“Do you know where Giovani keeps his money?” Rose leaned against the backrest of her bed.

“No,” Augustus admitted. He stood in the center of the six-bed apartment, stroking his neatly trimmed mustache. “He’s a criminal, though. Men like that can’t keep all their money in one place, and most dwarven banks won’t deal with illegitimate businesses.”

“So we’re assumin’?” Skiggi scowled, bushy black brows forming a hedge. “You’re bustin’ in on assumptions, Gus? That’s dangerous. We need better intel than that!” Beads embedded in his beard and hair rattled as he shook his head. “How many guards are there? Do we have a detailed layout of Bianchi Manor? Ill-planned heists are doomed to fail, Gus.”

“Even well-planned heists can fail,” Dori, nestled beside her husband, added. A mattress barely comfortable for a human offered more than enough room for the dwarves.

“I know that Master Giovani Bianchi frequently attends local balls to maintain appearances with the upper-class citizens,” Augustus said. “His wife and children accompany their father on such occasions, which makes the job less complicated. Bianchi Manor is a single-story complex with a perimeter barrier that extends from the city wall. And it would be much easier for me to go in alone, crack the safe, and get out with the money.”

“You’re not leaving my sight,” Rose reminded.

“So we need to figure out how to get you in without being seen,” Gus explained as he clasped his hands behind his back. “We don’t have time to work our way into their trust. We must rely on stealth. That’s why it’s silly for Rose to get involved. I can get in and out much easier by myself. This isn’t Rose’s job. We all stand to make a lot of money if we’re successful. I think we should vote on the matter.”

Rose bolted upright. “No!”

“Gus has a point,” Skiggi said. “He’s as slick as a weasel.”

“No,” Rose crossed her arms.

“You let me do all the work in Goldhill,” Gus said. “Why can’t you trust me now? I’ll make it out okay, regardless of what happens.”

Rose chuckled. “You will not intimidate me.”

“What do you think, Dori?” Gus asked, turning to the dwarven lady lying next to her husband.

Dori looked from Rose to Gus to Skiggi. “Hm,” she mused aloud, tapping her cheek with her forefinger. “If you don’t have any intel, then it sounds like you could use all the help you can get.”

Gus’ heart plummeted. She’s more pure or more clever than I thought.

“And how do you vote, Skiggi?” Rose eyed the dwarf. “You’ve made your thoughts on the matter known. Where does your vote land now? Do you disagree with Dori? Should we let Gus go into Bianchi Manor alone? Should we let him take as much money as he can carry just to watch him drift away across the Far Waters without us? Do you think that’s a good idea? Truly?”

Skiggi looked down at his wife, whose head rested on his chest. Glimmering eyes peered back at him through a tangle of coarse black hairs. “Oh, well, I suppose you have your points.”

Augustus sighed as he unfolded his hands. “Okay. We’ll have to wait until the next ball, then.”

“Giovani’s hosting a dinner party soon,” Dori said. “Even Countess Ciraulo will be there.” Everyone in the room turned their eyes on the little woman. She shied away from their gaze, shrinking behind her husband’s thick beard and round belly. “What? I heard people talking about it in the tavern.”

Gus exchanged a knowing look with Rose. She grinned mischievously. “We don’t have money for expensive costumes,” Gus said. “So that rules out attending the ball as guests.” Rose’s expression darkened.

“What if we entertain?” Dori asked.

“The ball is in two days,” Gus said. “Giovani secured entertainment weeks ago. A lot of planning goes into this type of event—especially when the host is less influential than his guests.”

“He’ll want to impress everyone. He’ll…” Rose trailed off. “Wait. That’s not a bad idea, Dori!” The little dwarf looked both amused by herself and confused by Rose’s compliment. “Giovani will already have musicians, but what about other entertainment: actors, acrobats, pyros? Something that will make his event stand out from the typical stuffy dinner party. This is what we specialize in, Gus!”

Skiggi tugged at his beard while nodding his head. “Now that sounds like a plan, though vague.”

