Toren Daen
“Do you know what makes or breaks a heist?” Karsien asked, leisurely walking down the streets of East Fiachra. He wasn’t wearing his Rat ensemble, but a simple half-mask covering his forehead and eyes. “And I don’t mean getting caught or failing to lay out a contingency plan. Tell me, Toren, the essence of thievery.”
We were touring the northern parts of the district. There was a dampness to every surface that seemed to seep into the heart of the suburb. The small coating of snow from a few days ago had begun to melt, making the dirt roads muddy and wet. Small orange firelights burned within shuttered windows.
A few toughs around an alleyway stared Karsien and me down, watching us with dark expressions as we moved by. Those men were fighters.
“Wouldn’t it be the element of surprise?” I asked, unsure. “A plan to steal something will never work if it's expected.”
Karsien tisked. ”Not quite,” he said, turning down an alleyway. Sensing something behind us, I shifted my stance and glanced behind me. Was it the toughs from before? “You can steal from somebody, even if they’re expecting you all along.”
“That’s because the essence of theft,” Karsien said, drawing my attention back to him, “Is misdirection.”
He was twirling a dagger in his hand, deftly whirling the steel through his fingers. A very familiar dagger. I squawked in outrage, grabbing at my belt. Sure enough, my weapon was gone. The man had swiped it in the split second I had looked behind me!
“How?” I said, baffled. There was a good four feet between us, and I had only looked away for a moment!
Just that instant, the ruffians I had noticed earlier crowded into the mouth of the alleyway. There were five of them, each tall and strong. There wasn’t much meat on their bones, probably from lack of food. But they were imposing and held a palpable bloodlust.
“Looks like we’ve got a few new neighbors in town,” the lead man said. There were only a few hairs on his head, which were weathered and worn. He was missing more than a few teeth. “How about we show them the ropes?”
I thrust my hand to Karsien, my palm open. “Give that back,” I said, ignoring the men. I spent good money on that knife and had grown attached to it in the past month. “You’ve proven your point.”
The ruffians snickered. “They think we’re playing about, don’t they? How’s about we show them why they shouldn’t ignore us?” the lead man said, nudging his fellows.
“Touchy about your things, are we?” Karsien chided me, tossing the dagger in the air. Sensing an opportunity, I pulled on it with a flare of white telekinesis, causing it to lurch toward me. I caught it by the handle, deftly sheathing the weapon once more.
At the sight of my obvious magic, the men trying to box us in suddenly looked very, very unsure.
Karsien shook his head. “You’ve ruined half the fun already, Toren,” he said with a sigh. “Now they’ll run.”
Sure enough, the men turned, shuffling to get away from two people who were obviously mages. They shouted apologies as they bolted out of the alleyway, scrambling to get away from us.
Karsien whistled. “That was faster than expected.” I raised a brow, crossing my arms in irritation. The Rat ignored me, continuing on. “But as I said, the art of thievery is misdirection.”
A form materialized out of mist at his feet, growing from the ground like a sprout. In a second, a mirror image of Karsien stood by his side. The clone dropped a pouch into the original’s hand, then gave a deep bow. The illusory form of mist dispersed into the alleyway, its task complete.
So the clones did have a physical presence.
Karsien hefted the bag in front of me. “Those bandits were entirely focused on the two of us. The fools didn’t even consider they might be the ones getting robbed.” He tilted his head. “If only they didn’t let themselves be drawn into a trap.”
Karsien tossed the pouch to me, which I caught with one hand. Inside were a few copper marks. It wasn’t that much money.
“First rule of theft: wherever somebody isn’t looking is where they can be stolen from,” he said cheerily.
I frowned at the pouch. “You told me you only stole from wealthy Bloods.”
Karsien rolled his eyes, dismissing my concerns. “The Rats as a whole only work together to steal from those up above. What each of us does on our own time could be something entirely different,” he continued. “Besides, those men would’ve been entirely content leaving our bodies in this alley if they could manage it.”
I sighed.
—
We continued to walk for the next few hours, attracting the attention of men who believed they could rob us. It didn’t take nearly as long as I expected to get the hang of snagging coin purses.
