In hindsight, it would turn out to be the worst kind of day for a robbery.
Cai was freezing, he had always hated the cold, and at the moment he was crouched down behind a barrel in a cold and wet alley. Even worse than the cold, was the fact that the rainwater in the alley was soaking through his new favorite boots. The alley in itself was nondescript as far as alleys go. It stunk of refuse and filth, and the ground was all covered in grime. Cai was pretty sure something lived in the farthest corner or several somethings. He periodically heard the pattering of feet, and he would catch glimpses of movement in the corner of his eye.
There was a spattering of clouds in the sky this evening. The red sun shone like a halo over the final rays of the setting yellow sun. The effect creating a beautiful ambiance of color. It was a warm and pleasant evening for the crowds in the street, the kind of evening that would draw a person out for a nice stroll or a cup of wine with friends. Warm and nice, except of course if you were spending your time in a shaded alley, soaking your best pair of boots in a puddle formed by the remnants of the mornings’ cloud break.
Other than these inconveniences, and of course, it's less than odorous charm, the alley was perfect for what they had in mind. Situated between a wine house and brothel, the alley went inwards for over a hundred paces, making it ideal for hiding a day time robbery. Cai sat squatting behind a barrel about two-thirds of the way down the alley. His position was good, keeping him hidden from view of anyone passing on the street, while still being able to see the entrance to the street and anyone coming into the alley. He was perfectly placed for what they had planned.
Where was Silk? He thought. Cai could not help himself, he always worried about her no matter how many times they successfully robbed a mark.
What was taking her so long to find them a mark for the play? Had something gone wrong?
They had run this play several times now. Silk would saunter down the street by the midscale wine houses in the bronze ring. She would be wearing her most revealing dress and an enticing smile, looking to find them a suitable mark. Then she would lure him down a side alley where Cai would be waiting with a weighted sap to knock him out. Instinctively he flexed his hand, feeling the reassuring weight of the sap he was holding. The wooden handle was almost starting to feel a little too familiar to him.
He had made the sap himself, the handle was fire-hardened shell wood, recognizable by the deep dark veins in the otherwise auburn-colored wood. At the top of the handle, Cai had inserted two hand lengths of spring steel. The steel he had found in a trash barrel behind one of the artisan shops in the iron ring. After mounting the spring steel he had covered it in layer upon layer of scrap leather. Before finally tying it all down with golass plant fiber thread. He was quite proud of the work, it was quality craftsmanship, made by his own hands. He always found pleasure in making things himself, the sap was no exception.
With a little practice, he had learned the wrist snap to make the spring steel flex and bounce back with enough force to knock a man out.
Thinking of the first practice run he had done, Cai made a grimace, half-smile, half sneer. The reason he made a practice run was simple. It was one thing for a man to wake up with a bump on his head, an empty purse, and bootless if they were Cai's size. A murder on the other hand would have the Red Ravens turning over every stone, raiding all the rat's nests and shack houses looking for the killer. Even though Cai and Silk would probably be safe, hidden away in their hawks' nest, the commotion would upset the business of the Twilight Men. Everyone making plays in the lower rings knew that crossing the guild would have you floating face down in one of the ring streams before you knew what hit you. The nights in the Ring city had eyes everywhere.
Such was life on the streets down here in the lower rings.
Thinking back to that practice run he sneered again. He had hidden in an alley even more disgusting than the one he was in now. Conjuring up an image of that night he could almost smell the rancid food and emptied night pots that had stunk up that other alley something terrible. The thought alone made him wrinkle his nose
He had chosen that alley specifically because it was behind one of the “pits,” a short term for flesh pits. The darkest type of place in the city. Where bodies were sold for a few silver. Sold for an hour, for a night, for a life, or for a death.
He did not have to wait long before a fat Carran man stumbled out. Cai recognized him as Carran from his dark eyes, olive complexion, and a pointed beard with no mustache.
