Chapter 20: 23. The Black-Stemmed Snow

Rorri

 

“Oi! Git up!”

Rorri shot upright, jarred awake by the panicked banging on his door.

“Y’need to git up right now, mate!”

His heart thrashed. The room was still pitch-dark, and though Bilge was a difficult housemate in many respects, he’d never once woken him before sunrise. He threw on his shirt, and, forgetting his pants, hurled open the door to find Bilge, fist raised mid-knock and a surprised look on his face.

“Record time, mate,” Bilge said with a grin. “Got yer heart goin’, ay?”

Rorri regarded the human speechlessly and released a frustrated sigh.

“I hate you so much,” he mumbled, leaning into the door frame as the fear drained from his body.

“Oi,” Bilge laughed, “don’t say wot ya can’t take back now.”

“No, I mean it,” Rorri said. “I am literally going to kill you someday, and I won’t feel bad, because you’ll deserve it.”

“…Alrigh’, look,” Bilge said, “I know it’s early—”

“Early?” Rorri gestured dramatically towards the window. “It’s the middle of the fucking night!”

“We actually only have about an hour until dawn.”

Rorri glanced past Bilge—

His jaw dropped at the figure standing there.

White bonnet… Gray hair… Floral-patterned smock…

“No… You’re shitting me. This isn’t happening.” Rorri rubbed his eyes, desperately hoping it was an illusion, but to no avail.

Waiting for him in the hall, wearing a pretty hat, a powder-blue dress with delicate flowers stitched into the skirt, matching stockings, and practical flats with little bows decorating the toes, was… Adar. The chin-length wig of silver hair stuffed into the bonnet nearly matched the shade of his skin, minus the shimmer, and a tan shoulder purse completed the look. Held close to his side, it defined his biceps as if they were chiseled from marble. Rorri looked away, unable to find the words he would need to express his bewilderment.

“Swear on me mum, we toldja ‘bout this,” Bilge said without a trace of humor.

“Oh my god…” Rorri groaned. “I thought you were joking. Please tell me this is a joke.”

Bilge scoffed. “Why would I joke about puttin’ this one in a dress, ay?”

“Because why would you put him in a dress?”

“I dressed myself, thank you,” Adar snipped. “But I will need you to help me do my make-up.”

“Oi, wait a tick…” Bilge disappeared down the hall, returning a minute later with a pair of black cargo pants. “Put ‘em on, mate. It’s got, like, twenty pockets.”

“I wish this dress had pockets…”

“Where did you find pants with twenty pockets?” Rorri asked.

“I gotsa friend wot knows a seamstress,” Bilge said. “But we’re gettin’ off topic, ay? Come on.” He motioned for Rorri to follow him into the kitchen. Rorri sighed, donned his new pants, and plodded onwards with the enthusiasm of a prisoner heading for the gallows.

“There’s a ware’ouse up on Barkah Street,” Bilge continued, pouring a dark liquid from a kettle into a mug. “Word is, it’s loaded wif goods confiscated from the poor sods wot wern’t quick enough to book it from the Ro’.” He passed the mug to Rorri.

“‘The Ro’?” he repeated, then took a sip, grimacing as the bitter flavor touched his tongue.

“It’s human slang for the Royal Guard,” Adar clarified.

“What?” Rorri dropped the mug. “Are you seriously telling me we’re stealing from the Guard now?”

“Shhh!” Bilge pressed his finger to his lips and glanced out the window. “Fergodssake, thin walls, mate! And we’re not stealin’ anyfin’, we’re reappropriatin’ the peoples’ goods, fer redistributin’, get it?”

“Right!” Rorri said with a desperate laugh. “I’m sure when you explain that to ‘the Ro’,’ they’ll understand completely!”

“Won’t hafta explain nuffin’ if we don’t get caught.” Bilge took a large gulp of the same liquid he’d poured into Rorri’s cup, wincing as he swallowed. “God, that’s strong…”

“It’s a dark roast,” Adar remarked. “Blond roasts are actually much more stimulating.”

“…Anyway,” Bilge continued, “time’s neva been betta to pull off a stunt like this.” He shifted his eyes towards the window again, then leaned in close, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper. “I gots on good authority that the Guard’re beefin’ up the night shift,” he said, flashing a toothy grin. “Mornin’ shift’ll be skeletal. Kids won’t know wot hit ‘em!”

“Why would they be ‘beefing up’ the night shift?” Rorri asked.

