Of Mummers, Masks, and Sleight of Hand (solo)

[Avari]

Season of Winter, Day 5, 511 AV

Winter had come. Avari could feel it settling over the city, the crisp chill in the air that heralded the falling of snow in the mountains and the Bonesnapper howling through Zeltiva. It was always a lean time for the city, as it meant fewer ships would be coming in and out of the docks as the sea turned icy and the winds turned stormy, and thinnest of all for thieves and pickpockets like her. Fewer ships and colder, shorter days meant fewer people in the streets and more citizens staying at home, watching over their valuables. She sighed and wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders, even though it wasn't very cold yet. It would be, soon; she could sense it.

But for now, the streets were still lively and the city was bustling with traders, sailors, and scholars alike who, like her, were undoubtedly trying to squeeze as much profit or pleasure as they could before the wintry weather set in. The Konti suppressed a smile as she patrolled the streets as methodically as any city guardsman, if not nearly so wholesome in purpose. Rather than watching for crimes in progress and stopping them, she was looking for good targets on which to commit crimes in the near future: confused out-of-towners, busy shoppers and merchants, naïve and bright-eyed young students, or anyone else who looked prosperous and preoccupied with things other than their purses. She also kept her eyes open for anything interesting or unusual happening in the streets, more for her own amusement and edification than for immediate gain.

On this particular day, the interesting thing that she first encountered was the raucous sound of excited shouts and laughter coming from a street corner up ahead. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered around a tall, slim man and were clapping enthusiastically at his antics. Rising up onto her tiptoes, Avari could just barely see over the shoulder of the nearest spectator.

In the center of the small crowd, the tall man was performing a pantomime of what Avari guessed was a sea captain commanding his vessel. Clad in a blue velvet coat and an enormous tri-cornered hat with an eye-catching curling plume, he certainly was dressed for the part. He made the spectators laugh by extending an imaginary telescope and peering through it, and then whirling and ordering invisible sailors to heave ho. Scowling fiercely, he took a few authoritative strides to his right and grabbed hold of a pretend ship's wheel, whirling it violently to the left. Then the man pantomimed swerving and losing his balance as the ship veered wildly off-course. His mouth flew open and his eyes widened in panic as he "lost" his footing once and for all and toppled dramatically, disappearing into a narrow, short alleyway near the street corner.

The crowd cheered and applauded. "Jolly good show!" Avari heard one man shout approvingly. "One more! One more!" cried a young girl, hopping up and down excitedly.

In less time than Avari would have imagined, the tall, thin man reappeared, costumed as an entirely different role. This time, he wore thick spectacles, a flowing beard, and a clean white apron and had a much less assured, much more absent-minded gait and demeanor. Avari was impressed by how quickly he had managed the costume change and how believably he acted out the new role. He emerged from the alleyway holding an imaginary magnifying glass and peering at things in his other hand, then on the ground, and then upon the walls. Sometimes, he collected a sample, and other times he frowned in true scholarly disappointment, entirely absorbed in his search for specimens. For his conclusion, the man raised his magnifying glass straight into one of the spectators' face, peered through it, and gave a great, silent scream of fright. With a start, he whirled and dove frantically into the alleyway, giving a single backward glance while his audience chortled and cheered.

Avari couldn't help laughing with the others at the conclusion. She glanced from side to side and saw excited, happy faces everywhere, as well as expressions of hope and interest in further pantomimes. It wasn't until the man came back for another performance and the expressions on those faces turned to delight, anticipation, and rapt absorption that a most tempting idea entered her mind.

Amid the laughter and applause of the crowd, the Konti slowly drew one of her throwing daggers and casually sidled closer to a nearby spectator, a brawny man with the look of a smith. His purse hung from his belt, just barely visible under his heavy cloak.

"Look!" she exclaimed to him, pointing toward the tall, slim man in the center of the crowd. The tall man was now, astonishingly, dressed as a wealthy woman in a frilly-looking gown and parasol. He preened and fluttered quite fatuously, and Avari didn't have to fake her amused laugh. "Isn't that absurd?"

The smith grinned and sniggered at the man's pantomime, not paying a bit of attention as Avari lowered her pointing hand and her tiny blade snicked out toward his purse. With the care acquired from dozens of pickpocketing attempts, she scored a small hole in the cloth purse with the dagger's tip and nudged it open wider, letting the coins inside slip out one by one into her waiting left hand. The smith did look up as the last coin fell into her palm, making Avari's heart freeze with a momentary panic.

