Thieves at Heart

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THIEVES AT HEART

Copyright © 2011 Tristan J. Tarwater

Some rights reserved.

Published in the United States by

Back That Elf Up Publishing House.

www.backthatelfup.com

This book is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 license.

That means you are free:

Under the following conditions:

Book Design: Christopher Tarwater

Cover Artist: Amy Clare Learmonth

Editor: Annetta Ribken

ePub ISBN:0984008934

ePub ISBN-13:9780984008933

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It would be downright terrible of me to not acknowledge some of the amazing people who helped Thieves at Heart and The Valley of Ten Crescents get rolling.

First of all to my spouse and Admin, Chris. You put me in the situation where I came up with Tavi, Derk and all the other things in these stories. You put up with me rambling about histories and geographies and religions and topographies. You made the site, learned how to format e-books, web design…and you’ve supported my writing. I could write a book about how wonderful you are, basically.

SOPI. You can’t read yet but if it weren’t for you destroying a vast majority of my free time with your fiery personality I wouldn’t have turned into a maniac, writing during the scant moments I had. A lot of this was written when you were asleep at night or taking a nap or (finally) playing quietly by yourself. In addition, I wanted to do the thing I most wanted to do so when you get older you feel like you can do the same. Do what you love.

Nathan. My first fan. *fistbump* You read the whole thing. All of it. And talked to me about it. It helped me want to finish the next bit, knowing you were waiting to find out what happened to Tavera. You helped get this all out. Thank you for waiting for all this and always being there for fantasy fun.

Vas! You’re such an inspiration and helped me out so much with your encouragement (and provided comics I could veg with when I needed a break). You’re my unofficial mentor on how to be professional while still being myself. You are an amazing creator and an amazing person.

Lynn. Thank you for telling me that the story could be better. I really appreciate your honesty. Seriously. And thank you for introducing me to Annetta. You are a great ambassador and representative for the world of self-publishing. And thank you for introducing me to a genre of book I don’t normally read!

Annetta, you make editing a total joy. You worked with our deadline and are totally awesome to work with. I honestly was not expecting to get an editor AND a friend but I did. Half this book would not be here if not for you. Literally. You rocked the Valley.

And to all our Kickstarter Backers: H. David and Nereida Brooks, Brittany McGuire, Jeron Richardson, Andrew W. Williams Jr., Stephanie Brown, Jerry Dotseth, Andres Ford, Kat Garcia, David Hostetter, Andrea Johnson, Vas Littlecrow, Kara Maeder, Stephanie Martin, and Christopher Tomblin. Thank you so much for backing this elf up. We really appreciate it.

CHAPTER 1

Out of The Dregs

“Tavi, I really wish you weighed more, girl. You can never pull these things tight enough!” Prisca the Tart stood up from the bed, examining the ties of the wide belt she wore under her bust in the full length mirror. A look of disappointment came over the woman’s highly painted face as she looked over the leather cords crisscrossing her back, brown threaded through pale pink matching the dress she was wearing. Her light eyes lit upon the tiny bit of the girl reflected in the mirror, a small brown hand crawling away once it was noticed. The woman sighed and laughed, brushing out her skirts as she walked back to the bed and sat in front of the little girl, the hay and feathers settling with a rustle under her weight. “Come now, sweets, use those tiny fingers of yours and fix what you’ve done.”

“Yes, mam,” came the quiet voice, the girl’s head bowed as she went to work. Skinny legs shifted under the girl’s small frame and she scratched at her greasy dark hair, what remained of her locks barely long enough to cover one slightly pointed ear. Her hand brushed against the other ear as her hands went to Prisca’s laces. Where there was supposed to be a point was instead a straight line, pink and tender where a knife had cut the cartilage away. It still sent a shiver through Tavi when she touched it. The loss of her hair meant she couldn’t hide the telltale signs of her blood or her past and her face grew hot even now, recalling Prisca’s announcement and remedy. Lice and a shave. “Can’t have bugs hopping about when I’m on business,” Prisca had said as she shaved off the girl’s knotty black locks. Dark eyes glanced towards the mirror and Tavi wondered if she could look at her own reflection without crying yet. The assurance that
she wasn’t the only girl on the Row to have her head shaved didn’t help. Slender, nimble fingers tugged at the cords already warm from the woman’s body heat, and the little girl coughed slightly as she worked, pulling back on the ties as hard as she could.

“You’re not coming down with something now, are you?” Prisca asked, breathing in sharply as the little girl found a very loose spot and tugged hard. “The minute you start feeling ill, you must let me know so I can get you something for it. Can’t have sickness about, you know.”

“Just clearing my throat, mam,” Tavi said, untying the tie at the top and placing her tiny foot on the woman’s ample backside, leaning back with all of her weight and grunting as she did so, the woman holding onto the bed frame so hard her knuckles were white. The girl frowned with a mouth slightly too big for her face and she carefully tied a bow, making sure the cords were the same length at the ends. “I still don’t understand why I have to do this if you’re to take it off anyway.”

