Two Cats

Chapter 5

I like to rethink my actions after the fact, make certain I haven't missed anything.

Well, perhaps 'like' is too strong a word.

I take comfort in the fact that my brain is constantly working away after committing a burglary or heist for political purposes, reconsidering my decisions that led to the act of thievery, wondering if anything that I did was out of the ordinary.

You know ... worrying.

And I suppose I don't really “take comfort” so much as convince myself that making myself sick with worry is a good sign, because it means that I'm not relaxed or complacent about-

Okay, I hate it.

Being plagued with self-doubt after you've done something that commits you to a certain course of action is a feeling that I've learned to live with, if not enjoy, as a natural consequence of coming up with intricate and overly involved plans. It kind of makes your stomach flip around in unusual ways, knowing that all your effort hinges on things going in the manner you've predicted.

There were so many unknown factors. Who was trying to steal the goblet from me in the first place? Were they any good? Did they lack the skill to penetrate my keep's defenses and security? Oh sure, given enough time and effort anyone can be robbed, but did I really know if my unknown antagonist was going to be able to pull this thing off? I'm no pushover when it comes to security, and some of my surprises can be lethal to an unskilled intruder.

What was worse was the fact that I couldn't overtly assist the person who was stealing from me. Making my place easier to break into would raise suspicions, possibly tip my hand. Putting out extra security would better preserve the illusion, but what if they lacked the skill to overcome my additional defenses and steal what I was expecting them to steal?

Or, what if they were after both goblets? My eyes flicked over to my dresser to reassure myself that the box containing the original goblet, which I didn't wish to be stolen, was still there. I wanted it within sight of me for the entire evening, in my bedchamber, the most secure place in my keep.

Were they even really after the goblet? What if my assumption was wrong? Had I broken into the keep of a very powerful Lord for nothing? Worse yet, if the thief was not actually after the goblet I had borrowed from Greybridge, how was I going to return the one I had stolen back to him?

And so I was nervous as hell when the hour was finally upon me, the window of opportunity that Theodore had been told the theft would be done during. There was nothing to do but wait and silently pray that my unknown enemy was after what I believed them to be after, and that they were accomplished enough to pull it off.

I had fetched a book from the library, which was part of the vault, my books falling into the category of things that I value above all else. I figured I could use some distraction, given my current state of mind.

Lying in bed in my chambers, I tried to focus on the words of an amusing story written by Lord Heukren, a most capable storyteller. The book was very old, so old that the leather had begun to split and crack around the glyph of the family name stamped on the spine, an interestingly designed symbol depicting a fishhook and a bird.

Two hours later, I firmly concluded once more that reading to distract myself just doesn't work when I'm that keyed up. I don't even know why I continue to try.

I kept wondering if it had happened yet, or if it was currently going on. In addition to all the intricate plans that could suddenly go awry and leave me in an awkward situation, there was something inherently troubling about someone breaking into your keep, even if you were expecting such a thing to happen. The idea of someone creeping about the halls of the place I called home doesn't sit well with me. It's disturbing, and creates a feeling of vulnerability.