Thieves of Islar: Book One of The Heirs of Bormeer by James Shade

Author:James Shade [Shade, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-06-19T22:00:00+00:00

Forty-Three

Ardo sat, uncomfortable and wet, against the brick chimney of the smokehouse. It had taken days to find an observation point with a clear view of the scraps market that would not be easily spotted in return. If he had half of his niece’s talent for blending into a crowd, he would not have had to climb up here.

But his age, his size, and old joint pains were all too evident. Plus his age betrayed him in another, unobvious but ultimately more effective way. Tabbil had been at this game a long time. Nearly every underworld figure in Islar knew him. He was a failure, a cautionary tale told to many getting started in the Thieves’ world. “Don’t do that. You don’t want to end up like Ardo Tabbil.”

He coughed and pushed his back against the bricks, using the physical discomfort to push away the troubling thoughts. He was not a failure. Yes, he had gone semi-legitimate. He had learned a craft. He never intended to become a master jeweler. But his business had helped him through lean times and he lived as well as he had ever hoped he was going to.

“Bah!” he said quietly.

He peered through the misty rain that was keeping away the bulk of the buyers from the scrap tables. It was the third day of keeping watch on ‘Buster’ deGrame, not knowing if it was going to lead anywhere. Buster could be meeting with his guild contacts somewhere else. For all Tabbil knew, he may have already met them during one of the breaks Ardo had taken for meals or to relieve himself.

Or when I dozed off yesterday.

The cold wetness finally penetrated the last layer of Ardo’s wraps and clothes. He felt the dampness on his chest, shoulders, and buttocks grow into a full sogginess.

“Mara’s great orbs,” he muttered. “I am going to end up sick.”

He could barely make out deGrame in the distance. He could really only tell who he was by his position at the end of the stalls and the man’s body language. Between the mist, the fully overcast gray skies, and the failing of Ardo’s eyes, he would be lucky to recognize anyone that made contact with Buster today.

Then a giant of a man made his way through the thin crowd of buyers. Ardo jolted forward, struggling to get a better view. He wiped the water from his face and squinted hard to focus. It was not just the man’s size that Ardo recognized, but there was something about his proportions. It was as if he had been put together at the waist from two dissimilar bodies.

The man approached deGrame directly and they spoke for less than a minute. Then deGrame took off his apron, grabbed his coin box, and said something to the vendor next door.

They are leaving! Ardo scrambled, trying to get to his feet on the wet shingles and nearly slipped off the roof. He knelt, catching his breath. Despite the numbness in his fingers, he began a slow crawl across the length of the roof to the ledge between the buildings.

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