A Simple Job (solo)

[Avari]

Season of Fall, Day 44, 511 AV

A thin sliver of Leth's moon was shining wanly through the misty clouds that scudded across the bruise-purple night sky as Avari strode through the streets of Zeltiva with her head held high and entered the Kelp Bar with a swagger in her step. While some nights were suitable for skulking in the shadows like a common footpad, tonight the Konti was in a mood for company, camaraderie, and tricking people out of their money rather than stealing it from them. These moods came upon her every few weeks with the regularity of the tides shifting with the moon, filling her with the desire to mingle with the travelers and locals and lose herself in the joy of conversation. With a grand gesture, Avari pushed open the door to the unprepossessing bar and slipped off her wide-brimmed hat, revealing her distinctive too-fair hair to everyone inside the bar.

Almost immediately, a few cheerful shouts greeted her arrival. Over the past three years, Avari had made it a habit to stop in at the Kelp Bar at least a half-dozen evenings every season and managed to establish a minor reputation as a middling but enthusiastic gambler, lover of gossip, and occasional palm-reader and fortune-teller. Her fortunes were especially popular, for they always seemed to foretell the subject getting everything they wanted most out of life. She didn't simply predict that everyone would find fame, fortune, and everlasting love like some charlatan, either; she gave each man a fortune as unique and individual as he was, one that rang of his fondest dreams and deepest desires. None of them could know that these "fortunes" were completely fictitious, without a hint of predictive power behind them; they were merely pleasant stories that the Konti wove to catch their fancies and win their confidence and friendship.

For Avari firmly believed that there could be no more valuable friends for a thief in Zeltiva than the sailors and stevedores who labored every day at the city docks. Sailors knew all about trade routes, ship information, and the other cities that did business with Zeltiva, and they had taught her much about which vessels to watch out for, which were leaving port loaded with coin, and which were returning with a bulging hold full of trade goods. Similarly, the stevedores were responsible for measuring, inspecting, and loading the wealth that flowed across Zeltiva's magnificent wooden piers, and many of them could be persuaded to gossip about the rich cargo they handled when they were in their cups. The tidbits that Avari managed to coax out of them during her rowdy evenings at the Kelp Bar often provided her with valuable clues about prime targets to watch, investigate, and rob.

So, she smiled brightly in the sputtering lamplight that illuminated the Kelp Bar and waved hello to a few familiar faces. "Oswell! Alfred! It's good to see your ugly faces again," Avari said laughingly to a squat, blond sailor and a lean, black-haired deckhand sitting at a nearby table. "I do believe it's been at least a season since I last saw you two. Have you been away on a long voyage?"

"We just got back from running the Syliras route," Oswell acknowledged gruffly. "Damned long time on the sea, if you ask me, and not a lot to show for it after all that trouble. I bet you were missin' us, eh?"

"Not a chance! You two are too shrewd for me. I was glad to keep my money where it was for once," Avari replied with a chuckle, seating herself unasked at their table. She sighed wistfully. "I wish I could be so lucky as to live off the riches of the sea like you two and sail off into the horizon every season."

Alfred, the black-haired deckhand, snickered. "Riches of the sea? If it were that rich, why do you think we're always trying to make our fortunes with the dice or betting on wrestling when we've got a bit of shore leave? It's no paradise scrubbing decks every day or swabbing out the cabins, I can tell ya." He squinted at her. "What is it that you do again, exactly? You know, every day, making your living?"

"Surviving," Avari replied succinctly. "Staring at grubby palms in the marketplace when I have to and trying to outwit gamblers like you two when I can."

The two men grinned and relaxed, taking deep swigs from their tankards of oily green kelp beer. Both of them -- and indeed, every man that Avari had ever tried to drink and dice with, she reflected -- had been initially distrustful and uncomfortable around her, not knowing how to address a woman who spoke to them in an easy man-to-man fashion and enjoyed throwing dice or playing cards with such fervor. Her pale hair and skin had made them wary too; they were always suspecting that she was using her Konti powers to see things she shouldn't. It hadn't been until Avari started controlling her bets and winnings carefully, so that she always left the bar with only modest earnings or small losses to dispel any belief in uncanny luck or irrational love for the dice, that they gradually lost their wariness around her and began seeing her as just another gambler.

Now, Alfred put down his tankard with a thud and produced a small leather throwing cup. "Speakin' of which," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "on our trip, I got this fancy new set of dice. From Alvadas, it came. Guaranteed lucky, the man said."

"Lucky my arse," Oswell snorted. "Didn't you lose fifteen silver mizas against Nikoli not two days ago with them?"

"Hush up," Alfred grumbled at him. "I won three golden mizas with 'em five days before that, or don't you remember? Anyway, do you want to see 'em?" he asked Avari.

She nodded eagerly, and the deckhand beamed. Proudly, he tipped the throwing cup and laid six dice onto the rough wooden table between them. Carved in the standard cubic shape with black pips on each face, they appeared to be made out of some worn, light-brown material the color of old ivory.

"Made out of the bones of a wizard," Alfred confided. "That's what the man told me. They've got magic in them, and that's why they're lucky."

The Konti sucked in her breath. She knew only a little about magic and wizards and less about Alvadas, but she was quite sure the merchant who had sold the dice to Alfred had been pulling his leg. Still, the dice looked to be well-made, whatever their original form had been, and they would certainly serve for dicing...and for other uses as well.

"Well, I don't know about that," she said to Alfred, shrugging. "May I take a closer look, though?"

