59. The Society of Night (V) (Patreon)

Shadows

While I teamed up with Mailyn whenever we had pairs contests, that was only about half of them. The other half of the 'gambits' we did with the Society of Night involved outright theft. Our job on these nights was to break into establishments without damaging anything and to steal as much of value as possible - that's to say we were straightforward cat burglars. Each new Sneak paired with a more experienced sneak and each member of the pair took turns either acting as lookout or being the person to actually go in and steal valuables. As you might expect, the two new Sneaks with the lowest haul at the end of the night ended up on laundry detail - a group that included me about half of the time. I wasn't a bad thief by any means but, as we've already established, I had stiff competition.

Now… before you ask: yes, the Collegium knew exactly what we were doing. In fact, what we were doing is entirely legal under Florian law. In brief, there's a list of forbidden businesses that the Night Society must never steal from, either because they have political connections or are simply too dangerous. All other establishments are fair game. The caveat is that the Sneak or Greycloak who steals the goods must scrupulously log when and where they took said goods and leave a token behind for the business owner to use. The thief then brings the items to the Collegium Assessor's office, where they're paid for the goods (just over one percent of the wholesale value) and the Collegium decides to either use the goods or hold them in escrow. If the burglarized shop owner shows up at the assessor's office, they can present their receipts for the purchase of the goods to either receive their goods back or be compensated the wholesale value in cash.

I've seen the accounts and the Collegium makes a tidy profit in this venture - about one in ten merchants never show up to claim their stolen goods, usually because they don't have receipts. Usually because some of those seized goods are smuggled merchandise. You might even say the Society of Night does Floria a valuable service by discouraging smuggling… mostly, though, we just wanted to get paid.

"I reckon this is worth two kronettas if it's worth a copper. Okay, your turn, Vix. What are you feeling?" Leo asked. He was three years older than me, a Sneak on the cusp of becoming a Greycloak by most estimates, and my senior partner for the evening. He'd just hauled a sack of goods out of a tobacconist's shop… he swore they were more likely to have illicit items due to kachta smuggling, though I've never seen any proof of that.

I looked down the way - we were near the northwestern tip of the Captain's Canton, a popular spot among the society, both for its plentiful alleyways, easily-accessible roofs, and surfeit of low-end traders without much security. Leo thought he had a sure thing with his haul from the tobacconist's, but I had a better idea: clothes. Even a mid-end clothing boutique would have easy octavos in stock and it would all be easy to carry out, assuming I could get in. I didn't care whether or not anything I stole was smuggled - that affected the Collegium's bottom line, not mine.

"That one," I said.

Leo was skeptical. "The Fairweather Florian?"

"I have a feeling," I said.

"Okay, well let's see if this feeling of yours pays off."

I nodded and got to work. You see, the trick to breaking into a semi-secured building is to confound the expectations of the people protecting it. To wit: I leapt across from the roof next door and lowered myself to the little garden box overlooking the second story window, being careful not to crush the poinsettias I found there.

Most people think the way to break into a building is to sneak in through the back, but that's almost always a fool's errand. Shop owners aren't idiots (at least most of them aren't) - they know the back entrance (if there is one) is out of sight, and they know most of their inventory is stored in the back (if there is one). Therefore, the more secure lock on any store is almost always in the back. That's not to say front entrances are simple to get into. They're usually in plain view of the street and trapped with something designed to both draw attention and alert the shopkeeper - usually a flashbang, but sometimes a more aggressive alchemical trap. No, the easiest way into a store is through the residential part of the upstairs, since the owner or tenant is generally inside and they assume that, first, the relative inaccessibility of the upper floors will discourage entry by thieves and, second, that they'll wake up if somebody should break in.

I worked at the window - I worked at it slowly, being sure to make no more than a single solitary creak every thirty seconds or so. If somebody was awake to hear the sounds, they wouldn't associate it with somebody's frantic attempts to jimmy open the window. The window wasn't even fully latched - fortunate, because I hadn't yet mastered the subtle art of opening an interior latch from the outside. My lift-pull-push motions gradually undid the loose latch and let me lift the window a crack, and then a centimeter at a time until there was just enough to slide an arm under. Then I dropped into the Shadelands and squeezed myself through, swallowing down my bile of fear as I pushed myself through the semi-space of the shadows. Since the geometry of the world is questionable, even malleable, from the Shadelands, it's possible to fit through spaces that would normally be impassable. It's said that true masters of the craft can fit through spaces that couldn't fit your pinkie finger. I can now confirm that this is true, but back when I was a Sneak, I wasn't anywhere close yet. But I could squeeze under ten centimeters of open window.

I waited until I was on the floor to shift back out of the Shadelands, finding myself in the small parlor of the shop's owner. It also appeared to be a workshop, to judge by the treadle sewing machine in the corner and the several unfinished projects draped over wooden mannequins. A plain but well-made dress in violet, the kind a clerk or notary might wear. Two evening jackets, one for a gentleman and one for either a lady or a slim young man with a taste for sequins. And something that was too early in production for me to guess at - my guess is that it would become an evening gown.