Quickly, she palmed the coins into the hand that held the dagger's hilt and pointed again. "Look!" she exclaimed, as the tall man waved an imaginary fan and flounced around the center of the crowd. The smith followed her finger and broke into laughter as the be-gowned man pranced flamboyantly back into the alleyway for another change of costumes and roles.

As soon as his attention was diverted, Avari slipped away and began looking for another victim. This time, she turned her attention to a young, enraptured University student. With her dagger hidden in her palm, Avari went to work as soon as she heard the cries of the crowd when the tall man came back, busily slitting his pocket while pointing forward and away with her other hand.

[Avari]

For the next fifteen minutes, while the performer on the street corner acted out a few more humorous pantomimes of famous figures or recognizable stereotypes, Avari squirmed through the crowd trying to slit purses with one hand while pointing to the performer with the other. With the small blade of her throwing dagger hidden in her palm, she eased close to distracted and prosperous-looking audience members. Depending on how they had secured their money, she would then attempt to cut free their purse or slice delicately through their pockets to free their coins. The liberated money would fall into her waiting hand and get tucked under her voluminous cloak, and off she would turn toward another likely prospect who was busy laughing at the performer and not paying attention to his purse.

In some ways, it was easier than trying to pick pockets in the market; the Konti didn't even need to fake bumping into someone or incidentally brushing against them to get close. Everyone in the small crowd was pushing and bobbing from side to side to get a better view, and their attention was focused on the entertainment, not on their money. Avari was able to weave through the press without turning heads and make half a dozen purse-swiping attempts in quick succession. Some purses or moneybags were less full or more secure than they appeared at first, and their owners sometimes proved more alert than Avari had bargained for. One burly, weathered-looking fisherman turned and gave her a suspicious glare just as she was about to reach for his money bag, forcing her to back away immediately, while a slender, ink-stained scribe neatly dodged her attempt to pick his pocket without even realizing she was there.

By the time she had elbowed and snaked her way to the front of the small crowd, though, Avari had managed to filch a handful of mizas from the dirty apron pocket of a stout innkeeper and cut free the coin pouch of a preoccupied, tired-looking university student. Now, the performer was announcing that this would be his last pantomime, to many good-natured groans. Realizing that this would be her last chance to take advantage of this stationary crowd, Avari looked around quickly for one more target.

In an instant, the Konti spotted the perfect mark for a final pull. Watching the performer raptly, a young woman stood just a few feet away with her arms full of shopping bags and wares. Her attention would be focused on the pantomimes and her packages, and even if she detected Avari's touch, she'd have a harder time reacting quickly. Gritting her teeth, Avari pushed past the tradesman between them and came to the young woman's side.

As she approached the young woman's right side and tucked her dagger into her right hand, though, Avari felt eyes watching her. It was like an animal instinct, a warning that the hunter was in danger of becoming hunted. She froze and looked up quickly, checking her surroundings. Everyone's attention was focused on the street corner and the performer, now costumed as an elderly man with spectacles and a long, flowing white beard. Her gaze swept past the crowd and met, with a thrill of shock, the eyes of the performer himself, dark and glinting behind the false spectacles, staring right at her.

Paralyzed by the realization that she had been found out, Avari simply stared back. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then the man winked at her, the long beard twitched slightly in a cough or a chuckle. Suddenly he swung around, raising his voice to declaim the first lines of some poem or story.

Avari exhaled. The fear that he would give her away eased, and she turned back to the young woman with renewed purpose. Somehow, the performer had noticed what she was doing, yet he wasn't going to report her or even draw attention to her. Good luck like this didn't fall upon her every day, and she was determined to take full advantage of it.

She drew closer to the young woman holding the packages, so close that she could smell her perfume. Using her cloak to conceal the movement of her right arm across her body, she extended her bare hand cautiously toward the woman's right side. Her fingertips brushed against an opening in the woman's frayed brown coat, a pocket. With practiced fingers, she delicately prodded inside the pocket, testing if the purse was inside. Avari's fingers touched it and instinctively hooked around the top.

Taking a deep breath, she prayed that the mizas inside would not clink and lifted the purse out of the woman's pocket.

Immediately, she pulled her hand back inside her cloak and stuffed the purse down her tunic, adding to the lump formed by the other pouch she'd filched. She eased away from the young woman, who hadn't even glanced her way but was giggling at the performer's antics. Right on cue, the tall man at the center of the crowd came to a stop and bowed deeply.