He nodded, and Avari reached out and swooped up the set of dice into her hand, balancing them in her palm as she peered closely at the small cubes. They were lighter in weight than she expected, and the brownish hue of the bone did indicate a certain amount of age. Perhaps she was imagining it, but Avari thought she even discerned a slight musty odor to the dice, though it might only be her imagination or the fact that they had been inside a leather cup for a while. Like a superstitious gambler--or, like a Konti who used dice to scry the future--she closed her hand around the bone dice and closed her eyes for a few moments.

When the dice cupped in her palm had grown warm, Avari focused on a single thought inside her mind. Will I find a worthy source of profit tonight? Yes or no?

She threw the dice and examined the results: six sixes. Perfect harmony and congruity. Yes, the sequence told her, unmistakably.

"Good test throw," Alfred remarked admiringly.

"Yes," Avari answered, beaming with delight. It was a very good throw, indeed.

[Avari]

From there, the encounter turned into a pleasantly dissolute and lively evening of gambling and dice-rolling between the three of them, as well as any acquaintances drawn to the sound of clattering dice and the lure of money for nothing. Almost all of them, except for the one sailor with a hook in place of his right hand who had to throw with his left, were better at tossing the dice than Avari was and knew all the tricks of flicking their wrists, twisting their fingers, and otherwise inducing the dice to land in a favorable configuration. She didn't need them, though, because she always had an idea ahead of time of how the dice would land. They were her tools for fortune-telling, after all, the same way that other Konti used pretty tarot cards or gleaming mirrors. Perhaps her teachers, and certainly Grandmother Eunoe, would be vexed over her rolling the dice to foretell, well, the next fall of the dice, but they weren't here to scold her for it. Here, Avari could do as she pleased.

And what pleased her at this moment was enjoying the unabashed but good-natured greed of the sailors, all while keeping an eye out for the worthy financial prospect that the dice had promised her on her first roll. She listened to their stories of sailing the sea, laughed at their boasts, and paid close heed as they gossiped about ships and sailors arriving and departing. Beneath the hum of conversation, the dice rattled and clattered continuously on the wooden table, and mizas clinked as they were passed from hand to hand amid triumphant gloats and disappointed sighs.

An hour after she sat down at Alfred and Oswell's table, a small hubbub arose at the door to the Kelp Bar. Avari turned to look and spotted a vaguely familiar man with a bristling mustache and a gaudy captain's hat enter the bar amid shouts of greetings from across the bar. She nudged Alfred and glanced inquiringly at the newcomer. A grin crossed the deckhand's face as he looked over at the commotion.

"Aha, that's Captain Farabar of the Golden Jackal, Ari. He just got into port this afternoon," the deckhand told her, while she watched the man in the captain's hat strut proudly through the room. "Remember, he threw six ones against Oswell in a row and swore he'd never play dice with us again?"

Comprehension dawned on Avari's face as she recalled having met this man about a season ago, with a less impressive mustache and far less showy hat. She had touched his hand that evening, she recalled, and learned that his greatest love was his ship, a sleek and maneuverable little saique.

"Why's everyone buying him drinks?" she asked.

Alfred shrugged. "I heard he made a fortune this fall on the Ahnatep run. Somethin' about Zeltivan pine becoming the latest rage at the royal court of Ahnatep, I think? Anyway, everyone knows he's sailed into port with his coin chests loaded with gold and silver, and everyone wants a piece of it. Can you blame 'em?"

"And I heard," put in the leering Oswell from across the table, "that his sailors are flush with money too and spendin' it quick. Rumor has it that his men got so hot and bothered over Eypharian ladies who wouldn't give 'em the time of day that they all headed to the whorehouses and are petchin' the whores bow-legged, haha." Then, seeming to remember Avari's presence, he coughed into his fist and bowed his head in her direction. "Uh, beggin' your pardon, Ari. Forgot we was in, er, mixed company."

"I don't mind," Avari murmured distractedly, her attention fixed on the happily carousing captain at the bar. "I've always wanted to meet an Eypharian. They must be wondrous people."

Then she shook her head rapidly, as if to clear her thoughts. "Well, well-done to Captain Farabar, I dare say," she said, turning her attention back to the bone dice cupped in her hand with an effort. "But let's get back to the dicing!"

She threw the dice across the table. They rolled and rattled about, before coming to a rest and showing six sixes. Gasps rose around the table, and a smile formed on Avari's face. She didn't even pay any attention to the handful of mizas being pushed in her direction, for her thoughts were wholly focused on the promise these dice had made her earlier in the evening and the newly wealthy captain that had walked through the door. Avari knew that the dice were telling her that here was the opportunity for profit that she had asked for.

Abruptly, the Konti rose from her seat, half-heartedly collecting the tiny stack of mizas she had just won. "I believe that shall be it for me, gentlemen," she declared, with a distant note in her voice. "Leave when you're ahead, isn't that the old saying? Good evening to all of you."

A few good-natured groans answered her announcement, but most of them briefly bid her goodbye before turning back to the current dice game in progress. Avari headed toward the doors, only turning back once to look at the mustachioed captain with the extravagant hat still cheerfully downing a tankard of kelp beer at the bar, surrounded by smiling friends. If she was any judge, Captain Farabar would be enjoying a long and lively evening at the Kelp Bar for several hours yet.

Outside, Leth's moon hadn't even reached its apex in the night sky. The cool evening air refreshed her after hours of breathing in the odors of kelp beer fumes and men's sweat, and Avari breathed deeply. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and remembered Alfred's information about the captain returning home with loaded coin chests in his ship's hold. "Everyone wants a piece of it," he had said. "Can you blame them?"

