The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 1: A Burglary in Broad Daylight

Arran Dir Akhta perched on the roof of Villa D'Ohara and peeked over the edge at the sunlit patio below, where two guards slouched against white marble pillars in the late afternoon heat. One of them fished a colorful fan out of his pocket in an attempt to enjoy some cool air, although the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip only seemed to increase in number. Arran's heightened senses picked up the vague stench of sweat on the warm breeze, and he scrunched his nose in disgust.

Focus. He continued to scan the open window frames, the patio doors and the balconies on the higher floors, memorizing the guards' positions and the blind spots in their vigilance. Most of Primsharah's criminals would think him a fool for robbing a house in broad daylight, but Arran found that most security guards were the least observant during hallup, when many shopkeepers and workers took a well-earned siesta until the sun started lowering again in the early evening. Guards naturally weren't granted the peace and quiet of a siesta, but that didn't stop them from napping in a standing position to fight the boredom of their job. Besides, Arran needed the sunlight to perform his usual trick which made him such an excellent burglar.

He shuffled across the reddish roof tiles, closer to a small balcony that led to the villa's right wing. The balcony itself was too cramped for a guard to be stationed, but he didn't doubt that one was lurking right behind the shutters that closed off the doorway. Blinking, he switched to what he called his Aura Vision, which allowed him to perceive energy and detect auras in a kaleidoscope of colors. Indeed, another guard's yellow aura swirled almost exactly below his feet. The aura's brightness suggested that it was a rather young man. A complacent grin tugged at the corner's of Arran's mouth, for younger guards were usually easier targets to take out. They weren't as experienced with magic-wielding burglars such as himself in the way that some older guards were.

Arran turned his face upward to the sun, relishing its soft, warm kisses on his skin. The wind played with the dark locks of his hair while he slowed down his breathing and concentrated on his own aura, orange like the furs of the tigers which lived in the Lelian Jungle. He moulded it into a protective coating wrapped tight around his body.

As a child, he had discovered his ability to reflect and distort light by accident, when he had hidden himself from his angry mother and her favorite weapon: a rolling pin. Years later, when he had begun to steal, it had turned out to be a handy talent in that particular line of work. How many thieves would pay hundreds of gold coins for the ability to become invisible at will?

Careful, Arran lowered himself onto the balcony. Years of experience had made his feet more soundless than a cat's paws; the guard behind the shutters was still ignorant of his presence. Arran reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a stone the size of a small pearl. With pinpoint accuracy, he tossed the stone at an oil lamp resting on a windowsill about five paces away. A melodious clank echoed in the simmering air, too soft for the guards on the patio to notice, but loud enough to draw the young guard's attention. The guard's aura moved away from the shutters as he went to investigate the source of the noise, and Arran slipped inside the house unseen.

He sneaked down the long corridor, trusting his magical coating to hide him from suspicious eyes. The villa's interior was much more luxurious than its architecture let on, which was a common trait shared by many nobles' houses. The wall decorations alternated between large paintings in bright hues and magnificent tapestries with intricate patterns, woven from the most expensive of fabrics. Gritting his teeth, Arran contemplated how much even one of these tapestries would be worth on the black market if only he could carry it. Despite his tall, lean figure and broad shoulders, he knew from experience that stealing tapestries was a two-man job.

He proceeded down the corridor toward the master bedroom, which he had identified as such during one of his earlier observations of the villa. Not one but two guards flanked the curtained doorway; the owners of this house must keep quite the treasure in that room. Arran's heart leapt with excitement. The guards didn't notice him, of course; however, they might if he just tried to pass through the beaded curtain without distracting them first. He looked around the corridor and grinned when his eye fell upon a mirror. It hung on the wall opposite the guards, a bit to the left. Perfect.