"That's it, everyone!" he announced in a loud, booming voice. "If you enjoyed my performances today, please feel free to leave a donation before you return to your ordinary, everyday lives. I live only to entertain and dazzle audiences, but must live on bread and water -- or, in this city, fish and kelp beer -- like everyone else, I'm afraid!"

A few chuckles rang through the crowd at the reference to Zeltiva's staple food and drink, joined soon after by applause and cheers. Several men and women crowded forward to press a few mizas into the performer's hand, while others strolled off. A few of them would find their purses flat and empty, or gone altogether. Standing still amid the press of people moving forward, backward, or away, Avari smiled to herself with the satisfaction of a good day's work accomplished.

As the small crowd dispersed, she too turned around and began walking off. She stopped, though, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, the touch light but firm.

"Ma'am?" The voice was that of the performer's, suppressed to a low murmur.

Reluctantly, Avari turned around and saw the tall man standing behind her. He looked so different without his masks, props, and costumes, his features utterly ordinary and unmemorable. She felt like she could almost forget what he looked like even while looking directly at him. It was the perfect face for a thief, but a startling one for a performer, even one who played pantomimes on the street.

He grinned at her, those dark eyes flashing with a hint of wickedness. "Wouldn't you like to leave a donation, too? I believe you owe me something for my help just now."

[Avari]

Avari frowned as she faced the grinning man who had just put on a fine show for a small audience on the street corner. She couldn't help thinking of how little she wanted to relinquish even the smallest portion of the few mizas she'd nicked. Just the thought of giving away money for nothing gave the Konti an itchy, fidgety feeling of discomfort and reluctance. Yet, if she refused him, it might offend him. Did she dare offend someone who had seen her picking people's pockets and knew her for a thief?

The thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant, with decision hard on their heels.

"Here," she said shortly. Reaching into the purse she'd pulled from the woman's pocket, Avari brought up a handful of colorful, rimmed stones. She thrust the money at him. "Will that do? For what I owe you?"

His grin broadening, the performer graciously took the mizas and counted them. "Two gold and four silver mizas. Yes, that will do quite nicely." Pocketing the money, he added, "After all, if it hadn't been for me, those people wouldn't have been standing so still and too busy gaping at the show to look down at their pockets. They must have made easy pickings for you, my dear. I knew as soon as I spotted you working your way through the crowd that you were snitching jingles and pulling wobblers."

"What does 'snitching jingles' mean?" Avari asked, genuinely puzzled. "Or 'pulling wobblers'?"

"Stealing money and small items," the man explained with a chuckle. "I forgot street slang changes from city to city. Those were the phrases I learned growing up in...well, never mind where I was. You've likely got your own slang in Zeltiva, I wager."

This allusion to a past of thievery aroused Avari's interest and turned her thoughts away from the mizas she had just handed over to him. This street performer was full of surprises.

"You, uh, used to...to snitch jingles?" she asked, borrowing the phrase he'd used. "Then...that explains why you didn't raise a fuss when you noticed what I was doing. Or start calling for the city guard."

Chuckling again, the man fell into step beside her. "Nah, nah, I was never in the, shall we say, the acquisitions business. But I used to work with a girl who was. My little sister, in fact. I'd recite a speech or playact some scene, and she'd work the crowd, emptying purses. You reminded me of her, a little. She was darker than you, but you're small and quick like her. It brought back memories when I saw you sneaking around."

"What happened to her?" she couldn't help asking.

He shot a quick glance at her, as though surprised by the question. Avari saw his Adam's-apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. "She died three winters ago. Caught a sickness and coughed out her life. She wasn't more than a child when it killed her."

Avari felt an odd emotion, something akin to compassion, rising in her breast. Before she could murmur some words of condolence, though, the man shook his head rapidly, as though shedding bad memories. Thrusting his hands, and the mizas he'd been holding all the while, deep into his coat pockets, he forced a smile.

"Anyway, I'd be a fool if I made a fuss over how anyone makes their money," he continued. "We're all trying to get money from each other one way or another, aren't we? Who am I to say that my way's better than yours, if both of them work?"

"Right," Avari agreed fervently. "That's exactly what I think too."

The man grinned. "Somehow I knew you'd see it the same way. I guess that isn't entirely true, though. I can't entirely hold with people who kill others for a living. Mercenaries, soldiers, and the like. Not really a repeat business, is it? And it's a waste of customers for everyone."