For my first time in the Society of Night, I felt a pang of guilt: this was a merchant who made his or her own wares. Whatever I stole would be assessed at the value of the clothes but, unless the merchant had bothered to charge their own shop for their hourly labor (it's recommendable, but virtually no businesses do), they could only get compensated for their receipts on the raw materials. Unless somebody was soft-hearted back in the Collegium Assessor's office (highly unlikely), I would effectively be stealing dozens of hours of labor and handing it to the Collegium. But I'd already broken into the place, so I might as well see what was about.

The first thing I did was help myself to a tin of semiprecious stones near the evening-gown-in-progress. Those were raw materials and could be claimed for their full wholesale value, perhaps an octavo for the tin. Conscience abated. I also noted that there was a tiny bobbin of glimsilk, almost empty, near the workstation. If there were full bobbins downstairs, they'd be worth stealing, too. From there, I crept to the door to the downstairs, pressing my thumb against the interior disinvigoration pad to disable the alarm and then slowly unlocking the door. From there, I made my way downstairs - again, very slowly. Slowly enough that any little creaks or cracks I made might be attributed to the settling of the building. From there, my options were fairly straightforward: either help myself to the front of the store or the back. I considered the effort of carefully removing an entire outfit from a mannequin versus lifting something that was already boxed and folded. Really, it was a question of how well-secured the inventory room in the back was.

Faint moonlight streamed through the front windows, barely enough to see by with dark-adjusted vision. I could see quite a bit better in the Shadelands, though details were still questionable. Five… no… six mannequins with various outfits. Four women's and two men's. A counter with a cash till that was almost certainly empty. Two small rugs… one of them bearskin, strangely enough. A small area, partitioned off with linen shades for changing and alterations. And several small drawers. Crept over to the drawers and slid the top one open - it was filled with nice bags and tissue paper for customers to carry clothes home. I didn't bother with the other drawers - I was going into the back.

This was my third-ever burglary with the Society, so I was basically an expert at this point. I knew how to sneak into places, I knew how to sneak around places, and I knew how to pick locks. I'd added lock-picking practice to my morning routine to break the monotony of reading, calisthenics, and journal-keeping, and I… wasn't terrible. I wasn't good, either. It takes years to get good at lockpicking, to say nothing of thaumaturgical locks. And virtually every lock worth locking in Floria has a few magical bells and whistles. The lock to the Fairweather Florian's back room looked impressive, but it was a five-octavo lock with a thaumaturgical trap and a tripwire triggered to go off the moment the invigorated thaum was discharged. It was a simple but effective system… provided that somebody didn't have enough thaum to bridge the circuit.

I pulled out my pick set, popped a squat, and got to work on the lock, paying careful attention to the fluctuations in the lock's enchantment, passing a little thaum in whenever it dropped and otherwise just concentrating on the lock. It took me about ten minutes to crack the lock - patience is a virtue - at which point I cycled thaum into the lock, eased the door open, and closed the lock again with no issue beyond draining most of my thaum. The lock made a louder click than I'd have liked when it closed, so I sat silent for a minute, steadying myself and listening. Creaks in the house, the muffled sounds of the nighttime street, the faint murmur of distant thunder, and the sigh of my own breathing predominated.

Default tripwire enchantments like that can be greedy bastards, but I'd expected as much. I crept into the back, a narrow corridor lined on either side with cabinets and armoires, a few of which had locks with smaller tripwire traps. That's where I knew the valuable stuff would be kept…

Opening the traps was a lot less costly than the main door, but it took me a good five minutes to open each, and I only had enough outer thaum for maybe three of them before I started to grow achy and woozy from depletion. I tried my hand at the big armoire, finding it full of completed dresses and two bolts of carmine red Kronojic silk, which I took. The next were tailored men's trousers with matching leather shoes - I took the shoes, since I doubted the tailor had made those herself. My third and last drawer contained…

"Ah!" I yelped and fell back on my behind. My low thaum had started to fluctuate and very nearly triggered the trap instead of defusing it. The thing had sparkled and hissed for a second but ultimately didn't go off.

I listened for a second and took a peek back into the main boutique. Six mannequins. A counter with a cash till. The rug. The linen shades. Nobody alerted, and nothing out of place. I returned to the drawer I'd nearly failed to unlock and - bingo! - five small bobbins of glimsilk. The Collegium could always use more glimsilk - they used reams of the stuff in their artificed sails. I stuffed it into my sack and…

"Grrrr…" a growling, woolly thing came padding into the room, completely filling the narrow corridor.

Right… I'd forgotten about the 'bearskin rug'. It wasn't a rug at all, but a large, coarse-haired dog, and I'd just stirred him from his slumber. I froze. My first instinct was to drop into the Shadelands, but my outer thaum was just about gone. I could maybe manage a few seconds dropping into that shadow realm, and I'd have hours of nausea and headache as a result. Instead, I took an alternative tract.