No, Avari could not. Especially not when she was one of those people wanting a piece of the captain's fortune herself. Without even consulting her conscious mind about it, her feet turned eastward toward the docks of Zeltiva, where no doubt the captain's saique was moored with all her treasures. A plan was slowly unfolding in her ever larcenous mind.

[Avari]

Avari's reasoning had been admirably simple: if that sleek little saique of Captain Farabar's had sailed into port this afternoon, it seemed likely that the ship's cargo might still be inside its hold or had just barely begun to be offloaded into delivery wagons. After all, the docks of Zeltiva were an exceptionally busy place, and more often than not there were more ships moored and waiting to be unloaded than there were dock laborers able to handle all the traffic at once, despite their well-trained efficiency. She had noticed that service tended to slow down most noticeably in the evening as the day workers were replaced by the night laborers. If Captain Farabar and his men were truly all in the city by the time the night stevedores started their shifts, there would be no one from the ship to supervise the unloading, and the cargo -- as well as the captain's fabled coin chests -- would wait in the ship's hold until the next day.

Thus, the Konti had been planning to surreptitiously study Captain Farabar's beloved saique while the docks were comparatively quiet, assessing as much of its layout and security as she could from outside. Then, she would return at daybreak, before the day workers came back to the docks, to sneak inside the ship and avail herself of a little of the captain's newfound wealth.

Unfortunately, Avari had underestimated the organization and competence of the dock laborers this time. By the time she arrived at the docks and located the yellow-painted hull of the Golden Jackal tied up at the fourteenth northernmost pier, she got there just in time to watch helplessly as a few tired-looking laborers heaved the last wooden create down the saique's gangplank and placed it carefully on top of a wagon already piled high with other crates and chests. A deep sigh of disappointment escaped the Konti, drowned out by the crack of the wagon driver's whip and the resulting clip-clop of the horses' hooves as they slowly but inexorably pulled the wagon, and the treasure, along the pier and away from Avari.

A sailor in a beribboned and braid-bedecked coat, standing on the deck, waved to the laborers. "Much obliged to you fellows!" he called down to them, his words slurring together slightly. "Remember, that cart there goes to the captain's house, you hear? That cart's special for the captain. Don't forget, or he'll have my head tomorrow!"

Suddenly, Avari was all ears. Did he just say that wagon was for the captain? That entire wagon loaded with dozens of crates and chests, which she was sure were making a faint, enticing jingling noise as the wagon wheels bounced and jolted along the road?

Abandoning her vantage point in front of the Golden Jackal, she turned around and strolled down the wooden pier, trying her best to look aimless and unconcerned by anything to do with ships, wagons, or temptingly valuable cargo. Out of the corner of one eye, though, the Konti observed the progress of the wagon alertly and made sure to keep it in view at all times. Fortunately, because the wagon was so heavily laden with goods, it only moved at a slow crawl, making her surveillance quite easy. The weary-looking driver didn't seem inclined to make his horses hurry, either, only brushing his whip lightly across their backs now and then without any sense of urgency. As the wagon laboriously turned around the corner, Avari picked up her pace and hurried after it at a brisk walk.

For what seemed like hours, the Konti shadowed the slow-moving wagon through the city, carefully keeping her distance and ducking under awnings or staying close to walls whenever possible. In her mind, Avari tried to think herself invisible, to measure her movements so that she became just one more shadow among others. She took care to avert her face from the light and place her feet quietly as well, so that the gleam of her hair or the click of her boot-heels on the paved streets didn't betray her presence. Every now and then, when she felt safe taking her eyes off the wagon, Avari pretended to glance at a shop window or saunter cheerfully along the street, hoping to look a little less obvious about following the wagon through the city.

Despite the plodding progress of the wagon, Avari couldn't restrain a tiny surge of excitement at the familiar, yet unfailingly thrilling experience of being on the hunt again. There was so much promise and anticipation in gauging her opportunities and studying her victim's vulnerabilities, so much tension and energy in making sure no one would see her coming or catch her leaving the scene of the crime. It was an electric feeling, making her eyes dance and her heart beat just a little faster in her chest.

Finally, after making two more left turns and rolling three blocks through a middle-class, genteel-looking neighborhood, the wagon came to the corner of Fifth Street and Caliginous Avenue and stopped. After the constant rattle of the wagon wheels in her ears, the night suddenly felt thunderously silent to Avari. She eased herself into the shadow of another building about half a block away and watched closely.

The wagon driver descended from his perch and knocked at the door of a darkened house. After a few minutes, a light came on at the ground floor and a woman with a huge ring of keys at her waist opened the door. She talked with the driver, and then another man came and helped the driver unload the chests and crates and bring them inside. Even from a distance, Avari could hear the thumps and groans as each crate was laboriously carried through the door and, from the sound of it, up a flight of creaky stairs.

That must be the landlady, then, Avari thought, correctly, as she squinted at the woman with the key-ring, and I suppose good Captain Farabar's lodgings must be upstairs.

In twenty minutes, the wagon had been emptied. Waving goodbye to the landlady and her helper, the driver flicked his whip, and the wagon pulled away from the corner far faster than it had arrived. The door closed, the ground floor light went out, and silence descended on the street corner once more. Only then did Avari feel safe to detach herself from the wall and creep quietly toward the house. She drew up the collar of her cloak and pulled down the brim of her hat, trying to blend into the deepening night.

Slowly, she circled around the building warily, studying the sturdy front door and looking with dismay at the wide street before it. Anyone attempting to pick the lock on it would surely be noticed. Moving in an ever-tightening spiral, the Konti drew closer to the house. Behind it was a narrow, grimy alleyway. She couldn't help smiling when she noticed the back door that opened onto the alley, probably intended for garbage disposal. While the front door was wrought of stout-looking wood and secured with a large lock, this back door looked shabby and flimsy, and its lock was spotted with rust.

