Naereni
The Rats grouped together as Karsien called a meeting, each of us taking a position around the old map of Fiachra. Wade gave Karsien a brief overview of whatever he’d found, leaving the finer details to our leader.
Karsien narrowed his eyes behind his mask, observing a spot on the map.
I’d only seen his face beneath the mask once.
“For those who are unaware,” Karsien said, clearly indicating Toren, “We’ve been scouting out a supply warehouse for a while now. It’s owned by a lesser-known Blood called the Ilasons.” Our leader retrieved a stack of paper from the table, holding it up. “They have an unfortunate habit of withholding pay from their unadorned employees. Unfortunately for them, that little tendency is going to cost them far more than they ever saved from their pay cuts.”
Karsien’s grin was savage.
I ruminated a bit over Hofal’s words from a few minutes earlier. The man had a way with his stories and comforts, but I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t have the time to set my ‘little blocks.’ Each day blithe continued to poison the lives of everybody I knew.
Karsien started going over the plan for the infiltration, drawing me from my introspection. It was standard procedure and something I had reviewed a dozen times before. Instead of tuning into our leader, I covertly measured our new member.
Toren was a good mage, but he’d make for a poor thief. He didn’t even look over the people he was with, checking the value of their goods. Being a good thief wasn’t just about how fast and quiet you were like Kars told him. It was about seeing what was valuable.
Part of me was thankful for the help he’d given us a week ago. While Hofal and I would’ve gotten out of our predicament just fine because of our trump card, his assistance ensured it.
The other part of me wondered why Karsien had invited the boy in so easily. He got a stellar recommendation from Auntie Greahd, true, but that didn’t mean we let him into the Cistern on the same day he joined. Karsien rarely trusted me like he ought to. I was second-in-command, according to him. But he hadn’t even briefed me on Toren’s admittance into our band.
That might’ve been why I went so hard on him in our spar.
I settled myself. I shouldn’t question Karsien. My mentor knew best about these kinds of things.
“--And so Toren will be joining you on your mission,” Karsien finished saying, startling me to attention.
“What was that?” I asked, unsure.
“Toren will be joining you and Hofal as an additional backup,” Karsien repeated. “The Bloods are on high alert for us already, as evidenced by their attempt to capture you a week ago. Another fighting mage will be reassuring.”
I shoved down a vehement refusal. It had taken a month to get Karsien to let me on a job, and only after I had proven myself. I had earned that trust.
“But he’s only just joined,” I said instead, trying to work from a logical angle. “Wouldn’t it make sense for Toren to get some more practice in first before attempting this?”
“He won’t be there to help you steal,” Karsien elaborated. “But to protect. You’re right that he doesn’t have enough experience with stealing to make a difference.”
“And I can muffle your steps,” Toren said from the side. “I might not be that great at picking locks, but if you’ll never make a note with me nearby.” He raised a foot, then brought it down hard on the bricks. The impact made no sound.
Another rune? I thought, incredulous. How many did he have?
I’d seen Toren use a fireball, telekinesis, coat his arms in fire, some sort of sound explosion, body strengthening, a shield over his arms, and now this. It was astounding.
Hofal patted me on the shoulder, seeming to understand my unease. The man silently puffed a ring of smoke, content to follow along. I wished I could be as confident as he was.
“Fine,” I said, trying and failing to restrain a bit of irritation. “But you’ll follow my orders while we’re out, alright?” I said, leveling the young mage with a stare.
He looked disconcerted by my response but nodded anyway.
A map of the warehouse and surrounding area was laid out on the table, with several key points of interest highlighted. There were several points marked where infiltration would be possible, with clear routes to the main office of the warehouse. Wade’s rats had scouted the place thoroughly, leaving us with a clear picture of our objective.
Apparently, one of the warehouse’s more competent mages was currently off work sick, something Wade had learned before coming here for the night. I smiled at our sentry as Karsien went over what he’d uncovered. He returned the smile hesitantly, then quickly returned his attention to the map. Too quickly.
One day, I’ll make you keep that smile trained on me, I thought, a bit smug that I could make him so nervous, but also a bit annoyed.
I returned my attention to the plan. It was simple: get in, grab the goods, get out. We had a reliable schedule for guard patrols as well. If we were careful, we wouldn’t ever be spotted.
I tapped my finger against my arm. It was never that simple.
—
Toren, Hofal, and I moved through the sewers, taking predetermined twists and turns toward an eventual maintenance access hole. I took the lead, sure in my steps. We each wore our Rat masks.
I could hear Toren taking measured breaths through his nose behind me. The stench of the sewers was a chore to adapt to, but he was managing.
I spotted a musk crab scuttling on some debris in the water. Its eyes, which were raised on stalks, were barely visible in the dark. The little creature scuttled past us, getting a bit too close to Toren.
