Sticky Fingers
Posted: Fri Jun 30, 2006 2:05 pm
Becky clutched her arm, pointing with the other. The hin’s eyes nearly as wide as the jewels on the mirror. It dangled from the Lady’s waist, reflecting the sunlight in red and silver sparkles. The matching comb hit the mirror with the lady’s smooth gait, the soft clink, clink as music to their ears. Lisa followed, prying Becky’s tiny talons out of her arm. So pretty, but she would not keep it. Just a test. A joke. A game. She could lift it, she knew she could.
Becky left her to watch from the other side of the market. Everyone blamed the hin when they lost something, so she never stole. But it did not stop her from enjoying Lisa’s pranks. Lisa moved a little closer, adjusting her skirts.
Standing right next to the Lady, her hand hidden by her hips, Lisa forgot to breathe as she oh so slowly pulled the ribbon holding the comb and mirror. The Lady continued to look over the fine potions in the market. First the comb slipped away into Lisa’s apron, then the mirror.
The Lady turned away to look over another stall, Lisa continued to face the array of pretty bottles. She remained until her color returned to normal and breathing returned and slowed. She turned away slowly, oh it was so hard, so slowly strolling to the edge of the market. Becky pulled at her arm to see them. Oh yes, very fine, they giggled. Hammered silver with garnets.
She shifted with the market crowds towards the Coppers, to have a few more moments with the treasure. They were pretty, too fine for the common girl she was. Five minutes passed, then ten. With a heavy sigh she pushed herself back to the crowds, looking for the Lady. Weaving slowly, duck here, slide there so as not to be noticed, she soon stood at the Lady’s elbow.
“Pardon me, Madame,” nervous tremor in her voice, “I think you dropped these.” She tried not to make it sound like a question. The Lady regarded her cooly, but she was used to this. They sometimes get suspicious, thinking her a thief ready to ask for a reward. She never did.
“I think you are mistaken,” the Lady’s cool voice shocked Lisa. What game was this? She looked the Lady over again, yes, this was the right one! Her empty ribbon fluttered at her hip, her indifference plain. Lisa only swallowed and backed away. She did not understand, the silver set was too fine to just give away.
She did not notice the heavy hands on her shoulders. “Cooperate, Lass, and you’ll be fine,” he growled, guiding her shoulders to make her walk south. Her feet obeyed, hands clutching the mirror and comb. At an abandoned tower he stopped, pushing her down to sit. “Now Lass, you got some quick fingers,” his gravelly voice spoke down to her. She reminded herself he was not her father, forced her chin up to face him. “We are impressed, really, we are,” he continued, a creepy smile on his unshaven face. She only swallowed, her hands sweaty on the ill-gotten goods. “Ya know who we are, lass?” he leered, but she shook her head. She had an idea, but kept quiet. “Well, you’ll get to know soon enough.”
He lifted her up by the elbow, walking her east. Through a few alleys into an unmarked door, he sat her roughly at the empty table. She felt dizzy. This could not be happening. She was only a common girl, no one paid attention to the locksmith's daughter. The Lady showed again, gracing her with a warm smile. They spoke of their club, the local thieves guild. She cursed her fingers, noticing the mirror and comb were still in her hands. They wanted her to join.
But she tried to give the silver set back! Through her fright, she refused. She was no thief! They did not like that answer. The leering brute bound her hands to the chair she sat in, the silver set on the table beside her. They wished she reconsider. She lowered her head to hide her anger. When she thought they were no longer watching, and indeed they were not, she tested the ropes. Not too tight, but not very loose. She patiently worked at her bindings.
An hour or two later, she could not remember, she wriggled free. The guildhouse was empty, the silver set on the table. May as well take it. After rubbing feeling back into her wrists, she took the set and ran. The lock was simple to pick, she made it herself two months ago. She would have laughed if she were not so frightened.
Her father told her she had to leave. He refused the gifts, reminding her it would only land him in more trouble than he was in already. She grabbed an extra set of clothes, a kitchen knife, darts and some gold.
Reluctantly she headed north.
Becky left her to watch from the other side of the market. Everyone blamed the hin when they lost something, so she never stole. But it did not stop her from enjoying Lisa’s pranks. Lisa moved a little closer, adjusting her skirts.
Standing right next to the Lady, her hand hidden by her hips, Lisa forgot to breathe as she oh so slowly pulled the ribbon holding the comb and mirror. The Lady continued to look over the fine potions in the market. First the comb slipped away into Lisa’s apron, then the mirror.
The Lady turned away to look over another stall, Lisa continued to face the array of pretty bottles. She remained until her color returned to normal and breathing returned and slowed. She turned away slowly, oh it was so hard, so slowly strolling to the edge of the market. Becky pulled at her arm to see them. Oh yes, very fine, they giggled. Hammered silver with garnets.
She shifted with the market crowds towards the Coppers, to have a few more moments with the treasure. They were pretty, too fine for the common girl she was. Five minutes passed, then ten. With a heavy sigh she pushed herself back to the crowds, looking for the Lady. Weaving slowly, duck here, slide there so as not to be noticed, she soon stood at the Lady’s elbow.
“Pardon me, Madame,” nervous tremor in her voice, “I think you dropped these.” She tried not to make it sound like a question. The Lady regarded her cooly, but she was used to this. They sometimes get suspicious, thinking her a thief ready to ask for a reward. She never did.
“I think you are mistaken,” the Lady’s cool voice shocked Lisa. What game was this? She looked the Lady over again, yes, this was the right one! Her empty ribbon fluttered at her hip, her indifference plain. Lisa only swallowed and backed away. She did not understand, the silver set was too fine to just give away.
She did not notice the heavy hands on her shoulders. “Cooperate, Lass, and you’ll be fine,” he growled, guiding her shoulders to make her walk south. Her feet obeyed, hands clutching the mirror and comb. At an abandoned tower he stopped, pushing her down to sit. “Now Lass, you got some quick fingers,” his gravelly voice spoke down to her. She reminded herself he was not her father, forced her chin up to face him. “We are impressed, really, we are,” he continued, a creepy smile on his unshaven face. She only swallowed, her hands sweaty on the ill-gotten goods. “Ya know who we are, lass?” he leered, but she shook her head. She had an idea, but kept quiet. “Well, you’ll get to know soon enough.”
He lifted her up by the elbow, walking her east. Through a few alleys into an unmarked door, he sat her roughly at the empty table. She felt dizzy. This could not be happening. She was only a common girl, no one paid attention to the locksmith's daughter. The Lady showed again, gracing her with a warm smile. They spoke of their club, the local thieves guild. She cursed her fingers, noticing the mirror and comb were still in her hands. They wanted her to join.
But she tried to give the silver set back! Through her fright, she refused. She was no thief! They did not like that answer. The leering brute bound her hands to the chair she sat in, the silver set on the table beside her. They wished she reconsider. She lowered her head to hide her anger. When she thought they were no longer watching, and indeed they were not, she tested the ropes. Not too tight, but not very loose. She patiently worked at her bindings.
An hour or two later, she could not remember, she wriggled free. The guildhouse was empty, the silver set on the table. May as well take it. After rubbing feeling back into her wrists, she took the set and ran. The lock was simple to pick, she made it herself two months ago. She would have laughed if she were not so frightened.
Her father told her she had to leave. He refused the gifts, reminding her it would only land him in more trouble than he was in already. She grabbed an extra set of clothes, a kitchen knife, darts and some gold.
Reluctantly she headed north.