There was a tiny, high window smeared with dust beside the door. Standing on her tiptoes, Avari peered inside. Dimly, she saw the top of a rough staircase leading up onto the second floor.

That's all I needed to know, Avari thought, satisfied. She knew the captain would be drinking for hours yet at the Kelp Bar and his landlady was asleep. If she couldn't steal from the captain's coin chests aboard the ship, then she would take a share of his mizas from inside his house instead. All it had taken was a jaunt down a few streets, and all she needed to do now was pick a few simple-looking locks, sneak up some stairs, and unearth the wealth inside the captain's newly-acquired coin chests. It was an opportunity that she couldn't afford to miss.

From inside a pocket of her cloak, she withdrew a small roll of black cloth and unwound it to reveal a set of metal lock-picks, clamps, and skeleton keys, all well-made and lovingly maintained. After a moment's consideration, she selected a long pick with a triangular-shaped tip from its slot and eased it out of its slot.

This would be simple.

[Avari]

Trying to ignore the racing of her heart and the overwhelming instinct to glance over her shoulder every few seconds in case someone passed by, Avari knelt down next to the door. As always, the prospect of picking a lock filled her with an excitement that made the small thrill of following the wagon through the streets or even the joy of discovering an opportunity for profit seem pale and faded in comparison. She had been doing this for three years now, and the excitement was still there. It was a warm, intense, and tremulous feeling that at once sharpened her senses, making her aware of every tiny sound, smell, and sensation in her surroundings, and narrowed her focus, until all that she could think about was the lock before her and the treasure it guarded. When Avari thought about it, which was not often, she guessed that the feeling was not too far from falling in love. But then, of all the larcenous arts, lock-picking had indeed been her first love, so in a way the analogy made sense.

At the moment, though, Avari had no time for analogies or metaphors of love. Sliding the half-diamond pick into the top of the keyhole, she lightly explored the interior of the lock, trying to get a feel for how easily the pins moved around inside the lock. She wrinkled her nose distastefully when she heard the faint squeaking of rusted metal, indicating the lock was well-used but not often maintained.

From her cloth roll of lock-picks, the Konti carefully pulled out an L-shaped torque wrench from its slot and inserted it into the bottom of the keyhole. Nostalgically, she thought for a moment about the bent hairpins she had first used to pick locks, before she had been able to buy her set of lock-picks in a poky little shop in Zeltiva's alleyways. Exerting gentle but steady pressure, she turned the tension wrench in the keyhole. Narrowing her eyes with concentration, Avari used the half-diamond pick in her right hand to rake the pins inside the lock, sticking it all the way into the lock and rapidly pulling it out, bouncing all the pins on its way out. Then she selected another, more sharply angled half-diamond pick from her roll to pick the remaining pins individually. There was only one that hadn't landed on top of the lock cylinder and was still blocking the torque wrench from turning in the keyhole.

She glanced once over her right shoulder and then poked the head of the sharper half-diamond pick into the lock, feeling for the one resistant pin that remained. With a feather-soft touch, she prodded the pin and lifted it infinitesimally, balancing it delicately on the head of the pick. At the same time, she turned the tension wrench a little harder. A second later, Avari heard the tiny but deeply satisfying sound of a soft click as the last pin fell into place.

She turned the tension wrench in the keyhole, and this time it moved smoothly in a quarter-arc. The door opened just a fraction. With no more celebration than a slightly longer exhale, Avari returned her picks into the cloth roll and rose to her feet. She nudged the door wider with her shoulder and tiptoed inside, closing it quietly behind it.

In the darkness, Avari couldn't make out very much of the room's interior, except for a rough set of stairs leading upward to the second-floor landing. Feeling ahead with her foot with every step, to keep from running into or tripping over anything, she moved toward the staircase. The first and fourth steps creaked under her weight, despite her best efforts at stealth. The Konti held her breath, listening for any response, and sighed in relief when she heard nothing. She moved quickly onto the next steps, careful to place her feet as lightly as possible.

Once she was safely upstairs, Avari surveyed the landing with squinted eyes. Across from her was another, rather better-maintained staircase that descended down into the front of the building. Two doors were set into the wall on her left. Which one led to the captain's room?

Tiptoeing toward the closest door, she cursed under her breath as a floorboard groaned softly under her weight. She had always thought stealth would come easily to her, being so small and light, but she mustn't get careless. Easing slowly toward the door, she pressed her ear against it. Almost immediately, she pulled back when she heard a duet of deafening baritone snores and gentler, breathier snoring from inside the room.

Lady 'Lis! That's probably not the captain, Avari thought.

She crept toward the farther door and listened for a moment for someone inside. Not a sound. That was a good sign.

At least, if I get in, no one is going to turn around and scream bloody murder.

Avari knelt to examine the lock that secured the captain's lodgings. It seemed to be better-made than the one on the back door and probably more difficult to pick. The blood pounded in her ears and she could feel her cheeks growing warm as she knelt beside the door and pulled out her cloth roll of lock-picks again for another trial.

Again, she took out the L-shaped torque wrench and inserted it into the bottom of the keyhole. While she applied pressure with the torsion wrench, she selected the steep-sided half-diamond pick again and slid it into the top of the keyhole. A few seconds of exploration told her that this indeed was not as cheap a lock as the one on the back door and would not yield to simple raking. Instead, with delicate touches, she located the first, then the second, then all the subsequent pins that kept the lock from turning without a key. Starting with the first lock, she pried gently at the pin, trying to find where it ended and gauge how much pressure was needed to lift it onto the ledge in the shaft, created by the slightly turned torque wrench in the keyhole.

