Thief
A SnowPunk + Anti-Hero SF story by SicSemperT-Rex
When you first meet someone, the first thing they tell you is their name. What an absolute load of shit. Nobody cares. You want to know how I know? People spend their entire lives trying to make a name for themselves: they go off and be a soldier, or a priest, or any number of bullshit callings, thinking that they're going to make certain that they're going to be remembered for centuries to come. You know what actually end up happening? They turn into worm meal. Even if you are one of the miraculous few who manages to make a dent in this world of ours, you're not going to be remembered for it. You know who will be, though? The lord who sat there on his fat, lazy ass and watched you do all the work. Nobody remembers the men who laid siege, who watched their friends die around them, who wondered what would happen to their families if they died, or if they failed to hold the enemy back. Nobody gives a damn about them, but the lords and kings who valiantly lead them from their comfy tents? People will remember those assholes for eternity.
No: I don't care much for names. Or the people they belong to. Symptom of seeing just how shitty people can be to one another, I guess.
Of course, I ain't much of a saint, myself. After all, I make damn good money from bastards wanting to get ahead of other bastards.
The bastard in question that night was Gaioz Tepesh. Definitely not my favorite client: he was always trying to get chummy with me, no matter how many times I tried to make it clear that we weren't friends. I didn't keep friends: they had a way of stabbing you in the back when you needed them the most. Gaioz was cheeky, obnoxious, far too laxed for my tastes. I didn't trust him to keep a secret any more than I could throw his fat ass.
"Jani, my boy!" Gaioz said in that jovial way of his as he approached me. As always, I was sitting at the bar in The Wolfhound, the sort of place where people saw nothing and heard nothing. The only place I liked meeting clients. "It's been far too long!"
I chugged down the rest of my ale. I was going to need it to deal with-
That was when he did the thing. The gesture he performed that I hated most of all.
He slapped me on the back.
I turned around, pulled out my pistol, and shoved it into his stomach while grabbing him by the back of his neck and pulling him closer faster than he could've eaten another sweet roll. "Do that again, and I'll make you squeal like the pig you are!"
Gaioz laughed, as if he thought that it was some swell joke. The look in his eyes that made me wonder if he'd actually wet himself, that time, said otherwise. "Come now, Jani: do you really have to be so sour?"
"Yes." I put my gun back in its holster and shoved him away from me, making him stumble backwards. "And stop using my name."
"Why? Do you really think anyone around here is going to turn you in?" He held his hands out, gesturing to all the people in the tavern, like a circus master showing off all the freaks under his employ to the crowds. "We're all criminals, here!"
"You wanna say that a little louder?" I growled, imagining what Gaioz's entrails might look like adorning the antler chandelier above my head. "I don't think the garrison heard you."
"Relax," Gaioz said. "The least you could do is be kind to the man trying to give you money."
I turned back to the bar and held my stein out to the barkeep. Bosko: the bear of a man who found mercenaries for people needing a job done in the cesspool known as Suurin like the village matchmaker. "More ale. Gaioz is paying."
Bosko looked to Gaioz. "That true?"
"For that pint. The rest will be on him."
Bosko nodded and filled my stein up.
"You want to get on about this job of yours?" I asked. "It better not be like last time."
"I think it's more your style, if that's what you mean." Gaioz held up a finger, and Bosko poured him some ale, as well. "You know Lord Struna?"
"Personally? No." I took a swig. "Let me guess: another poor bastard with gambling debts?"
"That's right," Gaioz said. "You sound disappointed."
"Well, you did say that this would be more my style," I said. "So far, it sounds like it's just more of your damned gambling debtors. I'm not taking your shitty job for even shittier pay."
"It's a little more than a gambling debt," Gaioz said. "Yes, he owes me. But he owes more than money. Call it collateral."
He pulled a photograph out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I looked down at it. The photograph was of some sort of artifact. An egg-like thing, with a shell of a brilliant teal color and gold vines with diamond flowers on them. I'd seen eggs like this, before, but not quite like that one. That one looked like it was fit for a king.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Does it matter?" Gaioz asked. "He's gambled most of his fortune away, and he put that thing up as collateral instead of his home. It's time for him to pay up."