Bilge flitted his eyes to the floor. Adar gave Rorri a troubled look.

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

A pit opened in Rorri’s stomach. He’d never heard such gravity in his friend’s voice…

“It’s nuffin’ to worry yerself ova, mate,” Bilge said with a dismissive wave. “Just poli’ical bullshit, I’ll fill ya in at the pub, ay? Fer now, we gotsa job t’do.”

Rorri frowned, but accepted the deferral, somehow relieved of the burden of knowing.

“Look,” he grumbled, folding his arms. “I am entirely too exhausted to go out and rob the King, alright? I’ve hardly had any sleep this week, and—”

“I can fix that right quick.”

As if by magic, Bilge procured a bud of Snow, holding the stem upright before Rorri like a gentleman presenting a rose. Rorri took it, twirled it, smelled it, felt the smoothness of its petals, lips painted with a satisfied smirk. Behind them, Adar shook his head, losing his gaze to the floor.

“Why’s it so dark?” Rorri asked, referring to the plant’s nearly black stem. He bent it, and it gave very little; an ordinary plant would snap under the same pressure. Even the thorns seemed sturdier, more like spikes on a collar than anything he’d seen on a flower.

“I’m told it’s betta than the shite ya been on,” Bilge said.

“Told?” Rorri raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t tried it, then?”

Bilge grabbed Rorri’s arm and pulled him in close. “Been savin’ it fer ya. It’s a big job, ay? No diff’rent ‘an wot yer used to, but the spoils…” He rubbed his fingers together – the universal gesture for riches – and let his voice trail off.

“Right…” Rorri said, pulling away from the coffee on Bilge’s breath. “Honestly though, do you really think we can sneak past the Guard? I can’t imagine the King’s security is anything to snort at.”

Bilge snorted. Rorri gave him a wary look.

“Trus’ me, mate, the King’s security’s nuffin’ but pomp. I’d bet all wot’s guardin’ the door is a shitty padlock an’ a teenage boy wot still ain’t sprouted a hair on his balls!” Bilge guffawed. Rorri and Adar exchanged a perturbed glance.

“Do humans really have hair on their—?”

“Can we just go over the plan and get going?” Adar pleaded. “These stockings really pinch…”

 

*******

 

After explaining why, no, he couldn’t just magic the lock open, he wouldn’t be able to see the pins to know what to make them do, and even if he could, it would probably take way longer, and he was really getting sick of them asking if he could solve everything with magic, and if he had to say ‘it doesn’t work like that’ one more time – Rorri left the house in a tizzy. To avoid arousing suspicion from any idly wandering eyes, Adar left several minutes after, wearing a long, thick coat to cover his disguise, and Bilge went last, needing extra time to dress for his own part in the play.

You are reading story The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) at novel35.com

Rorri dug his hands into his coat pockets to keep warm in the early morning chill, and something he’d forgotten grazed his fingertips. He pulled it out, comforted to see the Rosari wax seal was still intact, and ran his thumb over the magpie-and-pearl, a nostalgic smile on his lips. It might snap if he wasn’t careful, especially in the cold, so he gingerly relocated it to his breast pocket, just over his heart, where it would hopefully be protected from harm.

 

At the rendezvous point – a crooked alley near the warehouse – Rorri took the black-stemmed Snow between his teeth. The flavor overwhelmed even his experienced tongue. He stifled a gag as it swelled in his mouth and slid down his throat, first searing, then numbing everything it touched. After a few minutes, his stomach began to gurgle, sweat beading all over his body. The nausea quickly gave way to sharp, seething pain, doubling him over and shaking him to his knees. He clutched his belly, panting, fighting the need to vomit, but as he choked the acid back down, a terrifying thought hooked into his mind… Did he accidentally eat some of the stem?

 

That bit’ll kill ya…

 

Bilge’s warning from so long ago rattled about his head. He could die. He could die right there, in that alley, whisked away by his own carelessness. His friends would find him on the ground convulsing, only to go limp and lifeless, never to see another day. Rorri retched, praying the flower might come back up after all and spare him the undignified ending, but it stubbornly stayed in his stomach, sucking the moisture from his lips. How much time passed, he’d never know. The pain gripped every muscle, from his toes up to his ears, as he lay in the dirt, writhing, silently begging for it to end…

And then…

It did.

A tinny din rang in his ears, an echo in a hollow chamber, a comforting, noiseless hum. It seemed his chest had been emptied, cleaned, and dried, his body reduced to pure sinew and bone… But he could see. He could hear. He wasn’t dead, yet.