Avari laughed aloud. For some reason, she pictured the tall swordsman she'd run into in the fall, Jaron. "I couldn't have said it better, sir."

Enjoying the unexpected feeling of camaraderie, she ventured her own glances toward him. "You know," she said, in the voice of one thinking aloud, "considering I just made such a generous donation, I was wondering if you might do me a favor. A lesson, more like. Seeing as we come from similar backgrounds, so to speak, I think it'd be only fair."

"Oh? What do you have in mind?" the man inquired, turning toward her.

"Well, you were awfully good on the corner there, just now," Avari told him. "You were so good at acting like someone else, imitating their movements and expressions and even their voices. And you know, well, in the...the acquisitions business, sometimes it really helps to look like someone you're not. I know I could use it, being so pale and noticeable." She paused and then admitted, "All I really know right now is how to smear mud or ash on my face to darken my skin. But it's awfully crude, and I wish I could do more than that."

"So, it's disguises you want to learn, and acting," the man mused. "What makes you think I'd hand over what I know to a stranger like you?"

Avari blinked at him, taken aback by his curt response. "Please?" she said softly. "For the memory of your sister. And because I can teach you something in kind."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't you be bringing up my sister again. And what could you possibly have to teach me?"

"Well, like you said, I'm small...and quick." The Konti brought out a single miza from her cloak and held it in her left hand. Curling her fingers over her palm, she made the miza disappear by tucking it out of sight against the back of her hand with her thumb and then reached up toward the man's ear. He grinned when she plucked the miza seemingly from thin air from around his earlobe. "I can teach you a little sleight of hand, some tricks with coins and stones, and you could add it to your acts."

Eyeing her as she slipped the miza back into her pocket, the man crossed his arms and considered.

"Oh, very well," he said at last. "I'll give you one hour, for drinks and lessons somewhere in this city. You can't learn too much from me in that little time, but it'll be better than rubbing ash on your face. And you can teach me some of your tricks and I'll see if they're worth using. And of course..." His eyes took on that wicked glint again. "You're buying."

[Avari]

Over mugs of kelp beer and water, the dark-haired street performer asked to see Avari's face, to see what he could recommend in terms of disguise and camouflage. After a moment of hesitation, she obliged, taking off her wide-brimmed hat and lowering the neckline of her cloak. He sucked in his breath when he saw the pallor of her hair and skin, as well as the faint shimmer of the scales below her jaw, even in the dim light of the tavern. Avari could read the question in his eyes -- What is someone like you doing picking pockets and stealing trifles? -- but just as she had not pressed him about his origins, he did not ask his question aloud. The truth of the "honor among thieves" concept was questionable at best, but there did exist a certain fellow craftsmen's respect among tricksters and practitioners of the illicit arts.

So, the man did not ask, though Avari was sure he must be wondering about her. She saw his gaze linger for a moment on the sides of her neck, where her gills and scales peeked faintly over her tunic collar. Then he leaned forward and stared intently at her face, slowly extending a hand to trace the contours of her features. Ruefully, the performer shook his head in wry wonder.

"Not a wrinkle, nor a crease to be seen," he marveled dryly. "How old are you, lass?"

"Thirty-three," Avari answered guardedly, slightly irked by the offhand way he referred to her.

"Ah, almost the same age as me," the man remarked, "but you could pass for my daughter. Still, age is not always an enemy, not if you want to look unlike yourself. Kohl or greasepaint rubbed into wrinkles can deepen and accentuate them. You can make yourself look years older that way. Or you can cover up the wrinkles with a good thick coat of face paint and…"

Catching Avari's irritated look, the man interrupted himself in mid-sentence. "But those are tricks for mummers and actors, who use cosmetics as you and I use our wits. For you, perhaps, the simplest way to disguise yourself is with the clever use of clothing."

"But these are all the clothes I ha-" Avari began to protest.

"Tut, tut," the man broke in, raising his hand sharply. "I am not suggesting that you buy an entire new wardrobe, lass. It does not take too much to make sure your face and body are well-hidden, or at least not easily recognized. That big hat of yours is a good start, but if you wear it every day, it will become too familiar, too closely identified with you."

Tilting his head, he squinted thoughtfully at her. "For you, I would say perhaps a boy's cap, just large enough to bundle your hair under it. You are small and thin, and…wait, do not be so quick to take offense," he cautioned, seeing Avari's eyes flare in the tavern's lamplight. "Even you cannot deny that you are small in build. If that and your cap makes them think you are a boy or a youth, then they will not know you for the pale woman who sneaks through crowds. But you'll have their money just the same. My little sister did that sometimes, dressed as a boy, especially if we were staying in the same city for a while."

