OF THIEVES AND CONQUERORS

1. The Thief of Intemeroi (cont'd)

Cold snow shoved into Theo's face, a heavy boot pressing him into the ground as a dryad with leafy green hair turned out his pockets.

The pockets she could find, anyway.

"Don't be a drag, Wilda." The snow filling his mouth and the music blaring from inside The Orchard nearly drowned out his words. "You know I didn't mean no harm."

"Let him up," the dryad said, her scratchy voice still thick with irritation.

The pressure receded from the small of his back and Theo pushed to his feet, smirking at the hulking brute scowling down on him.

"I see you picking pockets in my establishment one more time," Wilda warned, "I'll skin you myself and stick you in my garden to scare off the sutgulls."

"I was doing those boys a favor, relieving them of some extra weight," Theo said, retrieving the unopened bottle of liquor that had fallen aside. "Gods and everyone else know those New Varletian fancies have enough as it is."

Wilda stuck a long gnarled finger in his face. "Gods and everyone also know what happened the last time a tavern on the Crescent got a reputation for sheltering the likes you."

"That old place was a flea barrell compared to what you've done with the place." Theo tapped the polished wooden sign hanging over them, The Orchard of Fools carved into it with obvious care. "And if they hadn't gone bankrupt, you would've never gotten the building so cheap. Eh, Wilda?"

"Don't pretend you did that for me." The tavern owner glanced over her shoulder when a barmaid inside shouted her name. She folded her brown arms over her chest when she turned to him again. "One day you're going to get yours, you selfish little bastard. But luck's on your side tonight."

"Nothing to do with luck." Theo patted her cheek and winked. "Everything to do with charm."

Wilda swatted his hand away and gave him one last warning look before she disappeared into her crowded tavern. The hulking brute who was Wilda's shadow slammed the wooden door in Theo's face.

Chuckling, he wedged the brown liquor bottle under his arm, pocketed his freezing hands, and made his way to the main road.

Gold light spilled from the tavern windows lining the Crescent, which was so-called for the sliver of snow-capped land separating the rowdiest taverns in the city from the towering gate casting a shadow on his back.

The Crescent attracted locals and tourists alike, which was why Theo had been squatting here these last few days. It wasn't just that tourists' pockets were full and the fire, warm. Gossip flowed like ale, foreigners bringing news from across the world, and the rooftop lounges were ideal for spying on those who came and went through the city gate.

The Conqueror's soldiers had been slipping in at night. They came every hour like clockwork, a few at a time, and he'd only had to follow them to find their lodging. Dressed as a sootgull, he'd eavesdropped on a few conversations before he'd learned the meeting time and place.

But then he'd been so caught up in the drinking and flirting and pick pocketing that he'd almost forgotten why he'd come to the Crescent to begin with. It was a good thing Wilda had thrown him out. Because now, curse him, Theo only had a day to prepare.