The paranoid man speared it with his dagger before it could get any closer. It writhed on the blade, eight-shelled limbs struggling weakly on the edge of his steel.
“You didn’t need to kill it,” I said sourly. I liked those little crustaceans. They made the sewers more lively. Added some spice to the monotony.
“Anything with more than four legs doesn’t deserve to exist,” Toren said darkly. “It’s part of my religion.”
“Don’t you worship the Vritra?” I asked. “I don’t think the Doctrination has any Doctrines against crustaceans,” I said it as a joke, but I hadn’t gone to a temple since I was really, really young. For all I knew, the Vritra could have a Doctrine against crabs. Were there crab asura in Epheotus?
The body of the musk crab, which had eventually gone still, vanished with a flash of light. Toren had clearly stored it in his dimension ring. “Basilisks don’t have legs in their asuran form,” the young mage replied. “I think they should be offended by something having eight.”
“If they don’t,” Hofal piped in, “You could try and become a Vicar and petition our Sovereigns to add some laws against crabs,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “You already have an old vicar’s mask. You look the part.”
“I do?” Toren said, sounding confused. “You mean the iron mask I wore before this one? I thought it was just an old antique.”
“It’s not a simple antique,” Hofal replied. “The design is not as well known as it should be. Those iron masks were popular amongst the clergy before High Vicar Varadoth standardized the vicar’s garb.”
I listened in, curious. The Vicars were the priests who preached for the Vritra Doctrination. Most had Vritra ancestry, but I was fuzzy on the details. I hadn’t attended a worship service in over a decade and a half, which made me offer a silent prayer of apology to the Sovereigns. I hoped that was enough.
Hofal naturally knew more about this, considering his background.
Toren muttered something I couldn’t hear. “Are you a dedicated faithful?” he asked, nodding to Hofal. “You seem to know a good bit about the Doctrination. More than I do, it seems.”
“In the long-gone days of my youth, I was more pious,” he replied. “I worship the Vritra as much as any man should, though. They saved us from our mortal squalor, after all, granting us magic and all that. But I can’t make it to a temple every week.”
The conversation dropped off after that, but Toren didn’t seem content to let the quiet rest. “So, Naereni,” he started, “What exactly does it mean that you’re the ‘Young Rat?’” he asked, clearly curious. “If Karsien is the ‘Rat,’ does that make you his student, or something?”
Or something. Karsien was supposed to be teaching me, but that had stalled in the past few months, much to my chagrin. With too many duties and work getting in the way, my mentor kept me in the dark.
“That, and I’m the official second-in-command for the Rats as a whole,” I replied. “If you’ve got a problem and Karsien isn’t there, I’m your go-to.” I felt a slight smirk creep across my features, banishing the bit of irritation that I felt remembering my delayed training. “I get to tell you what to do, Toren.”
He snorted. “Don’t think you can make me lick your boots, ‘Young Rat,’” he shot back chidingly.
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“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that,” I said slyly, turning over my shoulder to look Toren in the eye. “Maybe I’ll just make you clean the Cistern’s bathroom for the next month.”
I expected more of a reaction, but Toren actually seemed to be thinking it over. Before he could respond, we reached our destination, an old service ladder that was rusting and worn, creeping down the side of the sewer walls like a descending vine.
“We’re here,” I said, alerting the two behind me. I hopped up the ladder, stealthily opening the manhole far above. Peering each way down the street, I gave the all-clear. We piled out of the sewer quickly and quietly, then ducked into a nearby alleyway.
Hofal summoned a familiar artifact from his dimension rune, using it to freeze the sticking sewage on his boots. It rotated around our group before being handed back to the shield.
Finally ready for action, I rolled my neck. We were in South Fiachra now, not far from the main mouth of the Sehz. The warehouse we were aiming for sat along the shoreline of the mighty river, Fiachra’s gateway to the wider continent.
“Alright, here’s the plan,” I whispered, the looming boxy warehouse behind me. “Toren and I will go in the top window, keeping to the scaffolding for stealth. Hofal, you’ll enter from below, keeping an exit clear for us. You’ll be our cover for any unexpected incidents at our backs.”
We’d gone over this at the hideout already, but it never hurt to repeat the plan. I could only hope that Toren would be able to match our stealth.
I gestured to Toren, who followed after me. I increased my speed as I gracefully approached the warehouse, using one of my marks to suffuse my muscles with mana. I leapt a good ten feet in the air, conjuring small picks of ice in my hands. Before I could impact the wall, I rammed one of the small icicles into the bricks, feeling it lodge there. Then I jumped another ten feet, catching the lip of one of the windows.
Hofal darted to a side entrance of the warehouse, covertly messing with the lock. He’d have it open soon.