“We’re working with limited resources,” Rose reminded. “We all know men like Giovani Bianchi would keep a stash nearby. His home is the most likely place. It has walls, guards, and servants protecting it. Gus and I will go to Bianchi Manor and secure the job. While Gus is sweeping the manor, looking for a safe or a strong box, we will entertain or earn the trust of Giovani’s guests and other performers. They may know something we don’t. This will be the most dangerous job we’ve ever attempted, so be prepared for anything.” Silence filled the apartment.

Rose looked at each of them one by one. Finally, satisfied, she said, “Sounds like the matter is settled.”

“Not quite,” Gus said.

Rose scoffed.

“Giovani is a crime lord. What if he sniffs out your little heist?”

Rose scrunched up her face and looked at the dirty floor. She chewed on her lip, then looked at Gus. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little desperate!”

Rose walked close behind as they moved through the city's winding alleyways. They trudged up a steep slope and turned onto the only road leading to the Manor District, where the wealthiest and most privileged of Caliacra lived in their lavish mansions. And a snake makes its den amongst them. Without a notion of nobility, anyone with enough resources can become a member of the elite—even a criminal like Giovani. A distant memory echoed in his mind: “Every noble is a criminal,” Calum had once told him. “Alexander was not welcomed into Ilbean with open arms. He was met with arms. Arthur did not ask your ancestors to step aside. He swept them aside. Sometimes we must go beyond the laws of men.”

“Are you sure about this?” Gus asked.

“I don’t see another way out,” Rose said. “Besides, we’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

“You have everything to lose,” Gus said. “How do I know this isn’t a setup? You help Giovani catch me red-handed, gaining his favor and his protection. You act like I can’t be trusted.” He chuckled. “Why should I trust you?”

Rose placed her hands on her hips. “You’re a few words away from another smack to your head.” Augustus did not shy away from her furious glare. “We’ll just have to take a chance and see how the coin toss lands, Gus. Do you want a promise? Because those can be broken. Would you like a guarantee? Well, sorry, but I can’t offer you that.”

Gus grunted as he tugged at the collar of his cloak, then resumed walking. All of my instincts are telling me to cut ties and run.

My ship leaves in four days.

They approached an eight-foot gate of iron bars pinched between walls of white-painted stones. Two men with curved swords at their hips but no armor stood guard. They wore black dyed shirts and breeches with brown sailing boots on their feet. Tattoos decorated their arms. “What do you want?” a swordsman with shaggy hair asked.

“We heard your master is hosting a dinner party, and we came to offer our services,” Gus said. He bowed to the men. “Is your master home?”

The shaggy-haired man smiled at his balding companion, and the two laughed. “Do you dance?” He walked up to Gus with a hand on his sword. “I’m a pretty good dancer, myself.” He circled Gus, then moved behind Rose. “What kind of entertainment do you offer, pretty thing?” He brushed the tail of her hair aside with his hand, then circled both of them. “Well? Are you going to answer me?”

“She’s a—uh—dancer,” Gus stammered. “And I’m—”

“Getting on my nerves,” the shaggy-haired guardsman said. He drew his sword, flashed its blade at Gus, and then sheathed it. “I tell you what, if you dance for us right here, sweetheart, we’ll let you speak with our master.”

Rose looked at Gus. Her cheeks burned red, and her hands folded themselves into shaking fists.

Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. “We’re not here to talk to you,” Augustus said. He stepped forward. “We’re here to discuss business with your boss—Giovani. How about you get out of our way before I tell Master Giovani how you hoped to deny him the opportunity to present his guests with mystifying entertainment? With our help, his party will be the talk of the town for months to come! With help like you skulking about, he’ll be lucky if his guests come back.”

The shaggy man’s smile fell into a deep scowl. He shared a worried glance with the balding guard, then looked Gus up and down. “You got spirit.” He spat. “Come on. I’ll show you in.” The balding swordsman pulled open one of the iron gates, and the shaggy man led them into a square courtyard overshadowed by a tiled red roof. A well sat in the center. Servants filled buckets at the well, and others scrubbed the white walls and granite columns with bristly brushes. “Julia!” A brown-haired servant girl in a plain white dress sat down her bucket and brush, stepped out of the shadow of a column, and ran to meet the visitors. “Julia, these entertainers want to speak to Master Giovani. Will you call upon the master?”