Stumbling over to the wall, the man had fumbled with his breeches, obviously intent on relieving himself. When he heard the stream start, Cai snuck up on him and hit him hard, just over the right ear.
The man collapsed to the ground, but on his way down he knocked over a stack of wooden crates. To Cai's ears the noise was deafening. He almost dove back into the shadowed corner he had hidden in before. As he was crouching down to make himself as small as possible, he heard a strange buzzing sound from above. He looked up, but could not see any source for the strange noise.
A small slit on the door snapped open. Through the opening Cai could see the eyes of a man scanning the alley. When his eyes fell on the Carran, he mumbled a few words, then he spat out the slit before slamming it shut.
Heart racing, Cai let out a slow staggering breath. He hadn't even noticed holding it in. “Black stagnation!” he said under his breath. He stayed in the corner until he heard the man groaning, it took maybe a hundred count. Cai had learned what he came for, even though, if he was honest with himself, he had hit the man harder than needed. Disgusting bastard deserved what he got!
Where was Silk!? He was getting very worried now;
Then there was a sound from the street, and in the entrance to the alley he could see the outline of two figures. One short and slender, the other at least four handspans taller, and twice as wide. This must be Silk with their latest mark.
When they came a few steps closer Cai could see the man was wearing a green wool tarqa with dark blue trim.
It was a popular outfit in the ring city, almost like a tunic, with stiff pointed shoulders that made a man look wider. The tarqa was double-breasted with eight shining gilded buttons. Was that some sort of an emblem stamped on them? It was one of the long-style tarqa’s, going all the way down to mid-thigh, split up on both sides to the hips. It did look a bit stiffer than usual. Could it be armored in some way? Cai had seen fighters and duelists with the armored kind.
Heart quickening, he scanned the man for signs of weapons.
No rapier or slinger on his belt, the buckle did not look like it contained a spring knife, or any other kind of hidden surprise Cai knew of. The man's shirt was too tight against his forearms to be hiding a weapons bracer. The only thing Cai could see was a plated two-finger ring on the man's right hand.
Looking up at his face he was surprised to see it was clean-shaven, sculpted with sharp cheekbones and a thin nose. Not common features in the ring city. It was the eyes that set him back though, they were light grey, sharp, and focused. Not at all like the drunken bleary eyes of their normal marks. Looking down at Silk he was hoping for a sign, willing her to signal him in some way so he could get an indication of what in the name of the seven rings she was thinking. While focusing on Silk, out of the corner of his eye he thought he caught a glimpse of something. When the man stepped next, light from the street hit something in his ear. Half hidden by hair Cai could see a golden hoop, on the hoop was a red stone the size of a man's knuckle. Black ring! He knew what had happened now, Silk had always had this blasted obsession with red jewels.
Cai could feel his anger surging up! The madness of it was astounding, how could she risk this. He knew he was covering up his fear for Silk with anger, but he did not care, anger feels powerful, fear feels weak. They would have words about taking such a foolish risk after. A little voice in his head said, “see the size of it, larger than a golass berry, it could feed you for month's”. Pushing the greedy voice aside he tried to gain control over his anger, it did not matter now anyway, the play was set and it was too late to stop. Shifting his focus back to the mark, he emptied his mind of all other thoughts, this had to be perfectly executed.
Cai slid his right foot slightly back, shifting his balance to the front of his feet and toes. Silk had gotten the mark positioned now. Almost exactly on the spot they had picked out when scouting the alley earlier. Flexing the muscles in his legs he got ready to pounce.
“Oy oy doll! T'is far enough, let's see what you have to show old A’kanh eeh!”. The man-made a grab at the front of Silk's dress.
In that instant Cai shot out of hiding like a bolt from a handloader, straight towards the mark.
And that's when it all fell apart.