"And what do I get out of this?" I asked.
"Five thousand lidas," Gaioz said. "Everything in his house is open season, as always. Keep in mind that you'll have to find a buyer for any extras, yourself."
"Of course: wouldn't want you to work too hard," I said. "What's your deadline?"
"I want it done tonight."
That particular smidge of stupid that came out of his mouth got my attention. "Tonight? You expect me to pull off a job tonight?"
"Ain't you always saying you like a challenge?"
"A challenge, sure," I said. "What you're talking about goes beyond that. You're talking about a suicide run. I'm not doing that for 5,000 damned lidas."
Gaioz sighed. "You always were particular with your jobs. Never known a mercenary as picky as you."
"Are you going to raise the offer, or are you going to stop wasting my time?"
Gaioz didn't say anything for a few seconds. "10,000 lidas. That's as good as I can do."
"10,000 lidas and open season?"
"10,000 lidas and 50/50 open season," Gaioz said.
I raised an eyebrow. "You really think I'll give you half my score?"
"Yes."
I continued to stare at him.
Gaio sighed. "Fine. 10,000 lidas, open season, under the condition that you rough him up and bring me a piece."
"Any preference on the piece I bring you?"
"Will that cost me extra?"
"Now you're catching on." I finished off my stein of ale. "Meet me back here, same time tomorrow. You'll have my payment with you, or I'm coming for you, next.
I tipped Bosko and headed off into the night.
***
Snow fell from the sky that night, as it had for the past millennia. The stories claimed that the world had once been covered in green grass, and it only snowed for part of the year. I'd even heard that it used to get hot, and that the ocean had once been liquid water, and not just a frozen field. Of course, that was just a story meant to give people hope. No: I don't think the world was once warm. Unless the changing of snowstorms counted.
The Wolfstorm was in full swing that night as I trudged towards the Struna estate. The Wolfstorm was the worst of the four storms that dominated the year: cold, no sunlight, constant wind, constant snows that fell by the bucket. It was the time of year where most people stayed inside as much as possible and prayed to the saints that they wouldn't freeze to death, only to be found when the weather finally softened and the Foxstorm arrived.
Most people hate the Wolfstorm, but it's a dream come true for people like me: the most important thing for us is to stay hidden. You don't have to try nearly as hard to stay hidden when you can't see farther than a few feet in front of you, anyway.
The Struna estate was a good size: a couple houses with two or three floors clumped together in a compound, the way the nobles liked to set up their estates. The buildings had some space between them, so they were moderately wealthy: the farther apart the buildings, the richer the people living in them were. Poor people like me practically live on top of one another: it makes sense, when the world is frozen solid. The rich, they can afford all the fuel for a fire they could ever want, so they don't feel the need to conserve heat the way the rest of us do.
Let's make something crystal clear: this has been my life for a long time. Sneaking around, stealing, breaking the occasional fingers or nose. Hell, I've killed people for the sake of a job, though it's never been part of the plan. This city has a way of making criminals out of even the best of men. I, of course, am not one of those people: you can blame environment all you want, but some people just aren't good. I've come to know a lot about sizing people up, judging how difficult a job is going to be by observations.
This job wasn't exactly going to be a challenge like I thought it was going to be, since I didn't get a proper case: the only sort of defense Struna had was a brick fence. It wasn't even that tall: climbing it wouldn't have been hard. No guards beyond the two standing at the gate, and I watched the place for two hours just to make sure. Just a bunch of people moving back and forth from that single gate. They had about ten different blindspots, and they didn't seem to care much about taking care of them.
Idiots. This was going to be their own damned fault, then.
I climbed the fence and got to work.
The Struna household wasn't any more impressive on the inside than it was on the outside. I'm a bit of a connoisseur of finery. Especially if it's small enough to fit in my knapsack. I've seen everything from dinky little trinkets to jewels worth more than the emperor. The heirlooms in this house weren't exactly impressive: paintings with the usual religious scenes, old swords, icons. There were a few spots that still bore the outlines of heirlooms that had once filled them. If Gaioz were to be believed (he loved to exaggerate things) Lord Struna had probably sold the things that had once been there to help pay for his gambling debts.
