A Thief's Heart - Thief: Deadly Shadows

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Slash (male/male action), mentions of prostitution, mild language

Coren
*****

I was returning to the tavern after a tiring meeting with one of my
noble clients when I was accosted by a familiar watchman, who was
obviously furious. He began to beat me with his sheathed blade. I
struggled, but to no avail.

"You dirty, rotten, lying bastard!" the watchman growled. "You said
you weren't gonna report me! Now what do I get? Hauled up in front of
th' chief, and get punishment duty for weeks!"

I tried to explain that I hadn't reported him at all, when something
made a crackling noise in the street behind us. The guard dropped me
like so much dead meat and ran off to investigate. I was hauled
upright and shoved into an alley before I could react.

The alley had an odd turn near the end, making anyone in it invisible
from the street. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath,
wincing.

"Who are you? Why shouldn't I throw you back on the street as
worthless junk?" demanded a shadow.

I squinted, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the near-total dark.

"M' name's Coren," I answered, dazedly. "Y' shouldn't throw me back
out there because I can pay y' for your trouble."

"What would you have reported that watchman for?" asked the shadow,
which looked more and more like a man with every passing minute, as my
head cleared.

"Heh." I laughed weakly, making my ribs hurt. "He was sleepin' 'round
where he shouldn't have been. He paid me well t' keep my mouth shut,
too. More trouble than he's worth."

The man kept silent for a bit. "So... You're a streetwalker." The man
was sharper than most.

"No. A tavern whore. Bit higher up, though not by much. Sometimes do
house calls on richer clients who want a bit more of a common
experience. Won't tell anybody who, though. Have a reputation for
keepin' my mouth shut, an' don't want to ruin it now. I can pay
anythin' you wish of me if you'd think of sheltering me for a few
nights." I meant it, too.

The man wasn't done asking questions, though.

"I have no reason to trust you. Give me one." The question took me
aback, but I had an answer ready. I pulled a pouch out of one pocket
and emptied it. It was full of gold coins. By now I'd decided the man
was some sort of criminal, from his clothing and his suspicion. If he
was any good, he'd see there was no way I'd be able to steal such
wealth.

He eyed the coins, then picked one out and bit it. "From a noble
client, I suppose? Hmph. We may have a deal. You can stay with me for
one day. You'll have to pay, though."

I sighed with relief. I had no particular desire to sleep at the
tavern; that night especially; the guard would probably come looking
for me. I replaced the coins in the bag.

The man, apparently done with me for the time being, pulled a loose
stone out of the wall. He removed a bag from the hole in the wall and
pulled out a shirt and trousers, which he then changed into, putting
his dark grey outfit into the bag. He also put an eyepatch over his
right eye. Apart from the eyepatch, he looked like a perfectly normal
citizen, albeit more wiry. He slung the bag over one shoulder and
jerked his head toward the entrance to the alley, as if saying,
'Follow me.'

Garrett
*******

I must have been addled, I thought, to rescue that whore.

My dislike of the watchmen runs deep enough that I didn't regret my
actions, especially not after he offered to pay his way however I
wanted. I was still foolish.

He followed me home tamely enough. Going up the stairs to my rooms, we
were stopped by an irritating fellow tenant, who remarked suggestively
that he didn't know Coren did house calls. The kid replied that he
hadn't known the man had a house, or he would have, calling the man by
name. I tried to ignore them, locking the door as soon as the whore
had entered my little apartment. He apologized; I ignored that, too. I
took off my eyepatch and shirt, lying down on my bed. He took off his
shirt too, and I noticed that his chest muscles were well defined.
Clearly, he kept himself in shape. I could guess how. He knelt on the
edge of the bed and asked what I wanted him to do. I told him it
didn't matter much.

Coren is amazingly skilled, for a tavern whore. I decided he could
stay, as long as he would pay.

*****

The strange criminal was the first man I serviced who gave me free
rein as to what I did. The experience was incredible. I was able to
find out exactly what he liked, and I think he worked out what I
liked, too. I was very grateful when he let me fall asleep in his
arms. I was surprised, too, because of how arrogant good criminals
often were, an arrogance this one seemed to share, but mostly glad; I
was thoroughly exhausted.

