Thar Shaddin

The color black. It's everywhere at night if one knows where to look for it. Rhiea did and that's why she was particularly good at what she did. She wore the color well with the fitted cotton pants and shirt. The thin and flexible gloves covering her hands and the cap under which she had stuffed her hair all blended into the shadows she moved through. Her face would have stood out had the thief not smeared soot over her face and neck. Camouflage was an art form that she had taken great pains to perfect.


Finding a particularly comfortable feeling shadow, Rhiea paused to look up at the building she'd cased out earlier that day. It belonged to a member of higher society who walked around in their finery and flaunted their wealth to any who cared (and many did) to notice it. Rhiea had definitely noticed it and followed the chattering gaggle of women back here after they'd spent the day shopping. It wasn't their fault, she supposed, that they had been born into money and privilege. It really wasn't. Just as it wasn't their fault she was about to relieve them of some of that money in the form of jewels. She smiled, careful to keep her lips closed, at the thought of the rubies and sapphires; the diamonds and emeralds too, that she'd soon have weighing down her coin pouch.


Rhiea waited patiently as lights started to go off. First downstairs, the middle floor and finally the upstairs. The floor plan was easy. The first floor held the Great Room, dining room, Ladies Solar, a den and office along with a kitchen facility in the back. The main hallway had two sets of stairs. One for servants and another for the residents. It is the latter she'll take since the former went the opposite direction she wanted. When the top floor went dark, that was her cue. Despite the season it was the middle of the week. There weren't any parties going on which was both fortuitous and unfortunate at the same time. Getting in and out would have been easier with everyone gone but it was more of a challenge when the residence was occupied. So, the top floor lights go out long after the middle floor simply because those were the servant quarters and it's likely they had been up at least an hour or two longer cleaning up from the day or simply enjoying their own free time. Still, Rhiea waited half an hour more before creeping up to the vine covered outside wall.


She had to snicker a little to herself. What pride and arrogance to have a ready-made ladder. A quick glance around and she crouch-crept towards the ivy covered wall to test the mettle of the vines. Being small and light it wouldn't be hard to grip a fist full of the greenery and begin climbing. She had already plotted her path and was making her way towards an open window, likely the youngest daughter's, with a quick and sure pull-with-hands-push-with-feet technique that Tobias had taught her years ago. The pouch tied to a loop on the pants dangled behind and below Rhiea and swung freely. Later, when it's filled with her loot, it would be tucked under her shirt where it wouldn't get in the way of repelling to the ground again and make as little noise as possible. Concentrating as she was on her task Rhiea wouldn't notice other eyes watching her every move. Tobias had always said her own overconfidence was going to be her undoing some day.

Smoke billowed free from Ilias' lips as he watched the table with studied intent. "Are you trying to insult Pietro?" He looked up in time to see his words affect, if barely, the man across the table.

Of course, the room was darkened. The meeting presently taking place was not something one wanted broadcast to all and sundry. Indeed, it would be better if it was assumed there was no activity in the house at all, and they could all go about their business as if it had never happened. Until the decisions made within their little tête-à-tête were spread beyond them and into the darker currents of Marn's underground, it might never even have seemed to have happened at all. Ilias liked his business to be conducted in that manner. Just as well he was good at seeing things in the dark, because that way he could enjoy each and every drop of perspiration as it appeared on Feren's forehead.

He held his pipe loosely in his right hand as he pushed the papers Feren had presented him with back towards Feren. "Try again, scumpa mea," he said, his voice rich with poisonous implications.

To Feren's credit, the man's hands did not shake in the slightest as he picked up the papers and shuffled them straight. He knew what Ilias wanted; he'd known it for a long time. Pietro had made his position on the matter clear, and Ilias had made sure to pass that bit of feeling along. Explicitly. There may have even been some blood.

Feren carefully placed the papers flat on the table, folding his hands over them. Ilias slid his pipe between his lips, letting the cherry-flavored smoke fill his mouth before he breathed it in. He let Feren twist, let him consider his options. He had stalled for seven months since the demand hidden inside the request, and though Pietro had been distracted by the goodies, they both knew he was not likely to be put off by something so trivial. He had made a demand. He was not about to lose face by backing out of the demand without some serious collateral in return. Feren's family. . .ahh, there was maybe one other thing Ilias could think of that he could offer to sate Pietro. But which did he want to keep more? Which would ruin him less?

It was always delicious to watch someone caught in a life-altering choice. When a choice could also bring about some form of ruin, well, that just sweetened the pot.

Ilias' eyes flickered past Feren as movement at the door caught his attention. He relaxed -- marginally -- as he recognized one of his men, Mihai. Similarly gifted with excellent night vision, the other man strode into the room, breaking Feren's internal struggle in the process. Ilias watched Feren watch Mihai as the bodyguard navigated the room with an almost proprietary air. We own you, those movements said, and after several long seconds Feren looked down to the table. Broken? Ah.

