Steal the Stars [REWRITING]

Annabelle - Setting Off Towards Death

After our last job, I wouldn't have been surprised if we were never offered another. It usually wasn't a good thing when the person you stole from knew about it; though, we had managed to escape with the papers, and it wasn't as if he knew who it was. Besides, guards weren't big on coming down to this part of the city. There'd likely be no investigation, but if word got out, our reputation would go with it.

James and I had been bickering when the innkeeper had come back over to tell us we were wanted. Leo and Nicole had disappeared (probably sick of us) and while James finished his breakfast, I ran off to find them. With a few parting insults to James, of course. It was good for him–and nothing he hadn't said to me. Besides, if he was going to just sit there and eat while I did all the work, then he deserved it.

The section of the inn we met the stranger in was secluded, a few chairs arranged away from the fireplace and the bustling tables. His cloak mostly covered his face, which clearly marked him as out of place. Certain people wore masks, and were known for it, but a stranger who wore a cloak to cover their face was usually someone far better-off who didn't want anyone to know they were down there. Often, James and I knew a lot of the people who came–and the people they wanted us to take from. They never recognized us. I wondered if it was almost blissful, being so ignorant they couldn't recognize a boy and girl they'd seen at their own balls just a few years ago.

The man that had called for us leaned casually back in his chair, confident and cocky; his elaborate cane leaned against his chair. He reminded me of James. It was unusual for the usual ritzy type we got here, who were always nervous and shifty and eager to leave. I didn't recognize this man, either, though he could have run in a different circle than my mother's. "So," he said. "I suppose I should go over the terms."

We stared blankly at him. Well, duh, I thought, Isn't that why we're here?

He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly in his chair. "The queen's jewels. I need you–or rather, someone–to steal them."

That got our attention.

"Are you crazy?"

"That's a death wish!"

"How much are you offering?"

Nicole stared.

The man smiled, an oily smile that made me think of a snake. Clearly, this man was one, and I didn't trust him for a minute. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to trust anyone here, but mostly people just wanted some spare cash–how could I blame anyone for that? But what did I have to lose, anymore? If we could pull this off, it'd probably at least boost our reputation (whether it took a hit or not, that was never a bad thing). "I'm not crazy," he said, "and the price I'm offering is enough to make you forget any reservations you may have."

"How much?" James demanded again. He leaned forward in his chair and propped his chin up on his knuckles as he stared at the man intently. Of course, James would be vocal about wanting the money.

"Two hundred million julits."

"Maybe more than the jewels themselves are worth," James breathed, sounding awed. He sat back in his chair again and focused on the ceiling. I figured he was busy dreaming about what he would do with that type of money. Honestly, I was too. I mean, think of the dresses.

"Quite right. The jewels are only worth about one hundred million julits. The kingdom has far more valuable things. These are important in tradition only." He sounded like one of my old tutors, except more pretentious. He looked immensely pleased that he knew this and we didn't and I was tempted to tell him to grow up. I mean, he was probably twenty or more years older than us. I would hope that he knew about the job he was offering us.