Then, it walloped his core, a thunderclap, wasting his debris to the wind. His lungs crackled with the flower’s static, a flash of lightning in every inhale, and what sludge remained of the tired elf’s body burned up and crumbled to ash. The hairs on his arms reached out to the sky. His teeth radiated euphoric light. His pupils opened up to receive the sun. A flash of cold fire consumed him from the inside out. He shuddered. His transformation was complete: he was one with the eye of the Snow.

He bounced in place, wanting only to experience the air sweeping his skin, wanting only to walk on the wind itself, no longer bound by his sluggish, earthly gait – but he had to wait for his accomplices. That much, at least, he remembered. So, he waited – bouncing, spinning, hopping, humming, shaking, chewing, kicking, drumming, punching, swinging, stretching, pacing, scratching, picking, sweating – and as he fidgeted, little sparks of magic jumped from his eyes to the wall, from his fingers to the ground, from his tongue to the air, invisible unless he Willed them to be seen, felt or heard. His eyes subtly glowed as he illuded tiny stick-people in an aimless, chaotic cartoon – some danced, some fought, and some jumped from little buildings, splatting on the ground or bouncing up into the sky. He’d never practiced such strange entertainment before, but it was almost like he couldn’t control it. He could, in some way, but the impulse was so strong, he felt it necessary to continue, even though there was no practical purpose for it. He was overflowing with magic. He had to release it now, while he had the chance.

With his heightened senses, Rorri heard Adar’s approach long before he turned the corner, and he dispelled the illusions immediately. When he saw his friend, he ducked, wide-eyed and ready to flee, forgetting that earlier he’d painted Adar’s skin tan to make him look like a human.

“It’s fine,” Adar called. “It’s just me.”

“Oh, thank god!” Rorri sprang upright, sprinted to Adar and threw his arms around him, nuzzling his face into his chest. Adar stiffened, returning the hug with a light pat on the back.

“Are you alright?” Adar asked as he peeled his friend off of him.

“I have NEVER been b-better,” Rorri declared. His speech matched the tempo of his heart, his words pouring out quicker than he could say them, some bursting like popped balloons.

“I just want to t-tell you, Adar, in case I don’t have the chance to later, you are a wonderful, BEAUTIFUL person!” He cupped Adar’s face with both hands and stared deeply into his nearly-black eyes. “D-don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. I count myself BLESSED,” he shook Adar’s cheeks emphatically, “to call you my f-f-friend!”

“…Okay,” Adar mumbled through his pursed lips. He gently took Rorri’s wrists and lowered them, freeing his face from the forest elf’s grip. “Are you sure you’re in the right state of mind for this job? We can call it off—”

“Oh, no no no no no no NO, don’t be ridiculous! I p-promise, I am…” Rorri inhaled sharply and broke into a giggle. “I c-can’t explain it – really, honestly, Adar, you NEED to try it some time – but I genuinely c-can’t imagine being in a better state of mind for a job like this!” His temples pulsed as he chewed his own teeth, fists trembling uselessly in the air. “Where’s B-Bilge, anyway? Is he c-c-coming?”

“Yes, of course he’s—”

“Good good GOOD!” Rorri hopped in place, holding his arms close to his chest as if bracing against a cold wind. “Humans are s-strange, aren’t they? Everything they do is so QUICK, which m-makes sense, but still – have you ever noticed how human-made furniture is so f-flimsy? I can’t imagine it lasting more than a century – D-do you think rich humans have nice furniture? Have you ever been on the Plateau? It’s so WEIRD up there – they shape b-bushes into animals—!”

“Rorri,” Adar interrupted. “Please stop talking. Please.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m s-so sorry,” Rorri shrank low, shivering. “I know I must seem s-so SCATTER-brained right now, but please don’t worry, when it’s time to do the job, a-and I have something to focus on, trust me – I have NEVER been this sharp! I could hear a p-pin drop on the Plateau – Oh! Have I told you what it’s like there? Oh, g-g-GOD…” He clutched his head. “Adar, I want to tell you something, but, I have to k-keep it a secret, does that make sense? If I said it out loud, that would ruin EVERYTHING – I don’t know how to s-say what I want to say without saying it, does that make sense?”

“Then don’t—”

“I know, b-but I want to – but I CAN’T!” Rorri scratched at his neck furiously.

“Then don’t.”

