom of the empty museum, looking back over her shoulder every few seconds to be sure she wasn’t being followed.

Should have just sent the damned thing with Christophe. He could have probably managed the climb even while holding it, but Florette hadn’t wanted to risk him being spotted with it. Alone, he could run or talk his way out, but with the blade, the guards wouldn’t stop following him until they recovered it.

Whereas I have a Cloak of Nocturne and I know how to use it. Florette slipped into Nocturne, watching the world dim as she and her stolen artifact faded from view.

She returned to a room in pandemonium, Alcock brandishing what looked like half of Christophe’s replica, the top broken or melted off. The guards from outside were pouring in, demanding every guest stay inside, but the other guests hadn’t slipped beyond the veil into a realm of darkness, so they couldn’t walk right past them out the door as Florette could.

Others were outside, closely watching the street, but Monfroy’s carriage was still parked there, so Florette simply slipped inside, phasing through the door, and removed the cloak while sitting inside, crossing the final path of danger totally unseen. She pulled the sword from its case and laid the flat of it on her lap.

“Ah, Miss Sabine.” Lord Monfroy laced his fingers together, not looking the least bit surprised to see Florette pop into existence right in front of him. “I see that you too have felt the touch of Khali’s realm. No doubt that accounts for your success tonight, beyond my wildest expectations.” He tapped the roof. “Richard! It’s time to depart.”

The carriage began to move as Monfroy took the sword from her. “For all his faults, it seems Srin Savian was not as derelict in your education as I once feared. You’re read The End of Time, felt the call of darkness in your soul, and can even wield spiritual power more adeptly than I’d expect from anyone so young. Before we proceed, I would like to… congratulate you on tonight’s rousing success. I take it you weren’t seen?”

I’ll need to explain how I left, but I can figure something out. Rebecca and Alcock will both probably back me up as long as I don’t trigger their suspicions. “Not by a soul.”

“Excellent!” He pulled his hands apart, reaching for the sword. “This will make an excellent decoration for my new abode.”

“Decoration? You had me do all of that just for—”

“I was not finished.” Monfroy’s voice was cold. “Your father is dead. I’m traveling tomorrow to settle things at Mahabali Hall and ready it for the next convocation of the Twilight Society, the professional organization through which I met your father. You are, as I promised earlier, invited. You’ll accompany me on my ship.”

Wow, no thanks. “I’ll make my own arrangements.”

“No,” Monfroy said softly. “You’ll do as I say, from now until the end of your pitiful life. I own you.”

“You said this would pay off eighty thousand mandala of my debt!”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It could pay off all of it. That’s no longer of any concern.” He chuckled. “I just witnessed you steal a priceless artifact from right under the Prince Regent’s nose. I’d thought to throw you at their security, see what protections you triggered when inevitably you were caught, but instead you’ve proven yourself an invaluable asset, and one that I intend to make rigorous use of.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” Florette reached for the handle of the sword, but Monfroy snatched it away with shocking speed.

“The deal stands, and your debt is that much lesser for it. Now we’re establishing a new deal, where I kindly refrain from informing my good friends in the Great Council about your flagrant and heinous thievery, the indisputable evidence for which I hold in my very hands.” He let out another laugh. “This was never about money, child. I’m a collector of people, and you’ve just proven yourself a worthy addition.”

“You fucker!” Florette snarled, lunging for the sword, but she had to pull back at the sound of a whip cracking, striking back into the cabin from the front.

“Get some rest. We’ll be leaving bright and early tomorrow. And do try to be less dour about this. It is your life now, after all. No use crying about it.” Monfroy leaned over and opened the door, waving her out. “Goodnight, Miss Sabine.”

Florette felt her fists burning red with rage, unable to think of a single reason not to retrieve her florete and run the double-dealing bastard through before he had a chance to say anything.

I should have just said no, asked another favor, found another way to get the money… She had no way to find him except on his ship in the morning, surrounded by trusted guards and miles of open water. Even if she could pull it off alive, her cover would be just as ruined as if he informed on her for the theft.

I put in all this work to blend in, even helping people, to get away clean, to hold it together to complete the mission, and it was all for nothing. All that self control gone to waste.

Florette still felt that fire in her as she approached the doorway of the apartment. You do everything right, help get the reckless Hiverrien under control, spend hours a day poring over their textbooks and assignments, living a lie for every second of my existence, all for nothing.

The door opened, Rebecca’s surprised face lurking behind it. “Sabine? We were looking for you at the museum. The Blue Bandit struck again, but it doesn’t seem like anyone was hurt, so—”

“I’m done dancing around. No point in it anyway.” Everything’s coming apart anyway. Why hold back?

“Oh! Ok. Well—”

Florette kissed her, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.