So, no: Struna was pretty poor by noble standards, and that gambling habit of his certainly wasn't helping.
I packed away some of the things I found, though I was fairly certain that the good stuff had been sold a long time ago. Small clocks, a pair of silver candlesticks, some jewelry in a safe behind a painting. Said painting, removed from its frame. None of it was worth all that much on its own, but combined, I was hoping that I would be able to get somewhere around 1,000 lidas.
All through this, I didn't run into a single soul. No guards, no members of the household; I didn't even see a damned mouse. The house seemed empty, and for a minute, I wondered whether or not there were even people in the house. Would've made the part of my job involving stealing that egg far easier, for certain.
Of course, though, there were people in the house. The bedrooms were all upstairs, just as I'd suspected: these nobles seemed to enjoy claiming that they were superior to one another while doing the exact same things as their friends. There were three bedrooms with their doors shut: two children and the parents, if I had to guess. Then, there were two guest rooms, which I made certain to pillage thoroughly. I didn't go into the two other rooms: kids had a way of ruining plans. They liked screaming, crying. On top of that, they're absolutely obnoxious.
So, instead, I carefully made my way to the master bedroom, keeping my ears trained for any noise.
I heard something: two people talking in harsh whispers.
"I don't like it, Linas," a woman said. "I don't like it one bit!"
"I know, Lilija," Linas said. "Believe me: I don't like it, either,"
"Then why are you doing this?" Lilija demanded. "You're putting all of us - myself, Gavrilo, Olja - in danger. And I don't think you know what you're doing."
Silence. I knew that I needed to get on with it, give them Gaioz's message, but I was a curious bastard, and decided to keep listening.
"I know what I'm doing," Linas said. "I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth. So long as we keep it safe, everything will be fine."
That was about when I got bored of eavesdropping; the time had arrived for me to actually do what I was there for.
I didn't bother trying to sneak into the room: I kicked the door open, instead, holding my pistols up and ready to fire.
I was used to all sorts of things from people I was robbing: screaming, crying, bargaining. The occasional hero, though most people seemed more interested in saving their own skin than anything else. These two didn't do any of the usual things: instead, they sat there in silence, eyes wide.
Good: I didn't like screaming over people.
"Who sent you?" Linas demanded. His voice was barely above a whisper. My gut told me that it was for their children's sake: kids had a way of sticking their nose where it doesn't belong, and noise was going to attract them like wolves to a fire. Last thing any parent wanted was for their kids to end up in the middle of an armed robbery.
"Gaioz." I didn't think it mattered whether or not someone knew who put a job out on them: odds were, they already had a good idea. "Says it's time to pay up on those debts of yours."
Lilija looked to her husband, her face falling. She didn't look surprised: disappointed, for sure. The wives always acted shocked, but deep down, they knew the score. Either that, or they were really just that stupid.
"Why?" That was all she managed to say.
Linas didn't say anything to her. "What does he want?"
"Take a guess: your collateral," I said.
His face paled.
"Linas, what did you put up for collateral?" Lilija asked.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I didn't know what it was. Honestly, Lilija."
Judging by the way she seemed to die inside, she knew exactly what it was.
"No." She looked up at me. "No: you can't take it! How much does he owe? We'll pay it. Plus interest!"
"I'll tell you what," I said. "Do you have 10,000 lidas here?"
Neither of them said anything. Lilija looked about ready to kill her husband.
"And you'll leave once we give it to you?" Linas asked. "Without hurting my family."
I gave a curt nod.
"Alright. Alright." Linas stood up and walked over to a dresser, pulling a key out from under his nightshirt.
He unlocked the dresser and pulled out the egg.
He cradled it in his hands like a baby as he carried it over. It was about the size of his fist, looked like the photograph Gaioz had shown me. Except a hell of a lot more detailed. There was some sort of scene engraved in the enamel surface that I couldn't see in the photo. I couldn't tell what it was supposed to be: it didn't look like any of the usual scenes.
I tossed it into my knapsack. Egg: check. Everything I could find that was worth a damn? Check.