"Nice doggy," I whispered. The dog padded forward, its dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. The thing probably weighed more than I did, even if you shaved him naked. It plopped itself down and sprawled out, exposing its belly to me. "You want a belly rub?" The dog's expectant look suggested that, yes, it did. Its fur was thick and coarse, prickling my fingers as I petted it. It really did feel like a bearskin rug. "Oh, who's a good boy? Who's so good?" I said. His satisfied panting suggested that it was he, the bear-furred dog, who was such a good boy. "Oh, so good!"

"Um… Furman? Is that you?" a voice called down from the top of the stairs. Then, slowly, she started down the steps. "Furrybear?"

Oops. I'd made too much noise. It couldn't be helped - I'd made a dog-friend. I patted the dog's… Furman's tummy one last time and whispered, "Can you go say 'hi' to mommy for me?"

With just the slightest reluctance, Furman rolled to his feet and padded out to the bottom of the stairs, letting out a little whufwhen he saw the shop owner half-way down the stairs. That was my cue to leave - she still might come downstairs, after all. I padded over to the back exit - two locks, both of them magical. Thankfully, not expensive or complicated ones. Both of them could be disarmed from the inside by a disinvigoration pad, which I did without hesitation. Then, listening to make certain I didn't have to hurry things up, I slowly turned the locks, slowly grabbed the door handle, and slowly opened it into the night, thunder still murmuring in the distance. Then, realizing I'd forgotten something, I took a bright red collegium chit, noted its stamped number, and placed it on the floor - the proprietor would need that to reclaim or be compensated for her stolen property.

I scampered out into the night, waving to Leo, still keeping faithful watch upon the roof next door. By the time the proprietor started shouting at poor Furman for being a lousy guard dog (poor guy - I just happen to be good with animals), Leo and I were well on our way back to the Society's rendezvous point near the old pewtersmith's guild house.

Tonight was a bit unusual in that Meridia Rhim, the Greycloak in charge of the whole Society of Night, was present and running our little crew's operations. We waited around a bit for Ramses and his older Sneak partner to show up… so at least I wasn't the one holding everything up. Then Meridia conferred with Aria and Tollen, the two other Greycloaks in our little group, and then conferred with the senior Sneaks paired with each of us newbies.

"Okay, each of you turn out your bags and let's see what you've got," Meridia said, pacing the dilapidated colonnade of the guild house as we sprang into action. "Sneak-adepts, I've paired you with these five because I'll likely be graduating soon and you'll likely be Greycloaks, the next crop of leaders in our august Society. The first requirement for an initiate to become an adept is to infiltrate and escape a secure and inhabited location without being seen. Have your Sneak-initiates been successful in this?"

"More or less," one of the older Sneaks said.

"Oh? What happened?" Meridia asked, pacing over to her.

"Ramses triggered a trap on his way out and alerted the house, but it didn't interfere with his getting away unseen."

"Hmm…" Meridia stopped in front of Ramses, frowning through her mask. "Our bylaws only say unseen. I'm not happy, but I'll allow it. No other near misses?"

I glanced toward Leo. He could well have volunteered that the owner of the Fairweather Florian had raised a ruckus about thirty seconds after I left the place, but he decided to stay mum. Good man.

"Excellent. I am pleased," Meridia state. "The second requirement is that at least one kronetta of goods be taken. I see… yes… yes… most of those are just trinkets, so we'll have to see the assessor," she said to Aldo.

"Oh…" Aldo said, and handed Meridia a clunky, gold-plated pocket watch.

"That'll more than do," Meridia said. "Yes, and hmm… shoes. And yarn?"

"Fabric," I said. "Semiprecious stones. And glimsilk, probably two octavos a bobbin."

Meridia ran her fingers along the regular silk. "Kronojic silk, good quality," she said. "These are all raw materials…"

"I, um. I didn't want to steal the clothes."

"I see," Meridia says. "Sentimentality is a weakness, Sneak."

"Yes, boss," I said.

"That said, the rule is one kronetta worth, and I count this at about one and a half. So yes. Passes all around - you're no longer initiates but adepts. Full members of the Society of Night." Meridia popped the cork on a pilfered bottle of wine and took a swig before passing it to Aria. "Everybody take a drink!"

"So… no more laundry detail?" Aldo asked.

"I never said that, Sneak. It just means no more contests to see who has to do it. Don't worry, though - soon enough, you won't be the junior Sneaks anymore and laundry honors will go to somebody else. In the meanwhile, who would you suggest goes first, Aria?"

Aria's expression went devious (at least from what I could see of her eyes) and she turned to me. I was so sure she was going to assign me that I gasped at what she actually said: "As you become more senior, you'll have to learn to delegate. Vix… who do you assign to the next laundry detail?"

As I said, I gasped, but I quickly schooled my expression. "That's a poison-handled blade you've just handed me," I said. I looked toward Aldo, wiggling my eyebrows.

"You wouldn't!" he gasped. It was a bit amusing, so it was easy to smirk - we were all going to have to do detail rotations for the time being, so what did it matter if it was tomorrow or next week?

"Oh yes," I said. "For our first laundry detail as adepts, I choose… myself. And Nima."

"What?!"

Did she honestly think I was going to pick Mailyn?