Sweat broke out on her brow as she fiddled with the first pin, struggling to lift it and keep it wedged in the offset key housing, instead of falling back into place and keeping the lock from coming open. It took precise timing to lift the pin into the correct position with the pick while still maintaining pressure on the torque wrench. Sometimes the pin slipped completely off the head of the pick, and she had to lift it again, trying to keep her fingers from trembling from the constant tension and effort.

After a few minutes, she managed to lift the first pin and drop it into position with a slight click. Now, Avari felt she had a sufficient sense of the minuscule forces of the moving pins and key housing inside the lock and just how much pressure was required each time. The second pin took only half as long as the first one to pick and push properly into the key housing ledge.

Slowly and regularly, she prodded and picked at the remaining pins inside the lock, growing more aware of the tiny scratching and clicking sounds as each pin was manipulated out of place and then into a new position atop the ledge inside the keyhole. It was, she had to admit, a much more painstaking process than simply using a key to enter a room or getting invited inside. But Avari enjoyed that she could open doors and get into places all on her own, without needing help from others. With patience borne of much practice and perfecting, she picked at the pins inside the lock until, finally, all of them had been pushed above the ledge. She gave a last twist with the torque wrench, and the lock sprang open.

Darting quick glances from right to left, as well as down both sets of stairs that led to the landing, Avari gently turned the doorknob and stepped inside the room. She found herself in a plain, simply furnished room with a bed in one corner and an old, dilapidated desk and chair against the opposite wall. A ray of moonlight shone into the room through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the wooden chests that had been dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the worn rag-rug in the center of the floor.

Triumph swelled inside Avari's chest. She turned to close the door very carefully behind her, so that nary a click would betray her presence or her thieving intentions. Here, at her feet, lay the wealth that the worthy Captain Farabar had attained during his latest voyage to Ahnatep and the opportunity for profit that the dice had promised her earlier this evening.

[Avari]

Thankfully, the chests in the captain's room were secured, not with locks, but with ordinary metal hasps merely intended to keep the crate lids closed during travel. Even for someone who enjoyed picking locks as much as Avari did, the prospect of facing three locks in one night in quick succession would have been exhausting to contemplate, let alone perform. It required so much concentration and precision, such a delicate and discerning touch, excellent hearing and sensitivity to pressure, and intimate familiarity with the inner mechanisms of a lock. As a self-taught thief who had had to learn as she went, Avari knew she would need many years, if not a lifetime, of practice to perfect her art. Someday, perhaps, locks would spring open for her at a touch, and breaking and entering would be as easy as putting on her hat, but not today.

At the moment, though, she wouldn't need more than a few minutes to unfasten the simple hasps that fastened the lids of each chest. With a sigh of relief, Avari gently slotted each her half-diamond picks and torque wrench back into the little black cloth roll and tucked the roll into her pocket. She examined the dull metal hasps on the top crate closely, wondering how that captain could be so cavalier about providing security for his coin chests. If she had gotten her hands on a fortune in Ahnatep, Avari would at the very least have found the sturdiest locks she could get to secure them, and she probably wouldn't have let the chests containing her fortune out of her sight.

In her mind, though, Avari pictured the stolid, serious face of Captain Farabar. Everything she had ever heard about him and seen of him for herself suggested he was a steady, dependable, and unspectacular fellow. Frankly, he was dull. If it hadn't been for his recent windfall, she never would've given the man a second thought. Perhaps Farabar was just too unimaginative to think that thieves might come after his newfound wealth. She could easily believe it of the man.

She moved over toward the stack of crates and chests, well aware that, even in the captain's own room, she dared not make too much noise. Any chance sound could lead to discovery. The other renters were sleeping in the next room and the landlady was downstairs, and she'd hate to have to run away after all her hard work following the wagon here and picking the locks to get inside.

Cautiously, she took a firm hold of the two sides of the topmost chest and carefully lifted it, bending her knees in expectation of its considerable weight. To Avari's surprise, though, the chest was much lighter than she'd hoped. Moving very slowly, she shifted the chest to the right and lowered it onto the rag rug, setting it down with the quietest of thuds. She cocked one head toward the door, listening for any sound that someone might have heard her, but heard nothing.

Sitting down on what space was left on the rug, Avari undid the metal hasp that held the lid of the chest closed. Holding her breath in pleasurable anticipation, she lifted the lid and peered inside.

Her expression fell and her fair brows came rushing together as she saw what lay within the chest. No glitter of silver or gold greeted her eyes. Instead, all she could see were the dark, rounded shapes of simple pottery vases and jars lying in a bed of excelsior. The disappointment was overwhelming.

Abruptly, Avari leaped to her feet and flipped open the hasp that secured the second highest crate in the pile. Perhaps that first chest had been an aberration. Surely the others must be full of treasure! She eagerly opened the second crate and met with the same disappointment. This one also held nothing but pottery.

Frustration and anger welled up in her, and several colorful maledictions against Captain Farabar and whomever he had traded with when he visited Ahnatep rose to her lips. Alfred and Oswell said he made a fortune down there, damn it. Where is it? Where IS it?

She shifted the second crate off the pile with the same care as the first one and opened the third chest. Pottery again! Defeated, Avari sank back down onto the rug and settled into a cross-legged position, glumly resting her chin in one hand. She couldn't believe she had expended all this effort, only to find nothing but some pots and jars as her reward. Perhaps the gold and silver were in the other cargo that had been unloaded from the ship. If so, they were doubtless resting in a warehouse somewhere in the city, which would likely be too well-guarded for Avari to penetrate and too cluttered with other goods for her to find Captain Farabar's coin chests. She had been so certain that the captain's special chests and crates would contain his percentage of the spoils that she had gambled all on robbing him tonight. And she had lost.