--
Silk stood hidden in the shadow of a doorway, surveying the street. She was looking for a suitable mark for this evening's play. When she was young her 'karra had trained her in the art of true observation, to see what was there and what was not, she had explained. Being attuned to the flow she had called it, and endlessly drilled Silk in the practice. In every room, garden, park or market they went to, Silk had been made to stand still. Stand still and observe. Observe until she became attuned to the flow of the place. Sometimes her ‘karra had made Silk stand still for more than thirty turnings. That was a long long time for a little girl to be still. A small smile flickered over her face, accompanied by a melancholy feeling and a sting of sadness. The way she always felt when her mind visited memories of her 'karra. Sending a quick thought of gratitude and love, she pulled her focus back to the street.
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The streets were busy this evening, hawkers were still calling out their wares to the flow of people. Groups of young men in finely cut tarqas, noble sons of lesser families most likely, were strolling in groups between the wine houses and cat houses, out looking for this evening entertainment, be it drink, brawling or women. Pathetic boys! Silk sniffed to herself, tempting with their bawdy jewelry and their heavy ring chains, but it was complicating isolating a target from the groups. A duo of slinger mages caught her eye, their distinct bandoliers with elemental slingers strapped across the lightly armored tarqas in the azure color of the storm clan. We are staying far away from those two, she thought to herself. Only a suicidal fool would mess with a slinger mage, not to mentioned a battle pair. Enough distraction she thought and calmed her mind to faster achieve attunement..
Her training had been effective, it only took her a couple of turnings to get attuned to the flow of the street, seeing what was, and what was not, effortlessly she weaved into the evermoving pattern of people.
She spotted him as soon as she entered the hustle and bustle of the street. He was tall, all men were tall to Silk, but this man was taller than most. Even taller than Cai who was already an unusual height for a ring dweller. The man's height was not the reason he stood out to her though, in the flow of the street he was like an isle in a river. Like one of the mid rocks in the ring streams, and people streamed around him, unconsciously giving him a wide berth.
She stopped a few paces away to observe him closer, pretending like she was looking in a shop window, Silk took her measure of the potential mark. He was standing outside one of the many Winehouse’s this part of the bronze ring was known for. Standing by one of the establishments outside tables that he shared with two other men. He was wearing a well fitted red tarqa with gold trimmings. She could see it was clearly of very good quality, indicating a man of some means.
The three men were in some spirited conversation, judging by the gestures and the volume of voices. Letting her gaze shift, Silk gave the two other men each a quick look over. One was skinny, gaunt even, with a rat-like face and beady eyes. The other one looked like a large piece of dough stuffed in too small a sack. From the body language displayed by both they were far from pack leaders, always good in a mark, but no rings, chains, chronographs, or other jewelry made her dismiss them almost immediately.
Three breaths for focus, then she took a step forward, pretending to study something of particular interest in the window, when actually she had spotted an opportunity to use another trick taught to her by her 'karra. The reflective surface of a, yet-to-be-lit glower functioned as a mirror that let Silk watch her mark as closely as she wanted without being spotted.
The man that first had caught her eye was gesticulating widely and boldly, a good sign the tankard he was holding was not his first. That pleased her “the more intoxicated the better” she thought to herself. The bottle they had on the table was made of blueglass, making it hard to see what was inside. However, the dark burgundy stain in Ratty's wispy beard told her it was probably Carran wine. A disgusting drink if there ever was one, but strong, very strong. Good, she had almost seen enough, and was close to making her pick for the play. Then something happened to change her mind.
The tall man made an expansive gesture and pointed down the street, both Raty and Doughy leaned in to see what he was pointing at. Quick as a stream eel, the tall man flicked something on a two-finger ring he was wearing and tapped Doughy on the shoulder. The man swore and slapped at it, turning around quicker than Silk would have thought a man of his size could move. Swinging his head left and right but seeing no one else close to the three of them, he turned back around with a suspicious glare towards To-tall. That was what Silk had decided to name the third man. Seeing To-tall standing there with his tankard in his hand, and an almost perfectly executed look of innocence on his face, Doughy spat on the ground and swore again. “To-tall was not all bark, he had a bite to, or sting if you will, she thought. Silk could not know what the needle in the ring had been coated with, but she suspected finding out would be anything but pleasant for Doughy.