I peered inside the window. The warehouse was dark inside, but flickering lantern light and low mana-powered artifacts spread a consistent luminescence across the large area. I could spot a dozen crates inside, but I didn’t have any sort of spellform to enhance my vision further. I thought there might have been some sort of sigil painted on the crates, but I couldn’t tell.
A bit of white mana flared on the edge of the window. Toren soared up to my side, having used his telekinesis to anchor himself to the wall as he jumped.
“There isn’t anyone patrolling over the scaffolding,” I whispered to the newest Rat, peering back through the misty pane of glass. “We’re going to get in now.”
Toren spared a glance through the glass himself, his attention zeroing onto the warehouse floor. “Those boxes have the crest of Blood Joan painted on them,” he said, his eyes narrowing behind his mask.
He could see that well? I thought. Vision enhancement, then? Another spellform, or a different application of one he already showed?
“Don’t let yourself get sidetracked,” I chided, knowing the bone the young man had to pick with the family. I could respect that vengeance, but I wouldn’t allow him to compromise our mission for it. “We’re here for one thing, and those crates are not part of our heist.”
Toren shook his head, seemingly banishing those thoughts. “Of course,” he said, though I wasn’t sure if he had truly removed them from his mind. “I’ll follow your lead,” he reiterated.
I conjured another ice dagger, but this time focused intently on the edge as it formed. I focused my desire through my crest, willing the blade to be sharp. Sharper than anything else.
The knife settled into my hand, the way it fit into my palm a familiar reassurance. Without wasting a second, I began to pull the edge along the panes of the wind, tracing a wide, circular outline. This blade I had formed was extremely brittle, so I had to work cautiously. Toren kept an eye on our surroundings, making sure we weren’t surprised as I continued my work.
Soon enough, I had carved an oval through the glass. With a hesitant push, a thin section of glass popped out, almost falling to the ground below.
I caught it before that could happen, gently setting it aside. After making sure the coast was clear once more, I slipped through the thin opening into the warehouse. Toren followed after but with noticeably more difficulty. He wasn’t as lithe as I was, after all.
A network of metal walkways hung over the warehouse, allowing men and women to traverse and observe the goings-on below. They also provided amazing vantage points and opportunities for stealth, which I exploited mercilessly. Toren and I followed the predetermined path Wade had outlined for us, avoiding several snoozing guards along the way.
The Rats had swiped some of Blood Ilason’s gold once before, and the security was just as lax the last time, too. I chuckled to myself inwardly as I glided past a guard once he passed our intersection.
Toren suddenly laid a hand on my shoulder, gesturing behind us. My eyes widened as I saw what he was gesturing to: a few men were trailing along the walkway from where we had come. They hadn’t noticed us yet, but it would only take a glance.
Thinking fast, I dropped over the side of the walkway. Conjuring a tool of ice in my hands, I used a construct with a hook-shaped end to latch onto the underside of the scaffolding. I pulled my legs up, planting them on the underside of the metal. My heart beat in my chest as Toren scrambled off the side as well, his hands glowing with telekinetic power. The mage suctioned his hands to the bottom of the walkway. He hung next to me, feet dangling and strangely managing to keep himself anchored to the bottom of the platform by just his palms. The act clearly strained his magic if his slight frown of concentration gave anything away.
The footsteps of the guards echoed closer, thumping in time with my heartbeat. They finally reached our hiding place, the echo of boots on metal continuing on overhead.
“--think Blood Ilason will actually ship this?” A guard said in a low tone, but audible from where we were. His clothes weren’t that expensive, but I spied a flash from a bangle around his wrist that was probably worth a pretty penny. The other guards halted in place, clearly ready to start up a conversation about this. They stopped right over the top of us.
“Don’t be foolish, Chem! It’ll make them money. No way they don’t sell the goods.”
I looked up through the grate-like mesh of the walkway, watching the guards with a rising sense of terror. One of their boots was just to the side of my face. I could see one of the men hadn’t shaved in days if the light patchy stubble on his chin was anything to go by. He had a nice buttoned coat, probably bought in West Fiachra. He wasn’t looking down.
“Aye, maybe, but with all that the Joans have gone through? It’d be foolish to keep doing business with’em! The Ilasons should back out already,” he said.
“And what do you know of Blood politics?” another scoffed. “You’re a third son of an unknown Blood!”
“I know enough about the world, Kan!” the one called Chem spat back, clearly antagonized by the former. “Besides, it isn’t good for reputation, selling what the Ilasons sell. Once Blood Joan crashes, their business will be dug up. And the Ilasons will lose a lot of face from having worked along!”