Perhaps she could still find a way to make this unexpected turn of events in her favor, though! Avari creased her brow. She certainly wasn't about to leave the captain's lodgings empty-handed, not after all her work breaking into them in the first place.

She glanced thoughtfully at the pottery resting in the first chest. For all that they were crafted from humble clay, she noticed how the flowing, soothing shapes and flawless symmetry of the pottery lent each piece a simple grace. In the moonlight, the earthenware vases, jugs, and pots seemed to glow with their own intrinsic beauty, their curving surfaces glimmering with a faint iridescent sheen.

I suppose I could take one piece, or two, Avari mused, studying them. They wouldn't be too hard to conceal. Hmm. You know, Raleaph always likes getting an exotic object or two from faraway places. These might fetch a nice price off him. Of course, I'd have to make a chip or two in a few places and rub them with dirt to make them less recognizable, but I could do it. There's still profit to be made here!

Her mind was racing again with possibilities. She had sold a few trinkets here and there at Treasures of the Sea, enough that Raleaph would welcome her without misgivings if she brought a clay vase or pot from distant, wondrous Eyktol to his shop. Yes, she could do it. It wasn't as exciting as stealing hundreds of mizas in a single night, but it was feasible and lucrative, at least.

Having made up her mind, Avari reached out and lifted a small earthenware vase from the first chest. She hesitated, though, when she felt the surprising weight of the vase. She had expected it to be light and airy, considering its materials, yet the vase felt oddly heavy and weighty in her hands. Curiously, she shook the vase very slightly and heard an answering rattle from within, as if from something stuffed deep inside the vase.

How strange. Something was hidden inside the vase, inside a chest intended for the captain alone. Avari frowned and brought the vase closer for better inspection. What could possibly be inside?

[Avari]

First, the chest had been too lightweight, and now this vase was too heavy. Avari wondered peevishly if anything involved in this topsy-turvy evening was planning to work normally or according to plan. She peered inside the mouth of the vase, but in the darkness of the unlit room, couldn't make out what might be weighing down the vase so noticeably. Her frown deepening, the Konti turned the vase over in her right hand and held out her left hand to catch whatever fell out in her palm.

As the vase tilted downward, Avari gasped when a pellet of something dense, round, and slightly sticky slowly slid out of its mouth and dropped into her hand. She frowned and stared at it in consternation. Was it a piece of clay that had somehow…oh, she didn't know, it had been too long since she had been forced to sit at a potter's wheel…come loose from inside the vase? Or perhaps it had dripped from the potter's hands into the vase, to stay lodged there during the long journey from Ahnatep to Zeltiva?

No, it wasn't clay. With her fingers, she gingerly kneaded the unidentifiable ball and quickly noticed that it had none of clay's softness and malleability. Besides, no lump of clay would stay pliable all this time. The pellet in her hand felt sticky in an unwholesome way, leaving a clinging, waxy residue on the fingers that had kneaded it, but underneath the gluey surface it was hard and compact.

Curiously, Avari brought the pellet closer and sniffed at it. No, it certainly wasn't clay. A heavy, pungent, yet faintly sweet odor wafted toward her nostrils, a scent that reminded her of incense without smelling like any incense she had ever known of before. The odor seemed strangely persistent, lingering in the air and making her feel oddly dizzy. She hastily dropped the pellet back into the vase and waved at the air under her nose to dispel the scent. Only after inhaling a few deep breaths of fresh air did she feel quite recovered again.

Overcome with curiosity, the Konti began investigating the other clay vessels in the chest, wondering if the mysterious pellet in the vase she'd found was some mistake or accident. In a few minutes, each pot and jar in the chest was lying upside-down on the rug. Inside each of them, Avari found two or three more pellets of the same strange, sweet-smelling substance. Most of them appeared to have been wedged quite deeply within their respective containers, as though whoever had put them there had been trying very hard to conceal them and make sure they weren't discovered or able to fall out until the clay vessels were taken out of the chest.

A strange uneasy feeling rose in Avari's heart. Clearly, the first pellet hadn't been an accident at all. What was this stuff? Were the other crates full of them too?

Quickening her pace, Avari turned to the second, third, and fourth crates. With little regard for the time, she rummaged through the piles of excelsior in the chest until she found every earthenware jar, jug, and vase packed in each crate and tipped each of them to see if they contained more pellets. The gestures became almost automatic after her fifth jar: grasp the container firmly, shake it gently, tilt it downward at an angle so that its contents rolled out, collect the pellets that fell, leave the container on the rug, and grab another one, to repeat the process anew. Not one of them failed to yield at least one or two sticky little pellets. In the end, over a dozen clay containers lay on the ground and Avari was staring at a double handful of the small, mysterious, pungent balls.

Avari's fair brows drew together in bewilderment. She could understand if Captain Farabar had ordered a few pieces of lovely handmade pottery to be sent to his lodgings for his personal use. Mementoes of his trip or sentimental gifts -- she could understand that. But for each of them to contain these pellets, all of which had been tightly packed inside to avoid detection, as if they had been specially smuggled from Ahnatep to Zeltiva? It made no sense whatsoever.

Though the room was warm, the Konti shivered. A tinge of the pellets' heavy, sweet smell reached her nose again. If they had been so carefully concealed, then it must be because the people concealing them hadn't wanted the sailors on the Golden Jackal or the dock laborers to know they were there. And the captain had requested these crates himself with enough forcefulness that the sailor on the ship had said, "He'll have my head if he doesn't get those crates." Evidently, the seemingly solid, boring Captain Farabar was involved in this too somehow.