This new and surprisingly dangerous side of the man she had just seen was most certainly the reason people streamed around him, they could sense a predator, even if only subconsciously. How could she have missed it? Berating herself, in her mind she could almost hear the voice of her 'karra, “Impatience is for fools and men, find your center and really see what is to be seen, child!” She was nothing better than a child, and a fool child at that to have so completely missed the signs. Looking again now it was so obvious. The body language, the gestures, the volume of his voice, the way his eyelids seemed heavy with drink. It was all an act. Every time he brought the tankard close to his lips, some utterance took it away. It was too controlled, too well-timed. He was good, she grudgingly admitted to herself, too good. The risk of setting up a play on a man like that was too big.
“Too bad!” Silk thought as she turned away, Cai would have loved his boots.
Then she froze. To-tall ran his fingers through his hair, and like the red moon emerging from behind the black, a large red stone on a gold hoop appeared, as large as a man's knuckle, it was revealed by the motion of his hand going through his hair. There it hung dangling, beautifully red, dangling from the man's earlobe. Powerful emotions welled up in her. There was a maelstrom of pain, guilt, loss, and utter sadness. The sight of the stone had touched something in her, and from the black hole she had in the back of her mind whispers could be heard, flashes of half-formed images in her mind. It was the place she could not touch, the place she would not look, the place where the memories of... Digging a fingernail into the fleshy part of her left palm deep enough to draw blood, she stopped the onslaught oozing from that black hole. The sharp pain took her away from the edge of darkness. The last time the hole had sucked her inn she had lost close to a full moon cycle before she came back to herself. She did not even want to think about where she had woken up, or in what state she had been. The surge of emotions was over, but left in its wake was a hunger, no not a hunger, a need, a need to possess that red stone.
“Oyy doll! See something to catch your fancy!.” To-tall shouted at her. The loud sound of his voice rudely jerked her back to the present. Then she realized she had been staring, openly staring straight at him. Looking down and blushing furiously, Silk told herself it was part of her act to catch his attention. She most certainly had not lost control of her emotions, not at all. Looking up again, To-tall had turned towards her, at this angle she had a full view of that magnificent red stone in his ear. Silk could still feel the echoes of the maelstrom pulsating from that dark place at the back of her mind. She knew the only way to put it back to sleep now was to acquire the red stone for hers to keep. With an effort of will she centered herself, her focus firmly back on the play. She thought to herself “That stone is mine, he just does not know it yet!” Then she looked up and met To-tall's eyes, she put on her most inviting smile as she started to glide towards him.
- -
The watcher had observed the manling youth in the alley for twenty-three turnings on his timepiece. He made a note with the exact time, in what would be yet another less than exciting observation log. This was the third observation mission on this specific manling, there had been no incident of importance pertaining to the four edicts in the previous two. So far, this mission was even less eventful than the previous ones. At least the second mission had the excitement of the altercation between the manling youth and the corpulent manling with the curious facial hair. Thinking back on that specific log, there was of course no mention of his ever so slight breach of the protocol of distance on that mission, he yearned for something of importance to happen. Actually he would settle for anything at all happening at this point
As far as The watcher was concerned, the orbit masters must be mistaken in their predictions on this particular manling, however it was not his place to voice such concerns. Far be it from me to question the great orbit masters and their formulae, he thought sarcastically. On the other hand, this was his twelfth observation mission, and so far, not a single subject had displayed any sign of the affinities, not any sign at all. That fact would be the essence of his next report to the council, yet again.
Twenty-five turnings. Routinely the watcher flipped through the lenses of his monocle-piece, the little gears spinning rapidly with the quick changes. Nothing to note in the sapphire spectrum, nothing in ruby, nothing in emerald neither...all the way to the black obsidian lense, nothing.
