The Silver Thief by Edward W Robertson

Author:Edward W Robertson [Robertson, Edward W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2015-12-20T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

The carriage rolled toward the two guards dressed in black and silver. Raxa straightened her back, the starched collar of her dress rubbing against her throat. The dress was supposed to be the height of the summer's fashion, but some idiot had cut it to reveal her belly and a dangerous portion of her lower ribs, requiring her (and everyone else who had to keep up with the season's trends) to also wear a tight-fitting shirt (of contrasting color—again, as per trend) in order to maintain her modesty.

She would admit it looked dashing. But given the summer heat, the dress and its multiple layers had obviously been invented by someone who'd never had to wear the gods damned thing himself. As the carriage passed the city guards, sweat trickled down her brow. Not the look she was looking for.

The soldiers watched, bored, as the vehicle rattled past.

"Told you," Gaits murmured. "Want to be rich? All you have to do is dress the part."

The carriage turned, hooves smacking the cobbles. Manors rose on both sides, separated by small but impeccable yards. The air was dense with the smell of flowers, but she couldn't have named most of them.

Gaits nudged her hip. "That's it. The small one."

In this case, "the small one" meant the manor's main wing was only two stories rather than three, though a steep-roofed turret provided its residents the same view as its neighbors. A gated iron fence protected it from unwanted traffic. They continued past to the north. Three blocks away, they rocked to a stop.

"Take your time," Gaits said. "In this fine carriage and equally fine suit, I'm a man about town. Nothing for the city watch to be concerned about."

Raxa nodded. Lars, the driver, dismounted and opened her door. He swung down the hinged steps from the running board, offering her a hand. Once she'd gotten outside, she tugged her dress straight and continued north. She was presently on Denner Street, known proverbially as Make-Good Lane for its reputation as a place where those who'd built their wealth in disreputable ways spent it to buy reputability.

During her search for a house, she'd looked at Make-Good Lane herself. And discovered that, while its residents liked to put on a good face, they also maintained a back alley. The kind you'd use for the delivery of anything you didn't want visible on the main street.

She turned down the alley. The dress' airy skirts fluttered behind her, only rarely snagging on the scabbard strapped tight to her thigh. She counted down houses until she stood behind Dracks'. Its rear was gated the same as the front. Raxa stepped into a cluster of tall, conical shrubs. Amidst the citrusy smell of their blossoms, she entered the other world.

Silver shined from the shadows of the shrubs. She moved to the gates and climbed them easily; in the netherworld, she felt so light she wasn't sure her feet would leave prints in the snow. She landed in the yard and approached the manor.

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