The confidence of the assailants helped. For all they knew, Karsien and I were a couple of well-dressed merchants or tourists. Our clothes weren’t of the best quality, but they were clean. That made us stand out like a spot of white amidst a sea of black.
My telekinetic pushes and pulls were amazing for covertly snatching items off my targets. I had to focus a lot more on fine control. I hadn’t tried to dim the light of mana that my crest emitted before this, but it was possible if I concentrated hard enough. I actually managed to untie a man’s rope belt as he tried to approach with a light tug of my power.
Part of me felt guilty over taking the coins from my unwitting victims, but the other part of me realized that there was no way this money was earned honestly. How many other poor fools got beaten in an alleyway for these small discs of copper?
The money felt dirty. By the time I was done, I was half tempted to leave all the coins in an alley somewhere. But the second part of my afternoon involved introducing me to one of the Rat’s covert buyers. It was an older man who exchanged the goods for food and supplies, which the people of East Fiachra needed desperately.
Once the trade was done, I was left with a dozen loaves of bread.
It was nearing late afternoon now. Karsien strolled out of the building, which was closer to the East Fiachra Healer’s Guild than I was comfortable with. I was wearing a mask now, hoping against hope I wouldn’t be spotted by anybody who might report back to Blood Joan.
“So I’ve got all this food,” I said, storing a few of the loaves in my dimension ring. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough space for everything. “But what are we going to do with it?”
Karsien seemed more somber now. “Come on, Toren. It’s time you see the fruits of your labor.” He leaped up onto the rooftops, beckoning me to follow. It wasn’t easy running about with my hands full of bread, but I managed to make do. My senses were on high alert now, though: Blood Joan had sent out a kill order for me. I had been hiding my more distinguishing features like my hair and chain tattoo, so I shouldn’t be easy to track down.
But you never knew.
I recognized the area we moved to as the suburb I had visited with Wade last night. Sure enough, Karsien skidded to a halt, beckoning me over. We were near Greahd’s apartment building.
“I’ll be needing those loaves of bread, now,” he said. I obliged, handing him what I had in my arms. With a moment of concentration, I drew the rest from my dimension ring as well. A couple of clones of mist popped into existence next to Karsien, taking a few of the loaves with them. Then they bounded off the roof, zipping toward Greahd’s apartment. Looking between the clones and the leader of the Rats, I still couldn’t tell the difference between them.
“What are they doing?” I asked. “Delivering it to Greahd, I’m guessing?”
Karsien nodded, the original crouching leisurely on the roof’s edge. “That they are. We need to be covert with our support, or else the Bloods will have an excuse to take it all away,” he said with a suppressed sneer. The intensity with which he uttered those words vanished a moment later, dispersing like the mist he was so proud of. I wondered if I had imagined it.
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Greahd exited her apartment, hauling a small wagon behind her. Inside it was an old cast-iron pot, all the loaves of bread, and a bunch of other items I couldn’t recognize. She pulled it with purpose, a measure to her step that I could feel even from a rooftop yards away. Her boots squelched in the muddy streets, but that didn’t deter her in the slightest.
Karsien and I trailed from the rooftop, watching her as she tugged her load along. After a short while, a few men and women began to fall in step behind her. A few of them showed the telltale signs of blithe addiction, the constant use of the drug making their fingernails fall off and their skin develop splotches of greenish-yellow taint.
Remembering the events of earlier today, I began to move. If those people wanted to rob Greahd, they’d face my magic. I stood up, ready to jump down and intervene.
“Don’t,” Karsien interjected, causing me to hesitate. “They aren’t going to rob her. Look more closely.”
I looked down at the men and women following Greahd. More and more joined as the seconds ticked on, and I realized after a while that they weren’t following her to steal from her. They followed her in the same way a drum major led a marching band.
After a while, Greahd reached a large intersection. A canal ran along its edge, something that surprised me. While the rest of the city was interspersed and crisscrossed with waterways, East Fiachra was empty of them. The few I had seen were dried up, with no water rushing along. This singular conduit, however, carried water eastward.
Greahd began to unpack near the edge of the water. The people who had been following her moved in, helping her unload all that was in her wagon. A few other people joined them with pots in their hands Soon, I could make out what they were doing.