It all smacked of something dangerous and illegal. Avari shook her head. She lived a dangerous enough life already. She wanted no part of whatever trouble could arise from discovering this substance inside the Captain's cargo.

Only then did she notice how faint the moonlight had grown in the room and how high Leth's moon had risen in the sky. The Konti had no idea how many hours she had spent inside this room, upending jars and attempting to figure out the mystery of the pellets they held. If she remained here much longer, the captain might well return from his carousing soon and find out that someone had not only broken into his quarters but also found out about the pellets hidden inside his crates of pottery. Then Avari looked down at the mess she had made on the rug, with clay vessels lying helter-skelter everywhere and the pellets gathered in her hands.

She couldn't just leave now. The captain would know for sure that someone had discovered his secret, whatever it was. Who knew what he would do then? Avari had to think quickly and act even quicker, to make sure no one was the wiser.

[Avari]

It aggravated Avari to no end to have to walk away from this job, to forfeit the hours she had spent surreptitiously following the cargo wagon, picking the locks of Captain Farabar's lodgings, and going through the crates delivered to his room. Of course, like any thief, the Konti was no stranger to this sort of aggravation, which emerged whenever she tried to pick a pocket or lift a purse that couldn't safely be taken, encountered a mark that just refused to be fooled, or a treasure that was too well-guarded to steal or too distinctive to be pawned off for mizas. Especially for an inexperienced and self-taught thief like Avari, such complications arose regrettably often. Each time, she'd recognized the danger in time and forced herself to walk away. Just because the sensation was familiar, though, didn't make it any less maddening.

What else could she really do now, though, except walk away? The round little pellets of the mysterious, sticky, sweet-smelling substance made her nervous in ways she couldn't fully articulate but knew better than to ignore. The more Avari thought about it, the more certain she felt that they were more trouble than she wanted to handle. The pellets had been jammed tightly into innocuous-looking pottery pieces and brought (smuggled, her mind whispered) into Zeltiva with great care, and the captain himself had specifically ordered that they be brought directly to his rooms for his private use. If they had been legitimate cargo, the clay pots full of pellets would have gone to a warehouse or merchant's shop. It stood to reason. Ergo, the mysterious pellets were something that the not-as-boring-as-he-seemed Captain Farabar was hoarding on the sly and being very careful to keep from getting discovered.

If so, then he probably wouldn't take at all kindly to a thief trying to steal his clandestinely-acquired goods, whatever they were. And if he was capable of secretly bringing (smuggling, hissed Avari's mind again) these pellets from Ahnatep to Zeltiva, then what else was the good captain capable of? He was clearly much more daring than she had guessed, if he was trying to slip these things under the Dockmaster's and the Sailor's Guild's nose.

Still, Avari couldn't help sitting there a moment more to glare at the pellets in disgust. Why couldn't the captain's crates be full of gold and silver mizas, instead of these strange things? What could possibly be interesting about these things?

Then she bustled into action. Gratefully, she remembered that the captain hadn't even laid eyes on his cargo yet, so it wouldn't be hard to conceal the fact that someone had been here and discovered his secret, whatever it was. On the other hand, though, he had been carousing and drinking for quite a while. The Konti would have to work quickly.

Seizing each pottery piece resting on the rug one by one, she carefully dropped one or two pellets into the mouth of every earthenware jar, vase, and pot and then laid each container back into the protective bedding of wood excelsior inside each crate. She couldn't help sighing wistfully at the way each piece of pottery shone softly in the moonlight, glittering with tiny flakes of bright mica. These would fetch a pretty miza or two out of Raleaph, I just know it, she thought. But if I walk away, I have to walk away completely. What if the captain knows how many clay pots should be in each crate, or something like that? I can't risk it. But aargh! Why on earth couldn't these be nice, anonymous, unidentifiable gold mizas?

She gritted her teeth and continued tipping pellets back into the pottery pieces and putting them back into their crates, until there were no more pellets or pottery pieces left. Once more, every chest and crate held about three or four clay vessels, each of which in turn hid one or two pungent-smelling pellets inside. Making a face at the waxy residue the pellets left, she wiped her hands on the hem of her tunic. With a sigh, Avari began closing the lids of each chest and fastening the hasps closed, taking care to lower each lid as slowly and softly as she could to avoid making any sound.

While she managed to close the first few lids quietly, though, her tired and trembling hands betrayed her on the last crate. The lid slipped from her fingers before she could help it and slammed into place atop the chest. The sound of the impact was like a thunderclap in the silence. Avari bit back a curse and immediately stopped moving. Her heart pounded fearfully in her chest as she listened for responses. To her dismay, she heard noises from the room next door, as though the people who had been peacefully sleeping had stirred to life.

It's okay, she told herself anxiously. Don't panic. No one's hammering at the door or anything yet. You're nearly done, anyway. All you have to do now is push the chests into some semblance of order and get out of here fast. Hurry!

Suiting action to thought, she nudged and shoved the chests into roughly the same places they had been when she'd first entered the room, neatly but not perfectly lined up on the rag rug. Her rummaging had displaced them slightly, and the captain would surely be suspicious if he came home and saw the chests resting there off-kilter. Her heart nearly stopped when one chest banged loudly into its neighbor as she pushed it into place, with a thump that surely must have dispelled any doubts that someone was inside the captain's room. Her spirits sank when she heard a voice from the room next door raised in query, no doubt asking aloud, "What was that? Did you hear something?"