If only he treated their guests like he treated their servants, Gus mused. They stood in the courtyard, watching the servants scrub their master’s house clean, waiting for the man to appear. The servants did not bow or shy away from Giovani when he did. Instead, they smiled and called his name as if welcoming a friend. Giovani, his head shaved clean, his arms curled to his chest and hands folded, stood at the top of a marble staircase, wearing a solid white toga candida. Is this how he presents himself to high society? He’s lucky to still be alive.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“I welcome you to my home,” Giovani spread his arms out wide.

“We welcome your hospitality.” Gus bowed. “We are the Moonlit Mysterium. We’ve come from the East, performing and entertaining commoners and nobles alike. Fortune brought us to your doorstep, wise master.” He paused, taking notice of the servants whose ears were pointed in his direction. “We understand you are hosting a dinner party and offer our services to ensure that tales of your splendor, grandeur, and cultured tastes are remembered for generations!”

Giovani clapped his hands. “You’re good!” He laughed, as did the shaggy-haired swordsman who stood beside Gus wearing a stupid smile. Giovani stepped down into the courtyard and approached Gus with an outstretched hand. Augustus took the crime boss’s hand and accepted a firm shake. “You have charisma. What other talents do you have?”

“Ballads, songs, dances, illusions, and pyrotechnics,” Gus said. He released Giovani’s hand. “As well as acrobatics.”

“I don’t know,” Giovani stepped away. “It seems a little too much. What do you think?” he asked the shaggy guardsman. “Has the count ever offered such spectacles? Besides, I’ve already secured entertainment, and money has been exchanged. I appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid I must graciously decline.”

“You’re making a mistake!” Rose cried.

Gus’ head snapped around, his eyes locked on to Rose. Her face scrunched up in an expression that said: “Sorry!”

“Oh?” Giovani leaned back and peered down his nose. “My wife planned the whole thing. Can I turn around and say: Your efforts were wasted because some gypsies wanted to join the party?” The laughter of servants and guards filled the courtyard. “It would be an insult!”

“We meant no insult.” Rose shrugged. “We’re just looking for work because the people of Caliacra spend all their money trying not to starve. Meanwhile, the wealthy look down on our kind. You call us ‘gypsies?’ We’re just travelers—singers and performers. We don’t belong to any nation or people.” Giovani did not look impressed. “We’re professionals. Here—” Rose walked over to the well. “Build a stage over the well—a tower—and put the pyros on top. Let them light up the night as your guests enter your estate.” She moved across the courtyard with grace, half-dancing as she stepped. She swept her eyes down the red front door and the marble steps. “May we enter?”

Giovani raised his left hand. “Go, go.” He nodded, encouraging Rose’s fanciful flight. “I’ll hear you out, but I’m not making any promises.” He followed Rose, who climbed the steps and waited for a servant boy to pull the door open for her.

I don’t like the way he looks at her, Gus concluded.

Carriages rolled up to the gate and dispensed their decadent passengers: women in frilled gowns wearing pearls and gleaming gemstones, men in colorful suits with sharp-cut collars and cuffs. They arrived in groups of four to six. These were the small units that formed the social foundation of the city. Gus memorized who arrived with whom. Countess Ciraulo’s carriage was a beautiful ivory, carved by elvish hands and embedded with runs of twirling silver. Her entourage comprised a dozen men and women—the most decedent guests. Everyone gawked at the dwarven pyros dancing on their wooden tower, circling each other as they twirled burning batons in each hand, except the Countess, who regarded the display with a disinterested glance.

The guests passed through the courtyard, pointing and smiling at the exotic fireworks, entering the manor through the open door at the top of its marble step.