“They’re making a cookfire,” I said with surprise. A few large cast iron pots were arrayed in a circle, all filled with water from the nearby canal. Men were setting small cuts of firewood beneath each one, working together to light fires. A woman directed some leaner men in miscellaneous tasks, clearly setting up some sort of gathering.
“It’s more than that,” Karsien said as a few of the fires finally lit. The people below began to mix ingredients from Greahd’s cart into the pots, mixing and stirring to make some kind of stew. Chatter and noise grew from below, drawing many more to the growing fires. “If there’s anything you learn today, it should be this. There are many different kinds of theft.”
People lined up for the stew, laughing and conversing with those nearby in line. With my mana-enhanced senses, I could smell the brew from here. It was thick and hearty, clearly a meat stew of some sort. I found myself involuntarily salivating.
Bowls of the broth were passed out to those in line along with a serving of bread. After the first wave was served, Greahd picked up her lute. The men and women cheered her as she began to play, her normally reserved and fidgety nature dissolving under the confidence of her voice.
“The Company of the Rat takes wealth. We steal coins and jewelry, pulling them from under the noses of those who think themselves our betters,” Karsien said, watching as some of the men began to dance to the tune. The sound of raucous laughter echoed into the air. “But the Bloods of Fiachra? They take something from these people greater than we ever could.” He gestured to the decrepit buildings all around us. “They take their hope.”
The sun was setting now. The day was overcast and cloudy, and a light drizzle was in the air. Karsien stood, looking down at the dancing men. The obscuring mist that wrapped around him was invisible in the rain. “So we steal their hope back for them,” he said at last.
—
I was practicing my telekinesis later that evening; a bowl of stew emptied nearby. The rain outside had picked up, and some of the water was drizzling through the Cistern’s skylight. The water followed a clearly preordained path, draining away into the sewers. Naereni was talking with Karsien a ways away, focused on the planning map on the edge of the main room. Hofal was polishing a tobacco pipe, periodically looking at it to make sure the shine reflected his face.
I was trying to use three telekinetic pushes at once. It was surprisingly difficult: I needed to split my mind in a way that took extreme focus at the start. I was reminded of when I first started learning to drive a manual transmission, and how I needed to sync the movement of pressing in the clutch and shifting the gears. Your brain initially thought through each and every step, trying to forcefully rationalize what was better done by instinct.
My range of telekinesis had also increased. When I started, I could only affect things within a fifteen-foot radius of myself. Now it was closer to twenty feet. The influence I could exert over objects that far out was barely worth noting, however: the force I could use was exponentially greater the closer it was to my body.
I had two telekinetic pushes lightly pressing against the wall I was facing. They weren’t enough to move me, only a pound or two of force each. But the trouble was adding another push.
Whenever I tried to shift my focus to add another push, the other spells would waver from my lack of attention. I could feel the rune on my back offloading some of that attention, but there was still a minimum needed to maintain the effect. I ironed out my focus as the second push flickered from my drifting thoughts.
A third flare of white light slowly brightened on another spot of the wall, the effort of my extreme focus causing me tunnel vision. Slowly but surely, it began to press against the wall as well. The first push started to waver this time, but I didn’t relent.
Eventually, the third push stabilized as I adapted to the sensation. I maintained the effect for half a minute, relishing in the success.
Getting stronger every day, I thought, thinking about my core. I was close to breaking out of the light orange stage, something that delighted me to no end.
I was interrupted by a bedraggled Wade dropping down the ladder. The man had taken the brunt of the rain outside, and the cloak he was wearing clearly didn’t protect him enough. He shivered, wiping the fog away from his glasses.
“Do you need me to light a fire?” I asked, noting how he failed to ward off the chill. The others here: Naereni, Hofal, and Karsien all could strengthen their bodies with mana, the effect of some sort of rune. That helped keep the body warm. But Wade was a sentry, meaning he didn’t have any runes that permitted body strengthening. “You look like you jumped in the Sehz,” I said with a snort.
“That would be nice,” Wade affirmed. I conjured a large fireball, then let it drift over to the sentry. It let off low heat, dancing around the young man in lazy loops.
Hofal finally put the pipe in his mouth, stuffing it with some tobacco. At least I thought it was tobacco. “Could I get a fire, too?” the axe-wielder asked around the pipe.