Ilias lifted his head as Mihai spoke low into his ear.

"Now, now, Feren, have you decided to play a game of assassins?" Ilias asked.

Feren looked up. Ilias caught a glimmer of alarm before Feren controlled his expression. "No, of course not!"

"Why, may I ask, is there some sort of pest crawling up the side of your building if it is not one of yours?"

Feren's expression shifted. "There's no leak. It is impossible that there has been a leak."

Ilias blew another stream of smoke towards Feren, relishing the deep scent of his spiced tobacco.

"Tell Radu to go to ground. Set up a surprise at the entry point." Ilias watched Feren as he spoke to Mihai. He even smiled at the other man in brief reassurance that he had not forgotten about their business. "I want to talk to this pest before you kill it."

Her hands hurt where she had to wrap then in vines to keep from falling but she was that much closer to the open window. Glancing down to be sure she had good footing for her boots, Rhiea seeing anyone at the window. She might not have super-human eyesight but she'd let her own adjust to the darkness. A few feet away and she stopped. Had she heard voices? Rhiea listened a little longer and if she didn't hear them again would start climbing. Doing her best to make as little noise as possible, nevertheless the thief might have rustled some leaves or scraped a boot against an exposed portion of wall.

Looking up she could see the sill of the window just in reach. Glove covered fingers whisper over the stained wood as she slid them over to get a good grip. She had once chance to do this and do it right. Hop-sliding her right hand over, Rhiea took a deep breath, held it, then pushed herself towards that narrow ledge. A muted thud would be her left hand catching and she'd smile triumphantly. Slightly over long sleeves didn't slide back when she hand-walked towards the middle of the window, just enough that she could get a toe on the upper sash of the window below and push her way up.

Reaching for the inside edge of the opened window, Rhiea hooks her fingers enough to pull now and wriggle her small frame over the sill and into the room. Head first, Tobias would be rolling in his grave if he knew she was entering this way, she wiggled and slid- hooked her knee up and hitched with a grunt, her way into the room of what she assumed to be the youngest of the misses she had seen that day. It was dark, which was good. And it was dark. Really dark. Darker than it should have been. And now, much too quiet. Rhiea strained both eyes and ears to catch even a hint of sound or light.

Before Rhiea's eyes had a chance to adjust to the lightlessness of the room, Mihai made his move. He stepped forward, the steel head of his flanged mace a lesser shadow among shadows as it swept down. He aimed for her lower back; he wanted to put her out flat before she had a chance to retaliate. Ilias had forbidden Feren from moving anyone from their beds. They continued to sleep, unaware of what was going on. If they'd been sure of which floor the intruder planned on entering it was possible Ilias might have relented, but they'd a choice of rooms and not enough individuals to place. If she hadn't stopped at the middle room, Mihai would have had to dash upstairs.

The possibility for the intruder to escape was why Radu had been sent to the street.

Back on the first floor Feren was finally beginning to crack under the pressure. He was distracted. Faced with a concrete threat to his family over his attempted strategy of bypassing the eventual threat Pietro posed, Ilias had found that Feren had become a bit more. . .distracted. Ilias toyed with the stem of the pipe within his mouth, sliding his tongue against the well-worn wood.

"What shall I tell Pietro?" Ilias spoke around his pipe, though the tone he used was more one of musing than demand.

A lesser man might have pleaded to put the business off. Feren wasn't such a man. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have such delectable properties in his possession, nor would he have made such savvy deals with a crimelord. Ilias could see the indecision in his face, the need to go charging upstairs to protect his family and his property. Alas, he was all but a prisoner in his own office facing down the string of decisions he had made that lead to this moment. Carefully he selected two of the four pages, and passed them back down the table. Ilias raised his eyebrows, and looked up to Feren as if he was surprised. Too bad Feren wouldn't be able to completely decipher the expression. Oh well.

"What's this, then?" Ilias asked.

"These and access to the warehouse across the road from the scrapyard." Feren's lips remained parted, as if there was something else he intended to do with his mouth. Several seconds passed, wherein Ilias observed his indecision, before he nodded and sat back in his seat. He closed his mouth.

Not the list of political clients Pietro had asked for, after all. It was not quite the same tier of usefulness, but as he looked over the two pieces of paper Feren had given him he knew Pietro would see the matter as being settled. "Ahh. I shall present your offer to Pietro and we shall see what he thinks." He carefully folded the papers, recreasing them along the line that had been there for some time. He tucked them away, eyes returning to Feren.

"Shouldn't we. . ." Feren drifted off, his gaze shifting towards the room's sole door.

Ilias remained seated. The smile he offered to Feren was all edge.