Gus and Rose provided a soft duet of flute and voice, hidden under the overhanging roof of the manor. Distracted by the dwarves and their dance, hardly anyone noticed the source of their ambiance. After the last guests arrived, the balding guardsman (now wearing a long-sleeved jacket to cover his tattoos) shut the iron gates of the complex and locked them. Skiggi and Dori’s dance slowed to a standstill. They quenched their batons in a hidden bucket at the center of their platform, releasing a little cloud of steam. That’s the signal. Gus handed his flute to Rose and picked up his dust-covered cloak from the ground. “Good luck,” he said.

“Just be back before the dance,” Rose said.

Augustus threw his cloak over his shoulders and spun, becoming invisible. He bounded across the courtyard, carried by a sudden breeze that swept him up the steps and through the open door. A group of musicians in fine suits sat across a vast chamber in cushioned chairs before a backdrop of long rectangular windows, providing a complete ensemble of sounds to match the energy of the evening. The Masters of the city mingled in clusters, exchanging handshakes and pleasantries. Those primary units broke away and joined with other cliques. The similarity between this gathering of merchant lords and the noble balls in Alexandria fascinated Gus, for he studied such cultural exchanges during his time in the Temple. He continued through the main hall, moving like a ghost amongst the living, unable to join in the celebrations and revelry of their fortunate lives. He made it to the foot of an enormous staircase as the banquet hall doors opened. The Master of the House appeared alongside his wife and their two children to greet his guests.

Giovani stood with his hands folded behind his back, dressed in a sharp-cut suit nearly identical to every other man’s. The music and gossip slowly gave way to silence. “Welcome to my home! I’m honored to have you all here on this splendid occasion.”

It looks like Giovani took our advice.

Augustus moved up the steps. Two doors waited at the top, directly before him and to the right of him. A third door stood across the balcony. Once Giovani finished speaking, he guided his guests into his dining hall. The shaggy-haired guard exited the dining hall and closed the door behind the procession. Rose, Skiggi, and Dori led a host of servants into the room. They began moving furniture and rolling out long carpets on either side. “Where’s that pompous fellow?” the shaggy man asked Rose.

“He cracked his flute!” Rose said. She stood upon a chair, hanging red drapery along the tops of the rectangular windows. “And he left his spare in our wagon.”

The other servants will be in the kitchens or tending to the guests. Giovani’s guards are stationed outside, avoiding contact with said prestigious guests. Augustus crept across the balcony and gave the door a push. It opened. He slipped through the door into a hallway with broad framed paintings decorating either wall. Between each painting stood a red door. He pulled each door open from left to right, finding a broom closet, a set of stairs leading into the attic, and sleeping quarters for servants.

He retreated down the hall.

Exiting the door, he spotted the guardsman pacing around the main hall. “How long does it take to grab a flute?”

“Minutes! Mere minutes.” Rose called over her shoulder, standing on her tiptoes, struggling to loop a large red curtain over the window sill’s bronze hook. “That buffoon always loses them! Damn that man!” She threw the drapery aside and stepped down from the chair. “You!” She pointed at the shaggy man. “You’re taller than me. Hang this!” The guardsman stood with his mouth ajar and his brows furrowed. “Your master’s party must be perfect!” The guardsman rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

Augustus moved across the balcony and entered the next door.

A library or office of sorts, with bookshelves lining the walls. A desk sat against the far wall under the painting of a caravel sailing upon a stormy sea. Gus searched the desk first. Its drawers were locked, but a few loose letters lay scattered over its top. He fought the urge to read them. Instead, Gus searched behind the painting and the many bookshelves. Fruitless, he abandoned the room, slipping through the door to the balcony.

“Are you sure he’s coming back?” The shaggy man asked Rose as he carried a bundle of curtains for her. “Maybe he’s suffering from stage fright?”

“That’s doubtful,” Rose said.