“Oh, Tavi dear.” Satisfied with the tautness of the garment, the woman turned to look in the mirror again, tucking a blonde curl behind one ear while letting another fall across her face. “You’re a bit young to understand, but I’ll teach you in time. I don’t know how you elfy ones grow, but I suspect sooner than later you’ll be ready to answer calls, with the Priestess’ blessing.” Prisca dipped a finger into a pot of ground clay and vegetable juice, running the digit over her eyelids. The faint smoky color made her blue eyes seem even bluer in the light of the lantern. Tavi watched with some interest as Prisca picked a heartberry out of a bowl of fruit sitting on her nightstand, rubbing it against her teeth and lips before she ate the berry whole. “And,” the woman added, holding the fruit out towards Tavi. The little girl pressed her lips together before her dark fingers darted out, picking out a tart greenberry, her face screwing up as
its sourness danced across her tongue. Prisca laughed, a sound like a cackle and a chuckle all in one. “You really must start eating more and eating the things I tell you. You’re far too thin! Can’t have men thinking they’ll snap you in two. Your Red Earth will never come if you don’t fill out, love.”

A bell above the door chimed, the dented metal causing it to ring strangely. Prisca clapped her hands with glee, reaching over for a vial of scented oil she had been gifted recently. The fragrance was of something Tavi had smelled before but couldn’t place. Prisca said it was distilled moonflower and something the girl had never heard of that was supposed to ‘tighten mens’ trousers’. The woman turned the bottle over on her finger and dabbed between her breasts before running the still shining finger across her neck, the way someone might do to indicate they were going to slit someone’s throat. She then placed the bottle back on the nightstand, as it had been a gift from the person she was expecting. Prisca had told Tavi it was good to display gifts the customers had given when they visited. Excitement made the woman bounce up and down on the mattress, her hands clasped over her heart. “This could be it!” Prisca squeaked lustily, blushing through her makeup. &
ldquo;I think it is. Make yourself scarce now and have at it, you know what to do.” Before the Tart had finished giving her orders, the little girl had already ducked into the space between the walls as always, careful to place the upholstered chair close enough to the secret hiding place so she could reach it easily but still remain hidden as she went about her side of the business.

When she originally started picking the pockets of customers for Prisca the Tart, the anticipation always filled her with fear and excitement. After a few months of sliding back the hidden panel and rummaging around for coins, charms or other things the men would never report stolen to the local brown cloaks it became mundane, almost easy. However, today was different. Tonight was the New Moon, and as Prisca the Tart had always done on the New Moon, she and Brass Sera and Kind Gia went down to the soothsayer to have their fortunes told. The soothsayer was a short, wizened woman, shrouded in a brown, thick cloak. She sat on a street corner, offering fortunes for coin or food. All that was exposed of the woman was her deeply creased face and her curled, spotted hands, gnarled from the twisting sickness some old people got. It made Tavi’s skin crawl to look at it. The old woman scared Tavi and she told Prisca as much but her mam had shook her head and laughed in response. The old woman turned the
cards over for Prisca and informed her that from a secret place, a boon would be in her room before the moon set.

Tavi could make out her benefactor from behind the false wall, seeing her large bosom rise and fall with each breath. She couldn’t let her mam down. Her stomach fluttered as she considered what good fortune would come their way. What would the men have in their pockets? Maybe someone with a good deal of money would take Prisca ‘into his pocket’ and by association, Tavi would benefit as well. Her mouth felt dry and she licked her lips, waiting, her heart pounding as the sound of booted footsteps came closer.

The door opened and for a few breaths, no one walked in. Then Prisca clapped her hands joyfully and the man entered, closing the door behind him with a low thud shaking the walls. Tavi narrowed her eyes as she looked through the peek-hole. She thought she recognized the boots and strained her ear to listen to what the grown ups were saying.

“Ah, Prisca…beautiful as always,” came the deep voice, muffled slightly by distance and wood. His boots were well worn but had once been fine, a deep mahogany brown color offset with tarnished, metal buckles. There was something funny about the heels of the boots and the sound they made whenever he walked in, but the girl could never quite place her finger on it. Prisca stood up from the bed, only to stop short, laughing raucously as the man rushed towards her and threw her down onto the already rumpled sheets and well used mattress.

This was the part Tavi was interested in, though not for the reason most people would be. The little girl silently thanked the goddess that the man had come to collect, and quickly. Sometimes Prisca and her clients would talk for a while, the Tart pouring them a glass of beer or allowing them to read things they had written for her. The more time they spent doing this the longer Tavi had to sit in the crawl space, waiting for an opportune time to get to work. On one occasion a fellow had talked to her mam for so long, Tavi’s legs had fallen asleep. Prisca had to pry her out of the wall, laughing the whole time and apologizing while all Tavi could do was cry as the blood rushed back into her legs, drawing tears from her eyes and curses from her young mouth. But the man whose boots she liked and wondered at was making good and quick on his money. She held her breath and listened to be sure that they were fully occupied with one another, the bed creaking and rustling with their movement before the
little girl slid back the tiny panel in the wall.

Tavi examined the jacket tossed carelessly onto the high backed chair, the upholstery worn and faded after various types of use. The jacket was unremarkable. The pockets faced her, which would make her job even easier. Depending on whether the event was ‘quick and painless,’ as her mam told her most business transactions were, or ‘pleasure and leisure,’ Tavi would decide if she should check for inner pockets, where most of the better items were hidden.

Her hand was wrist deep in the left hand pocket when she heard Prisca squeal and the man say something, the woman laughing in response. Tavi smiled to herself, a small, excited smile within the dark between the walls. A deeper inspection would be made.

The little girl took a deep breath before creeping her hand forward, sliding it over the fabric and through the folds, searching for an inner pocket. A lip of fabric brushed against her fingertips and she grinned, listening carefully before letting her fingers slip into the surprisingly silky soft lining and into the hidden pocket. Tavi felt something cold and hard, her tongue slipping its way past her lips as she wondered what it could be, her fingers trailing over the length of the object…a dagger?