When she heard the voice, Avari leaped to her feet and ran lightly to the door. The floorboards creaked in protest beneath her feet, and she suppressed a groan. Still, at this point, speed mattered more than stealth. She probably had only a few minutes to get out of the captain's room and escape the building, before its inhabitants got out of bed and started looking for whoever had made all that noise and woken everyone up.

[Avari]

Bleak images of the infamous Zeltiva prison danced before Avari's eyes as, spurred by the sound of the captain's neighbors stirring in the next room, she ran lightly on the balls of her feet toward the door. She had never known anyone who had actually been in prison, but somehow that only made the city prison's reputation as a legendarily harsh hellhole even more fearsome and sinister. For all she knew, the prison was so horrible and unbearable that all the prisoners died inside its walls and no one ever got out alive. Avari certainly didn't want to find out firsthand, not if she could possibly help it. She had always hated the idea of confinement and imprisonment, but the specific thought of being locked away in the Zeltiva prison made her tremble with unreasoning dread.

In a few fear-driven bounds, she had crossed the room and reached the door to the captain's lodgings. Her first impulse was to wrench the door open and plunge down the stairs, but a tiny part of her mind that still had a grip of rationality forced Avari to stop and take a deep breath. Giving in to unreasoning panic would only make it easier for the captain's neighbors, landlady, and Farabar himself to find her and throw her into prison. As difficult as it would be, with her nerves ablaze and her hands trembling with fear, she mustn't give up on staying as quiet and sneaky as she could. It might buy her some time, a few precious seconds or minutes while her would-be pursuers tried to make up their minds or figure out where she was, and a little time was all she needed to make a clean getaway.

Fiercely aware of her heart pounding like a drum inside her chest, Avari took a long, shaking breath and fought back her terror of being imprisoned. Rather than yanking the door open, she gritted her teeth and gently turned the doorknob instead. It squeaked, and the hinges creaked when she swung open the door. Cautiously, the Konti stuck her head out for a quick peek and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the neighbors' door was still closed.

She closed the door quietly behind her and tiptoed across the landing, feeling ahead of herself with her foot for treacherous floorboards and for the staircase. Though she could still hear soft voices through the door, the fact that the captain's neighbors hadn't left their room or even lit a match lent her hope. When her toes brushed the edge of a stair and felt nothing but empty air below, Avari wavered for a nerve-wracking moment but quickly regained her balance and hurried down the stairs. She patted her cloak to make sure her cloth roll of lock-picks was safely tucked away and tugged her hat tightly down on her head.

Indeed, she was so preoccupied with keeping quiet and adjusting her garments that she failed to notice how the staircase was noticeably cleaner and better-maintained than the one she had taken earlier in the evening to reach the upper landing. Nor did she notice, until it was too late, the lamplight that shone in a yellow pool near the foot of the stairs or the smooth wooden banister against the wall. It wasn't until she had reached the bottom of the stairs and her feet landed on a soft carpet, instead of the hard, dusty floor she'd been expecting, that Avari realized she had taken the stairs to the front door, rather than the back.

For a moment, the Konti just stood there in the lamplit hallway, staring up at the stairs, and thought angrily, I...am an idiot. No other word for it. I'm an idiot!

Briefly, Avari thought about racing back up the stairs and departing by the other stairs that led to the back door. She had even put one foot on the first step, when she heard, from the opposite end of the hallway, the sound of someone at the front door fumbling with a key. The door opened a fraction and a rush of cool night air swept inside, bringing with it the sound of a voice thickened and roughened by too much beer, raised in tuneless but merry singing. Avari grinned unwillingly.

Then the door opened all the way, revealing the flamboyant hat and ruddy, mustached face of Captain Farabar.

She felt her stomach clench when she saw that serious, unprepossessing face. Avalis have mercy, he was right here, in front of her! Even if he was drunk and reeking of kelp beer and as bleary-eyed as a sleepy bear. Avari watched anxiously as Captain Farabar stumbled inside and clumsily closed the door behind him with a clang, dropping his key in the process. He nearly toppled over to one side when he bent and tried to pick up the key, still singing tunelessly all the while to himself.

Now, while he was distracted, was the best time to slip past him and out the door. Avari gathered her cloak and her courage and walked forward. She fought to keep her hands from trembling and held her head high and averted away from the lamplight as she stepped close to the captain. As she approached, the captain looked up groggily and tried to make way for her to pass.

"Goo' evenin', sir," he slurred.

"Good evening," Avari replied, in the lowest, deepest voice she could manage.

She opened the front door and walked past him into the night. As the door closed behind her, Avari exhaled loudly and only then realized how she had been holding her breath as soon as she'd seen Captain Farabar enter the front hall. Ducking her face away from the slanting rays of moonlight, she stepped out onto the street and eased away from the building where the captain lodged, turning onto Fifth Street. She may not have stolen anything, but she had made it out of there alive and unharmed.

And she had found out a great secret that Captain Farabar was keeping. Perhaps there was a way she could turn a profit out of that, somehow.

But that would have to be for another day. For now, the surprises and stresses of the night had left Avari weary and thinking only of a good night's rest. Slowly but steadily, she made her way toward her own cottage, leaving the captain's treasure chests and secrets behind, for now.

[Paragon]

Avari : Avari Skill XP Reward Larceny +4 Stealth +4 Fortune-telling +2 Rhetoric +1 Investigation +4 Observation +2 Running +1 Acting +1 Lore: Quit When Your Winning, Profit Making Ingenuity, The Importance of Getting your Bearings, Captain Farabar's Secret Other: +6 Silver Miza's Absolutely fantastic - you're really talented at this. I enjoyed reading Avari's escapade's, and can't wait to read some more - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.