The Trinket Job

"He is a fool, the man who discounts the old. Thievery is an art, and like all of its kind it takes long years to master. Beware the old thief, for he has forgotten more than the young have learned." - Excerpt from the Good Thief's Guide to Tyrosh

~~

There were a fair few moving parts to consider, all in all. Cossomo's lead had brought a surge of energy up in Myranda, and they sat there, the four of them, in the drawing room of Coss' house. There would be no other word to describe it but cramped, for the old bravo had collected over his time in Tyrosh a great many curious, which was all well and good, Myranda thought, until he had guests, at which point his humble home stood near bursting apart.

"We could catch her as she comes into port." Put in Jon Jackal. "That night we steal aboard up the side and haul off with her spoils."

"Guards." Answered Myranda. "And we'd drown taking that chest back to shore."

"Guards can be dealt with."

"And water is wet. Is this the degree of knowledge a decade long span as a hired killer earns you? No shit we can deal with the guards, but no-one's putting hurt on anyone. I'm not that kind of thief." Myranda crossed her arms. "We'll do this as we have time and time before; quietly, as wind across Tyrosh."

She did not know what his expression in return to her was, could not rightly place the emotion, but she was sure it was not meant to convey anything particularly pleasant. "Comes a point where there isn't a choice but to get some red under your nails, lark; don't have to believe me, but it's worth keeping in mind."

"I've had my hands plenty red, Jon Jackal, but I won't skewer a man who's paid for delivering cargo. There's enough bad about in the world to go killing the peaceful."

"Not to mention that killing men we don't know aboard a ship from fuck-knows-where is poking at a hornet's nest. Kill even one man on that ship and who knows who his friends are? It's not worth the chaos that could follow." Cossomo picked his moment to speak well enough, diffusing any tension which might have grown in the room.

"So how's the silver getting on our pocket, then? Ask nicely?" Jon shrugged.

"Not far off." Said Myranda.

"I don't take your meaning."

"We're going to put on a show."

--

They had each been briefed on their respective roles. There had been arguments and counter-arguments, hashes and re-hashes, there had been bright gleaming moments wherein she thought they'd come together to agree and brilliant crashes when it did not turn out to the case, but finally, after long hours, they had their plan.

Any thief can pilfer come the night, but a good thief can work their craft in the daylight hours as well. Myranda intended to lift the silver right out under their nose, but first they would work in their scene.

It starts with the harbourmaster, and if you're in a port city long enough in the same circles as they were you learned to tell the honest ones from the malleable. For the right price a harbourmaster will overlook certain goings on, at least for a little while and as long as they caused little disruption in his flow of fair trade. Provided they're not immediately told to fuck off out his sight, Cossomo and Jon Jackal would don their costumes and sit in wait for the silver to be carried out for the interested party to view; for they would play the parts of dock inspectors come to carry out a cargo search, simply a precaution, they'd urge, for one can never be too careful when it came to the sanctity with the honest exchange of goods, and that, oh no, what's that? Silver from where? That, I'm afraid, is contraband. They would hope for an argument; this is an affront! It is not against the law to import silver! or Do you have any idea who I am?.

Cossomo and Jon would argue that they are only carrying out the duty of good citizens of their city, and to enflame matters further Myranda would wander over with Ella in tow; for her part was that of the travelling lady, and Ella her handmaid. Myranda would take the side of the Captain and Buyer, citing that a man should be free to collect whatever trinkets he would like if he's the coin, and that the two dock inspectors were only targeting the man due to his obvious standing.

They would allow tensions to rise, for the situation to spiral into heated verbal exchange, at which point they would draw attention from a passing guard. The guard would demand to know the meaning behind the unrest, and, after each side is given their due to explain, the brutish guard would take the side of the dock inspectors and rule that the silver was to be confiscated, and that if they did not like his ruling they were welcome to appeal it with the local magistrate. This would be their exit, Cossomo, Jon, and the other they'd need to bring in special for the job.

Myranda would remain behind, slipping back into her courtly upbringing, lauding over how poorly the would-be-buyer had been treated, giving the three men enough time to slip away toward a cart.

It was all well and good, but it would not work without a fifth. This was something too which was hotly debated. They were not the only thieves in Tyrosh, after all, but they were for each of them their own reasons reluctant to bring in another who they did not know. In the end they had settled on Belicho, called the Auroch. A big man, Belicho, with a face like gnarled oak. Great big cauliflower ears and a grey beard. Myranda had heard he had killed his own family, once, and while the prospect of working alongside a known kinslayer did not appeal to her greatly, but she could deny that they needed their Guard to make the performance work.

He had agreed, of course, because he fancied a cut and more besides, for he oft made lewd remarks about how they might celebrate alone together.

So they had their five, and after who-can-really-count-how-long on vigilant watch there finally stirred some movement, and they knew it was time their curtain went up.

Submitted June 05, 2019 at 09:51PM by aelfin4 http://bit.ly/2QNx9Py