Only one thing left.
I pulled my knife out from its scabbard. "There's just... one more thing. Before I go."
Linas stood in front of his wife. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!"
"Your family? No." I gently ran the blade against my finger, looking down at the shining steel. "Gaioz wants to make sure that we don't have this problem, again. Not with you, or anyone else who might decide to test him."
Linas began to shake his head, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to breathe out of water. He looked to be on the verge of tears. "No. No, no, no..."
"Don't be so worried: I only need a piece," I said. "If you're good, I might even let you pick what I take."
Linas didn't say anything. Silent tears were already falling, streaking his cheeks.
Looks like I would get to pick, once again.
***
It was nearly morning by the time I got back home. Home being the basement of a carpenter's shop. Bosko had gotten it for me and my roommate, as a reward for the steady business we brought through his door. He was the one people went to when they needed something less than legal done in Suurin; he set sell swords up with clients. We were all pretty damned loyal to him, and he treated us well. Those of us who did our work well, anyway.
There were also a few civilians around town who worked for him. Ordinary people like the carpenter above us. They gave services to Bosko's favorites in exchange for Bosko's protection. Far better than paying dues to a gang: they didn't have to pay Bosko any money, and everyone - even the city garrison - knew they were untouchable. Good for them, even better for me: I got to live in comfort with just one, sometimes two other people instead of the cramped hell that the slums were.
From the looks of things, I wasn't the only one who'd had work, that night. Petya Stasyuk, my roommate, was cleaning her rifle: she had it completely taken apart, the pieces spread out neatly in front of her, as well as all of her cleaning supplies. She was working on her bayonet when I walked in, and judging by the red tint to the water in the basin in front of her, she'd actually used it, that night.
"Have fun?" I asked as I walked in, setting my pack down. It jingled as I did.
Petya looked up, her curly hair bouncing as she did. "Not as much as you, from the sound of it." She pointed at my pack with the bayonet. "Who was it, this time?"
"Struna. Bastard made the mistake of running up gambling debts with Gaioz." I plopped down and opened my pack to start sorting my loot. "Kill 'em or scare 'em?"
"Bit of both. You'll probably hear about it, tomorrow."
Of course. We all had our specialties: for me, it was stealing; for Petya, it was killing. Specifically, getting to people that were supposed to be untouchable from a rooftop a klick away without leaving a trace. For a price, of course: everybody has a price. And most people couldn't afford hers.
I continued my unpacking and my sorting. "I take it that Indrek's off on business."
Petya grunted in confirmation. "The garrison man, again. Might as well live with each other at this point."
I pulled out the small leather pouch where I kept pieces of people whenever the job called for it. A standard piece of equipment for a mercenary.
"Let me guess: the tip of Struna's left index finger?" Petya asked. She didn't even look up from her bayonet.
I rubbed the back of my neck. "That predictable, huh?"
"I'm pretty sure that when Gaioz asked for a piece, he meant something a little more extensive."
"And I'm pretty certain that Gaioz didn't pay me enough to dictate any of that," I said. "He's lucky I even took this job: the bastard didn't even give me the time to do a proper case, you know."
"Oh, boo hoo: saints forbid your jobs make you work for your money, for once."
I rolled my eyes as I pulled out the egg and began to examine it. Even then, I knew that there was something off about it. The Strunas seemed to think the same thing. What was it that the husband had said when I'd asked for it? The only reason he'd put it up for collateral was because he hadn't realized what it was?
It was right about then that I realized that Petya was staring at me. More specifically, she was looking at the egg.
"What the hell is that?" She asked.
"Dunno," I said as I continued to inspect the egg. "Gaoiz had it as collateral. Seemed pretty damned special when I took it. What do you think it is?"
Petya shook her head. "I wouldn't know."
Now Petya is a good liar. In fact, she's a damned good liar. But, you get to know a person well enough over a long enough amount of time, you start to be able to see things about a person that nobody else can. Sometimes, not even themselves. Petya was lying about that: she had some pretty distinct ideas about what that thing was.
I got the feeling that it wouldn't be long before I found out for myself.