In the crouching expanse of
Prote City, life went on as normal (normal for Prote anyway): Lord K’haz
sat down at his desk for another day of keeping the city running
smoothly (i.e. keeping out of its way); people of all races bustled
about their daily chores; boats with their precious cargoes sailed
up Prote river (though ‘sailed’ implies that there is some skill
involved) to trade in the market; the city patrolmen strolled along
the giant maze of seemingly unnavigateable twisting alleyways on
their daily rounds. But, in a very ordinary ground floor flat, the
lights are dimmed. In the centre of this unremarkable room, there is
a customary small table where an elf and a man talk in hushed
voices. Plotting.
*
Rolling his newly drawn map across the
scratched varnish of the ancient table, Keet waited patiently (but
not unirritatedly) as his human friend studied it blankly.
“Well?” Getting up from his perch on
the table, causing it to creek, he walked round to his puzzled
companion. His movement stirred up months of dust and grime and he
had to fight the urge to sneeze.
“Well what?” queried his short partner
uncertainly from his seat on the only decent chair in the room,
which he had drawn up to the table.
“What do you think?” He asked Sam
proudly, tasting the dust that filled the air as it forced its
determined way into his mouth. He drew himself up to his full
height, which was quite tall (consequentially bumping his head on
the lone, covered light hanging from the low ceiling.)
“Well, it’s a map of a house!” Sam
knew he was on firm ground there; it was definitely a map of a
house. However Keet sighed exasperatedly.
“Not just any house dimwit, it’s Crole’s
manor!” His tone turned dramatic, and was very impressive up until
the point he sneezed.
“Er…it’s very well done” Well, it
was! It had all the doors marked on and everything!
“Oh, for goodness sake…” The elf
checked himself as he started to raise his voice.
“O’ course it would ‘elp if I could
see the thing.”
Keet paced around the cluttered room
restlessly. “It’s supposed to be secret, we got to dim the
lights. Have you learnt nothing in the three years you’ve known
me?”
“Oh.” He squinted at the map for a
time. “What’s secret about a map of a house?”
“Idiot.” Snapped Keet. “It’s the
house we’re going to rob next.” He stopped his pacing and turned
sharply to face the man with his eyes watering (this was because he’d
just hit his knee on the table leg.)
Sam sat in silence for a while
“Why?”
“Because we’re robbers!” He hissed
angrily, all the more annoyed because of Sam’s calmness. (And his
leg was hurting, but he daren’t rub it while Sam was watching.)
“But Keet…”
“Don’t call me by my name stupid,
someone could be listening.”
“Well, person-with-no-name, we still got
plenty of stuff from the last time we…” Sam tried to point out.
“So! Why should that matter? We haven’t
to get out of practice.” He dismissed the argument with a wave of
his gloved hand. “Now Crole is supposed to be very clever, so this
should be a challenge.” His eyes gleamed, even in the dimness of
the room.
“But I thought you’d made friends with
Crole, wouldn’t it be kind of betraying him to…”
“Oh, for goodness sake, were thieves! You
know, the ‘bad guys’?”
“It would be easier to…”
The elf and the man talked and argued until
after midnight. The short one never moving out of his seat at the
table, while the tall one impatiently paced about the room,
occasionally perching on the edge of a table or bench. Once he even
sat down on a rickety chair for ten minutes before he was up and
pacing again (which was just as well for the chair fell apart a
moment later), but by the morning they appeared to have reached a
decision.
*
The next night there is more activity in
the flat with the conspicuously dimmed lights, and two people in
black clothing slink off into the inky moonless night. See them dart
from one shadow to another, between orange puddles of flickering
light, as insubstantial as liquid in the shadows. Eventually you see
them come out of the Protian City Flats, and across the border into
High Prote City, where they dart between elegant mansions and
palaces, three times as high (and 33 times more expensive) as any
building on the Flats. See them stop beside a greenly illuminated
palace, (Prote never did go for subtlety,) surrounded by tall
curving white walls. The palace was circular, and looked rather like
an over-decorated wedding cake, with one circle above another
circle, each getting smaller and ending with a square tower on top
(don’t ask!). Look closely and see two patches of shadow scale the
outer wall, (with a slight pause as the shorter shadow fell off,)
and cautiously make their way across the short expanse of grass to
the base of the first tier. The shadows then proceed to climb the
outside wall, and as they do this you will also notice that the
circular mansion isn’t made of smooth circles after all, but
rather the walls are filled with lots of niches and crannies. (This
doesn’t seem logical, but then Prote city has less logic as a
steering wheel in a train.) The shadows used these cracks as cover
from the eerie green light.
*
Keet climbed in the window and looked
around; there was the circular safe in the middle of the bare tower
like it was supposed to be. It had the look of a place that would
screech if a piece of dust even got near it, you could smell the
polish from outside the window, and that’s when it was closed,
(the fact that there wasn’t anything wooden in the tower to polish
was a minor detail.)
“Right!” He turned to his comrade as he
climbed in after him, holding his nose. “You go down there,” he
pointed to the steps that led down to the level below, “and call
up if anyone comes. Right?”
“Right Geet…berson-wi-do-dame” he
corrected himself, holding his nose against the stench. Obediently
the short, stocky man one-handedly descended the uneven steps
carefully, trying (with little success) not to make them creek.
Smiling to himself, Keet got to work on the safe. Pretty stupid of
Crole really, to put the safe here, especially without locking the
windows. And he’d thought he was supposed to be clever! Of
course, most of the money would go to him; it wasn’t as if he was
being disloyal to his friend, just missing out a few facts, that’s
all. I mean, he’d never actually promised it would be a
50-50 split, and Sam would never have to know.
Two things happened: one he heard the safe
click open; two, five bulky guards pored into the room, surrounding
him with crossbows, followed by his dejected comrade.
“I’m really sorry.” He attempted to
explain himself, staring at the floor. “But they found out who I
was, an’ what we was planning, an’ they told me they would let
me go if…an’ you said before it was ok to betray people, ‘coz
we was the bad guys an’…I am really sorry...” His voice died
away mournfully.
Keet just stood there stunned. He’d
betrayed him. After three years, Sam had betrayed him, after all he’d
done. He’d betrayed him with his own words and he thought that
made it ok! Hadn’t he told him about honour among thieves?
“Why?”
The guards manhandled him outside. The
journey down the endless winding steps took forever. Some burly zolf
patrolmen were waiting. The whole thing was a set-up, he realised
dazedly. Sam turned to go, a picture of misery and regret. Huh, too
late now.
“Not so fast!” said one guard (not
rally appropriate because Sam was walking slower than a snail, you
got the impression he’d rehearsed his lines in front of a mirror.)
“You’re not going anywhere!”
“But you said…” Sam looked panic
stricken.
“I said? What did I say? Who cares what I
said? The cops want ya”
“But…”
*
Now see two black clothed robbers being
shoved into a cart. Hear the guards laughter as they retreat into
the green wedding cake.
The next day the sun rose, penetrating the
layer of smog that cloaked the city like a permanent shroud. Lord K’haz
sat down at his old desk in his circular room at the top of the
highest tower in Prote; people of all kinds bustled about their
daily chores; boats jostled up the river; patrolmen continued their
daily rounds through the gigantic sprawling city (unaccountably
ending up at a nearby pub); life went on as abnormal as ever. The
only difference was that two damp cells in the yard now had silent
occupants, but nobody notices things like that. Not fair really is
it? |