I rolled my eyes in good-natured annoyance, but sent over a tiny will-o’-wisp to his pipe anyways. Whatever was inside began to burn quickly, eliciting a contented ‘humph’ from the shield.
Wade was looking at the burning pipe with an intrigued expression. “Say, Toren?”
“Yeah?”
“What mage class are you, exactly? You’ve got a bunch of caster spells, but also a few striker spells, too. Which is it?”
I stilled, feeling the eyes of most of the room. Only Hofal seemed to dismiss the question, content as he exhaled a ring of smoke.
“I don’t know what I would be designated as,” I said eventually. “My first rune was telekinesis, which was a Mark of a Caster until I upgraded it to a Crest through mastery. But everything else? I don’t know where it would put me. Maybe a combination of striker and caster?”
None of what I said was untrue. I didn’t think any mortal mage had successfully created a collage of magic types like I had, merging the Dicathian and Alacryan methods so seamlessly. Funnily enough, I was sure my mana shroud would count as a ‘shield spell’ here, too.
“Interesting,” Wade said, shaking off his drenched cloak.
“I’ve only got a couple of runes,” Naereni said sourly. “I’ve got a crest that strengthens my body and reflexes, as well as a mark that lets me do this.” She conjured a small ice cube into her hand, then tossed it toward Wade, who was focused away from her. In a perfect landing, it hit the back of his neck and slid down his shirt. The young sentry yelped, the frozen solid trailing down his back.
Naereni chuckled as Wade cursed. But what Naereni said made me think. “Wade said that most mages that grow up here that get runes just leave,” I said. “What made you stay?” I asked the striker, curious.
She stopped harassing Wade for a moment, who looked very, very bedraggled. She looked somewhat sheepish. “Well, I might’ve left, but I was just really, really good at swiping things. I see something not tied down, not protected, and I just get this… itch. They don’t have jobs for that anywhere, so I didn’t go.” She shrugged. “Besides, when Karsien gets down to teaching me some more, I’ll be able to do some good.”
She was silent for a moment as she stared at the fire. “And, one day, I want to get rid of the blithe epidemic around here. I’ve seen good people die to that stuff. They just… whither away, into a shell of what they used to be. Like a block of ice melting, leaving nothing left. Never got hooked myself because of that.” The young woman was silent. “I watched it take my pops. He wasn’t a good man, but he was better than most ‘round here. Only hit me sometimes, and only when I was bad.”
The room was quiet for a long time. Each person seemed to be thinking about what Naereni had just said, coming to their own terms with it.
“You know,” Hofal said, setting down his pipe, “When I was young, I watched a temple to the Vritra Doctrination being built in the outskirts of Etril. Mages called up stone in little blocks, then sent each one off to nearby strikers with enhanced strength, who’d cart the stone to who-knows-where. Then they’d slowly pile each brick up, making the temple bit by bit.” The man tapped his wood pipe against the ground. “Me, being a good-for-nothing whippersnapper who didn’t yet know the wonders of cherry tobacco? I watched it from afar, peering down from my mother’s tall apartment. It was all stupid, I thought. Why make a whole bunch of tiny blocks if one of the Scythes could just swoop over and make it all at once? Those people ran about like ants with their work. It all felt very contrived.”
The man had a strange look in his eye as he reminisced. “But as the weeks wore on, the building grew taller and taller. It soared above my home, reaching the sky. And then they added the paint, and the arches, and the domes. The people worked and worked, everybody pitching in to make their worship a reality. And when the steeple was finally set atop the top, my good-for-nothing whippersnapper self had never seen anything more marvelous.”
Naereni was looking at the older shield with something complicated in her eyes.
“The point I hope I’ve gotten across, girl, is that everything important starts with little blocks. They look small, like swiping a trinket off a man’s belt or stealing into his manse, but eventually, they come together in a beautiful structure. You just need time,” the shield finished.
I opened my mouth but closed it again after a moment. Hofal’s story felt strange to me. Could I build up to my grand structure? Was it really possible to lay small bricks over time, slowly reaching for the heavens? Did I have the time to lay my foundations; set my pace?
After a little while, the silence was broken by Wade. “I’m afraid I have to pull you all from your talk. I came down because I got some information recently. Tonight is going to be the best night for our next heist.”