He started on his obligatory description of the manling for his log, hardly necessary as it had been only six full rotations since his last report, but protocol was protocol. Brown of hair and green of eye, he noted. The weight he remembered from his last log, one hundred and forty-five pounds. But what about the height? Bat dung! He couldn't remember. Manipulating the monocle again, he found the lens with the geometric triangles worked into it, he measured his own shadow for calibrations, manipulating the small screws, four knots left, no three and a half, perfect. Next he overlaid the triangle lens with the obsidian one, to see the manlings shadow in the dark, the only part he got a good angle on was the shadow of the left leg, The watcher then proceeded to extrapolate the total height. Eighteen and a half hands, minus a finger or two, ridiculously high he thought to himself as he unconsciously stretched himself up to his full height of seven hands even. The watcher looked back towards the target in the alley and gave a start when he realized the situation had evolved rapidly in his brief moment of distraction. Two figures had moved into proximity of the manling crouched behind the barrel. He gave another start when the manling suddenly shot towards the larger of the two, quick as a tunnel wyrm.
---
Two bounding steps brought Cai in range of the mark. Lifting his right hand with the sap, he swung the arm in an arch to create enough force to knock him out. The blow was aimed at the man's temple. Right before the blow connected, the man stepped aside. Simultaneously reaching back and grabbing Cai’s wrist. He twisted Cai’s arm violently, forcing him down to the ground.. Looking up he saw straight into the man's face. His face had an expression like a wild mask from the carnivals, a wicked grin and eyes blazing.
The fiery pain of his twisted arm stood in sharp contrast to the sensation of cold water and grime soaking through his clothes. Oddly he could smell a distinct note of cinnamon among the bouquet of alley trash and the sweat of the man.
Cai hissed in pain as the man kicked him in the ribs, hard. One time, two times, he braced himself for a third kick that never came. Instead he heard a grunt of surprise and the grip on his arm was released. His bruised ribs made it hard to move, a taste of metal in his mouth. When he managed to look up again he saw the man standing with his back turned. It looked like he was fending someone off. “Black stagnation and a trice halted void spawn...” the man swore, before the stream of curses was cut off by a grunt. The man stepped back, and coming into sight was Silk. Who at that moment executed a kick towards the man's nether region.
--
Barely avoiding her kick. To-tall lunged for her, she easily ducked under his arms. Then she did a half pivot and sent another kick towards the side of his knee. There was a horrible snapping sound. To-tall roared in rage and pain. The leg buckled under him, and he collapsed to the ground. Silk allowed herself a quick smile of satisfaction. Stepping towards the fallen man, she was looking for an angle to hit one of the three points of subjugation her ‘karra had taught her. She aimed for the one in the neck. Rotating on the left foot to send the toe of her right boot straight into the cluster of nerves. She had anticipated his reaction, remembering how effortlessly he had stopped Cai’s assault. As the man tried to grab her leg, she jumped up and spun, sending her left heel towards his temple instead. What she had not anticipated was the whirring sound of little gears and the stinging sensation of a metal needle entering her thigh.
--
Cai could not believe his eyes. Had he been standing he knew his legs would have given out and dumped him back on the ground. The way Silk moved! There was an elegance to it, a flow, and a brutal efficiency. Crack, the sound of the man’s leg breaking was nauseating. She moved in on him again. It all happened so fast. Cai saw what she could not. As she came spinning through the air. The man flicked his fingers, opening a panel on his two-finger ring. Then he made a fist aimed at Silk, and a small dart came flying out of the hidden compartment. Crying out, Cai got his feet under him and staggered towards the man. He had to protect her, he had to! As he got near, arm outstretched, the man grabbed it and yanked Cai down towards himself. He proceeded by smashing his forehead into Cai’s nose.There was a crunch, and Cai could feel warm liquid gushing down his face before the world went dark.