Avari subsided, thinking over his words. She knew she was small and slender, with hardly any bosom or feminine curves to speak of, and no amount of wishful thinking or shows of temper would change that. Never had she thought that it could prove a blessing to her. It had never occurred to her to masquerade as a boy, but now that the idea had been planted, she found herself wanting to try it. The performer was right; no one would associate a quick-fingered, light-footed boy with a fortune-telling Konti maiden.

Not noticing her reverie, the street-corner performer was speaking again. "…another idea might be to stuff rags and cloth under your cloak to make yourself stouter. You'll need to pad those gloves of yours too, so your hands as well as your figure look plump. The idea is to appear nothing like yourself, after all. You might need to wrap a scarf or muffler around those thin cheeks of yours, too, to make them look rounder."

"Next, you'll be telling me to don a knight's helm and hide my face behind those…those visor things," Avari jested, in an attempt at lightheartedness.

The man chuckled. "No, I doubt anyone would ever take you for a man-at-arms. But you are getting the right idea. If you wear items that conceal your identity, like hats or scarves, while making you look like someone else, you can trick others into not seeing you at all."

The Konti nodded solemnly. She remembered how the man had donned a huge, gaudy ball gown when play-acting as a spoiled noblewoman on the street corner. The outrageous gown had drawn everyone's attention to its garishness, while concealing the performer's masculine build with its flouncing skirts and corseted bodice. Of course, he had worn other accouterments to help his act, but still, the gown by itself had been quite effective.

"A boy's cap and clothes," she murmured aloud, committing the ideas to memory. Self-mockingly, she added, "I doubt I will need to bind my breasts, though. Or I can stuff rags under my clothes to make me look as plump as a waddling seal. And…what else did you say? Scarves and hats. I will remember."

To her surprise, the performer nodded approvingly. "If I had longer to teach you, I would show you how you can even use simple masks to cover your face without drawing attention. Maybe even how to use the muscles of your face to make yourself prettier or uglier or plainer. But my ship leaves in the evening, and I will be happier in a southern clime with warmer winds than your Bonesnapper."

He lifted his mug and took a long swig of kelp beer, wiping the greenish foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now, lass, I believe we had a deal? A few skills of your trade for some much-needed advice about mine, if I recall correctly?"

[Avari]

Avari nodded gravely in agreement and began speaking in what she fondly imagined was her droning, didactic professor's voice, though to a casual listener the Konti sounded more like she was troubled by a bothersome cold. As she spoke, she pulled a single silver miza from her money pouch and held it up in the dim light of the tavern. She tossed it deftly in the air and caught it, slapping the small rimmed coin onto the table with a satisfying clinking sound.

"Well, the same skills that are useful for picking pockets and cutting purses," she lectured with an air of solemn authority, "can also be useful for putting on a little show. Now, I don't know if your little sister taught you much about palming things or misdirection…?" She tilted her head inquisitively.

The street performer shrugged. " Not much. She always said my hands were too big and clumsy for it."

Avari smiled indulgently. "Well, then, we'll start with something basic and fundamental. This little trick is something I like to practice to keep my fingers quick and agile. It's called the coin walk and is very simple in concept, but can be fun to watch. Here, see how I do it."

Carefully, she held her right hand flat over the table, palm facing downward and fingers parallel to the table's surface. As the performer watched curiously, Avari gently slid the coin between her thumb and index finger. She took a deep breath and, using her thumb, pushed the silver-rimmed miza upward so that it balanced atop her index finger. Then, using her middle finger, she pulled the miza down and over, so that it rolled over to the top of her middle finger. She did the same thing with her ring and middle fingers so that the miza flipped over onto her ring finger. The miza seemed to flicker easily and smoothly across her fingers with little effort. Once the coin reached her pinkie, she simply held it flat between her last two fingers, moved her thumb under her hand, and pulled the miza across the underside of the hand into the starting position between the thumb and index finger.

"You see?" she said, smiling. "You push up with the first finger and pull down with the second to get the coin to flip over onto each finger. The coin's own speed and momentum can help you here. Try it."