I met Toren’s eyes as he dangled from his palms. A bead of sweat was running down his cheek where the mask ended, and I knew from the light in his eyes that he couldn’t maintain his hang for much longer. He’d swing up there and beat those men senseless if he had to.
He’s not a thief, I remembered. He’s a warrior.
My heart pounded as the men continued to bicker, but a second later they began to walk away. Their little argument receded with their footsteps. I waited another few seconds, making sure the men were out of sight, then swung back over the railing.
Toren joined me a second later, shaking out his arms. I didn’t know how he was feeling, but my arms burned where I held the ice hooks.
“Come on,” I mouthed, nodding toward a door nearby. That was our target: the walkways converged on this small room that jutted over the warehouse, providing the overseers a good view from above of all their minion’s work.
We scuttled toward the door, nervous about any more patrols. I knelt down before the door, coalescing two small utensils of ice. I began to quickly pick the lock, fiddling with the tumblers inside.
There! The final pin latched into place, and the door clicked open. I turned the doorknob, opening the door silently.
I was almost immediately greeted with a club to the head. Toren stepped in, grabbing at a wooden bat as it nearly clipped my skull. I jumped back in alarm, but Toren surged inward instead. The door swung open fully, revealing a short guard who had tried to beat my head into the ground.
Toren easily disarmed the man, then delivered a solid punch to his stomach. The man keeled over, scrambling away from the mage. He opened his mouth to scream.
No! I thought, worry rising in my chest as I dashed forward. We couldn’t let him make a sound. If anybody was alerted that we were here, the operation would be over before it even began!
The man tried to scream. He tried. His chest moved as if he should be exhaling air, and no doubt sound, but nothing came out. That made him even more terrified, his eyes darting about.
I grabbed the man before he could scramble away, maneuvering him into a chokehold. My forearm pressed against his neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. The man struggled for a few moments, but stood no chance against my body when it was strengthened with mana.
He slumped shortly afterward, unconscious. I let him drop to the ground quietly.
I peered over at Toren, who was lowering his hand. The man had cut off the sounds this guard would have been making, saving the operation.
“Thank you,” I whispered, confident it was safe to speak now that the guard was down.
“No problem,” Toren said back, pulling the door behind us closed. It locked again with a click. “I didn’t think there would be anyone in here,” he said, referencing the guard slumped on the floor. I withdrew a bit of rope from my dimension rune, using it to bind his hands and stuff his mouth. Even if he woke up sometime soon, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“It makes sense,” I replied. “The mage that usually guards this room is sick today, but that doesn’t mean there would be no guard at all. He’s probably a last-minute replacement.”
Once I was done securing the guard, I stood up, looking over the room. It was decorated rather lavishly for what I guessed was a warehouse supervisor’s headquarters. Spread out over a large table were several papers, but the real prize was behind a small door in the corner.
The safe was sculpted from the structural supports with metal magic, something that was common to prevent theft. Safes like these seemed to grow out of the building itself. This was intentional: a thief could pull anything they wanted into their dimension ring if it was large enough, but if their target was literally a part of the building, it would be exceedingly difficult to store the box. The more advanced safebox designs actively disrupted a dimension ring’s use instead, meaning it was impossible to pull into the small storage. Those were more difficult to crack, and far, far more expensive. Luckily, I only had to deal with the budget version.
The lock for the safe was keyed to a certain mana signature instead of a more common tumbler system.
I withdrew a special tool from my dimension ring. It looked like a dull sphere with grooves along the side, but it was in fact a tuning artifact. Holding it up to the locking mechanism of the safe, I synchronized the two with my mana.
Now came the tricky part. Mana locks that needed unique mana signatures acted a lot like normal pin locks, anyway. A certain roughness in a person’s mana signature would perfectly fit a predetermined groove. The sharp essence of a mage’s affinity might allow another piece to slide into place. A dozen of these interlocking pieces worked together to recognize a mage’s mana signature, at least roughly.
I worked through the metaphysical lock, probing with my mana to nudge certain parts either which way. Time slipped away as I maneuvered around each puzzle piece, each part that bound into place sending a thrill through me. And finally, I cracked the code.
It took five minutes before I finally unlocked the thing, which was painfully long. The door of the safe swung open, revealing a small stack of jewels and papers. I pulled both into my dimension ring, then swung the safe shut once more. Mission accomplished.
I stood, stretching out the aches in my back from standing still for so long. “We’ve got the goods,” I said, turning around. “Let’s get out of here.”
But Toren didn’t seem to hear me. But he was leaning over the papers that were spread on the large table, anger present in his features. His teeth were clenched, a muscle visibly rippling along his sharp jawline. He tapped a finger as he scoured over the papers, the contents clearly souring his mood.
He looked up as I approached warily. “Naereni,” he whispered. “You’ll want to read this.”