I had deduced by this time that the man was a very good criminal, from
the fact that his clothes did not have a single patch, and from the
noncommital way in which he had returned the gold coin, as if he saw
such things every day. It was likely he was a house burglar, since he
clearly was used to the idea of wealth. Also, I knew he was smart,
since he lived in a deceptively cheap apartment. A less intelligent
burglar might spend money on suspiciously expensive lodgings. Now, I
hear a lot of gossip from clients, and there is only one "master
thief" in the city. All of my noble clients would love to get their
hands around his neck. I ended up getting my hands all over him.

"Do you want to stay here?" asked the thief when we awoke the next
evening. I nodded, too sleepy yet for words. "Will you pay?" he asked.
Again, I nodded, this time so hard my neck hurt. I would 'pay' him
with any amount of my services. I didn't know why, but I found this
arrogant, infamous man incredibly attractive. "I guess you can stay,
then." He climbed out of the bed and dressed in a dusky black outfit
like the one he had worn the night before.

"I have work to do. I presume you do, as well?"

I sat up and stretched, noting with a certain smug pleasure that he
watched from the corner of his eye. "Yes, but it can wait long enough
for breakfast," I replied, scanning the room for my clothing.

"Here." He tossed a bundle of clothing to me, clothes that wouldn't
stand out in a crowd, though they were made of fine, satiny cloth.

I dressed slowly, savouring the unusual sensation of being able to
take my time.

"Come out," called Garrett from the main room. I jumped a little; I
hadn't noticed when he'd left.

He was toasting bread on the hearth. There was a small kettle hanging
over the fire. Garrett stirred it occasionally. He had set out two
places on the table: simple pewter plates and bowls, and roughly
carved wooden spoons, such as would be expected for someone who had to
settle for lodgings in this place.

"You're very sensible, I see. Other, less skilful burglars would have
golden plates and silver spoons."

Garrett harrumphed. "Other, less skilful burglars would be in prison."
He sounded pleased, despite his contemptuous tone.

He served the food and we ate in silence, neither of us very much at
ease with the other. Garrett fairly inhaled his food and left before I
could bid him farewell. I didn't blame him.

*******

I put Coren out of my mind the instant I exited the building, uneasy
as his deduction of my identity had made me. I had work to do. I could
not afford distractions. The night before, I had overheard one of
Lord Bafford's men, who had obviously drunk too much, bragging to a
friend that his oh-so-smart Lord had created a foolproof way to keep
thieves out. I also happened to hear that Lord Bafford had acquired a
very fine emerald, certainly fine enough to warrant my attention. I
needed to know how Bafford thought he could keep me out before the
method caught on. I also needed the money I could get by selling the gem.
I had a map of Bafford's manor already, so all I needed to do was get
there, generally a risky proposition.

*note for beta-reader: if I recall correctly, Lord Bafford is the
first person you rob in the first game. I think I remember the streets
around being well-lit, but I have to go look at that again, and as I
write this, I'm on the wrong computer to do that.*

Getting to Bafford's manor had been ridiculously easy, much more than
it had been the last time I'd robbed the place, a year before. Getting
in, on the other hand, was harder. There was a fence of electricity
around the walls. I didn't touch it, figuring it would burn me. So
this was Bafford's foolproof guard, was it? I realised the fence had
to be shut off sometimes, to let people in and out. Unfortunately for
me, the switch was certainly behind the field, safe from thieves. I
crept around the edge until I was near the servants' entrance. I heard
someone coming and looked around. A man was walking up the path to the
door. I crept closer, ready to slip through the door if the fence was
shut off to let him in. The man stopped and tapped a pattern on the
door with a wooden pole he was carrying. The fence was shut off and
the door opened. I was close enough to slip through before it was
closed again, but the hallway past the door was lit up with torches,
leaving me nowhere to hide. When Bafford's guest went through the
doorway, I realised it was Coren. Well, well, well. The esteemed Lord
Bafford wasn't quite so 'noble' after all.

Now, how to get in? Whoever was sitting at the switch right now
probably wasn't going to let anyone else in. The fence didn't even go
most of the way up the wall. If I could just get past that fence,
getting in would be easy.

*****