She offered the miza to the performer, who hesitated, stared at the coin, and then tucked it between his thumb and forefinger just as Avari had done. Though he looked at her doubtfully, the man easily slid the coin onto his forefinger. When he tried to manipulate the coin onto the middle finger, though, the miza slipped between his fingers and clattered on the table. On the second try, he pinched the miza so tightly between index and middle finger that, when he tried to push it, the coin flipped up into the air. The man looked up at Avari, chagrined.

"Maybe something a little closer to your talents," the Konti hastened to say, seeing his embarrassed, vexed expression. He handed the miza back to her.

She decided to teach him the classic coin vanish, which relied as much on misdirection as on manual dexterity. Demonstrating, while describing her every action aloud, Avari held the miza in the fingertips of her right hand, which she held very slightly curved with the palm facing her. With a dramatic gesture, she brought her other hand over to grab the miza, but explained while she did so that she was actually releasing the coin and letting it catch at the base of her fingers. Acting as though she had taken the miza with her left hand, though, she took the hand away, curled it into a fist, and playfully blew into it. With a grin, Avari then opened her left hand to show it was empty. Then, for the sake of the lesson, she showed him how the miza still rested in her right hand, trapped firmly between two fingers.

"You see, the real trick for this one is making it look natural when you pretend to take the miza away," she told the street performer. "It should be easy for you, considering you're the one acting things out all the time."

Again, she handed the coin over to the performer. He did much better with this trick, enough to make her wonder why she hadn't started the lesson with the coin-vanish first. The only difficulty he had at first was making sure he caught the miza in the original hand without letting it fall, but even on his first try, he was much better than Avari at pretending to grab the coin and take it away.

"Child's play," the performer scoffed once he had mastered the trick on his fourth try. "This isn't going to entertain a crowd! What else do you have for me?"

Avari rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "First you complain that the trick is too hard, and then you complain that the second is too easy! There's just no pleasing you, is there?" She smiled at him to show she was jesting and went on, "You can use that ability to conceal the coin in your hand for many other tricks, like plucking a coin from thin air. Watch this."

Picking up the miza, she tucked it tightly between two fingers, before presenting her apparently empty palm to the performer with her fingers pointing straight upward. She counted aloud, "One, two, three!" and waved her hand. Very quickly, she grabbed the miza with her thumb from between her fingers and slid it along the side of her index finger. With a flourish, she presented the coin, pinched between the tips of her thumb and forefinger.

She then showed him how he could use the same trick to pull a coin seemingly from someone's ear or to "find" a coin in someone's empty pocket or pouch. At these tricks, though, the man's face furrowed in a look of disappointment again.

"Bah!" he exclaimed, pushing his tankard across the table. "These simple tricks wouldn't fool a child! Don't you know anything else to dazzle a crowd?"

"They're not simple if you don't know the trick behind them!" Avari replied with some heat. "And my work isn't to bedazzle and show off; it's to go unseen and unnoticed as I take people's money. These are the best I could think of."

"These are the best you could do, eh?" the performer asked, cocking an eyebrow. Abruptly, he rose to his feet and pushed back his chair. "In that case, I dare say there's nothing more to be learned here for either of us. And it is about time I was getting off to my ship and starting my travels."

"I'm sorry my lessons were of so little use to you," Avari remarked, not without sarcasm.

The dark-haired man laughed. "Well, if it's any comfort, lass, your donation this afternoon was much appreciated. As for the rest, we'll see. Don't forget my advice about using different clothes to disguise yourself!"

With that, he dropped a few coins onto the table to pay for his drinks and swept off. The Konti watched him leave with a disgruntled look on her face, slightly vexed that her lessons hadn't seemed to help him any. To her surprise, though, Avari heard a faint clinking sound coming from the man as he walked off. She half-stood from her chair to investigate, and a grin spread over her face when she saw him take a coin and place it on the back of his hand, trying to make it dance across his fingers the way she'd shown him. She thought about the advice he'd given her and vowed to experiment with them as well, to see how far they could take her in her thieving career.

[Paragon]

Avari : Avari Skill XP Reward Larceny +4 Disguise +3 Teaching +1 Lore: Snitching Jingles, Gender Disguise, Basic Disguise Techniques Other: N/A Great solo, and it's great Avari has a new skill to play with now... I'm no longer rewarding thieves in the city money on a thread based basis, instead, you will start earning a thieve's wage. You get your wages at the end of a season, and threads like this count as evidence towards the wage. You earn 2 gold miza's per day for your thieving, but when we finish our moderated thread, we'll consider improving your position - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.