Gus entered the last door. It led into another hall. The first room on the right contained a canopy bed, a large wardrobe, vivid paintings on its walls, and a vanity near a window. Second was another bedroom outfitted with a feather bed and fine furniture. The only door on the left and the last in the hall swung open, revealing the master bedroom: a large chamber with a bear's fur rug, a sofa, a broad bed beneath a red canopy, and many exquisite decorations. Two tattoo-covered guardsmen stood next to the private hearth. “Who’s there?” The biggest of the two stepped toward the door.

Damn!

Gus retreated down the hall, leaving the door open. Boots thumped behind him. He flattened himself against the wall. The guardsman stepped on the tail of his cloak as he passed. Gus turned back to the master bedroom. The second guardsman stood in the doorway, peering down the hall. “Anything?”

“I’ll search the kids’ rooms,” the big man answered. “You keep watch in there. Those gypsies are bound to make a move.” He drew a dagger from his side and disappeared into the first door.

The other guardsman, a man with a blocky head and broad chin, shrugged, disappeared into the master bedroom, and shut the door behind him. Gus stood alone in the hall. I told Rose they’d see us coming from a mile away. I shouldn’t have let the Mysterium get involved! He looked at the door of the master bedroom, then the door leading back out onto the balcony. At least I know Rose hasn’t double-crossed me—yet.

If Giovani’s guards are focused on this area, then maybe he’s hiding something in this part of the house. A safe? A strongbox?

Augustus waited.

The big guardsman left the daughter’s room, brushed past Gus, and entered the room of Giovani’s son. Augustus moved to the master bedroom and pushed the door open. “Nico?” the shorter man called from within. The big man crossed the hall. “Did you open the door, Nico?”

“No,” the big man answered.

“Did you see anybody?” the little man asked.

“There’s nobody,” Nico said. “Stop acting like such a damned coward. This place isn’t haunted, shrimp!”

“Did you hear what Julia told everybody? She saw Rocco standing by the well—right where Giuseppe killed him last year. Julia isn’t the type to pack tales around—especially tales that paint our kind master as a cruel man. And what about that time Mateo saw his brother, Dante, in the kitchen? Are you going to call Mateo a liar?”

“I’ve seen nothing,” the big man replied, peering down at his comrade.

Shrimp chortled, then whipped his nose with his right thumb. “You are a foul man, Nico.”

Can I spook them into a different part of the house?

Gus leaped across the room in one great bound, carried by his magical cloak. A tapestry hung from the wall. It showed a red hawk flying above the sea. Augustus drew his dagger and slashed its bindings.

The tapestry fell to the floor.

“What. The. Fuck?” Shrimp stepped toward the door.

“Don’t you dare scream!” Nico barked at the small man. Despite his facade, the big man trembled more than the shrimp. “Don’t embarrass Giovani in front of his guests.”

“I think I’ll just stand in the hall,” Shrimp said. “If that’s okay with you? I’ll be right outside.” Shrimp stepped out of the room. He pulled the door shut. Nico looked at the fallen tapestry and then scanned the room. At last, his eyes fell on the door separating him from his partner.

He’ll crack.

Augustus moved to the door and pulled it open.

Shrimp peered directly through Augustus–still invisible–and met the eyes of his much bigger counterpart. Both men looked bewildered.

Nico looked around the room. “Did you–?”

“No,” Shrimp said.

The big guard must have considered the ghost a better guardian than himself, for he slowly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Gus began under the bed, then along the walls, searching every stone and sconce. Near the sofa, he peered beneath, then pulled up the bear rug. Moving his hands along the hearth, Gus discovered a loose brick. He wiggled it free, sending bits of plaster clattering to the floor. Augustus swept them up and threw them into the ash-strewn hearth.

A little satchel sat within a hollowed-out portion of brick.

Augustus plucked it out and opened it.

Diamonds, sapphires, rubies. Useless. No one would be stupid enough to buy Giovani’s stolen gems! We need circlings.

There must be a strongbox somewhere!

He stuffed the satchel of gemstones back into the hollow brick and slotted it into the hearth. Augustus renewed his search, starting with the bedside table, where he counted a few spare coppers. He left them. Next, he looked behind every painting on each wall.

Where is it?