“I won’t – I mean, I p-probably won’t – I trust you more than anyone, though, a-and I don’t trust very easily…” Rorri stopped – his first moment of stillness since eating the Snow – and a pensive look glossed his face. Adar’s eyes softened, though the tension in his brow remained.

“Well…” Adar sighed. “If you still trust me once you’ve sobered up, you can think about telling me then.”

“O-okay,” Rorri yielded. “I might not be as OPEN – s-sorry – you know how mopey and shut off I can get, when I’m tired – Oh!” Rorri zipped to the end of the alley and looked towards the warehouse. “Did you see the fence? It’s got spikes on the top – I’ve never had to c-climb a SPIKED fence before – d-do you think I can just jump it? I’m a little worried that I might, y-you know—”

“Impale your balls?”

“That, yes,” Rorri tittered, wringing his hands together. “Any thoughts on, on, on h-how I might keep that from happening?”

Adar shrugged. “Just, I don’t know… Give it your best jump, I suppose?”

“Oi!” came a hushed voice from around the corner. “Pipe down, ay? I can hear yer jabberin’ miles away!”

“Bilge!” Rorri scampered over to his human friend, throwing his arms out for a hug, but his chest collided with Bilge’s outstretched palm, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m not a hugga’, mate,” he grumbled. “And I can’t have ya dirtyin’ the new threads.”

“S-sorry!” Rorri stumbled a step backwards. “I’m just so HAPPY to see you!”

Bilge narrowed his eyes, but as he peered into Rorri’s wide, round pupils, a smirk spread across his lips. “Good shite then, ay?”

“Oh my GOD – It’s – it’s – it’s indescribable – You’ll just have to t-try it, that’s all I can say – nobody should live their life without trying this, a-at least once…” Rorri paused, eyes closed, through a spell of rapid breathing. Adar watched him closely, his lips taut with concern.

“I LOVE the outfit, by the way!” Rorri resumed, as if nothing had happened. “V-very upper-middle-class!”

“The clothes ain’t nuffin’ wifout the bloke wot fills ‘em up, ay!” Bilge grinned, smoothing out his fine gray peacoat. “Alright, lads, we all know wot we’re doin’, yeah? Let’s get to it, sun’s comin’ up fast—”

“R-really quick,” Rorri interrupted. “Do you know how I can get over the s-spikes?”

“Wot?” Bilge furrowed his brow. “Oh, just take Adar’s coat an’ throw it ova’ the top.”

“What?” Adar protested. “I like this coat!”

“Well d’ya want him to pop his balls on the fence?” Bilge spit on the ground. “’Snot like yer wearin’ it on the job, anyway.”

“Yes, but I was planning on coming back for it.” Adar sighed heavily. “Can’t you just use your coat?”

“Mine is p-pretty thin,” Rorri said, pinching his sleeve. “I p-promise I’ll bring it back this time!”

“Sure you will, with a bunch of spike-holes in it,” Adar grumbled.

“Quit yer bitchin’,” Bilge commanded. “Everythin’ goes right, I’ll buy ya a new one. Now, let’s get on wif it, ‘fore it’s too bright, ay?”

Adar grunted and tossed his coat to Rorri, shooting a sharp glare at Bilge.

“I just – I just want to s-say something, before we head off,” Rorri twittered, leaving no time for the two to protest. “I think of you as my, m-my BROTHERS, and, well…” He blinked rapidly, face subtly twitching. “Even though I know w-we can pull this off – I mean, I’m pretty sure we can – t-to be honest, we probably should’ve thought it through a little more carefully, b-but… erm, what I mean to say is – is – if everything goes to shit, you’ve got my w-word, I’ll be loyal to you both, no matter WHAT, h-ha!”

An uncomfortable pause ensued. Bilge’s eyebrows encroached upon his hairline, his lips pressed firmly into his teeth. Adar’s expression didn’t change, apart from the distant look in his eyes.

“Right, well…”

“You’re a dick,” Adar said, pointing at Bilge. “But you’ve both got my loyalty as well.”

“Fergodssake, you lads can kiss eachovva later, ay?” Bilge kicked at the ground, keeping his eyes away from the forest elf. “We gotsa job t’do. Git in yer place an’ wait fer the signal.”

Rorri nodded, waved a weak salute to his accomplices, and crept up the skinny side road that led to the warehouse.

You can find story with these keywords: The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet), Read The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet), The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) novel, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) book, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) story, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) full, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) Latest Chapter