Page 30 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals
“And that offends you?” I snort. “It’s not enough that you might actually kill me? You also want to dictate how I try to survive?”
“By all means, forge ahead like a big, boorish bull,” she snaps. “You’ll die faster.”
“Either that, or I’ll drive you crazy by taking routes you didn’t expect and fouling up your carefully laid plans. You’re terrified that I’m going to make you look stupid, aren’t you? Face it, sweetheart—clever traps are no match for flammablesand explosives. I’ll just blast my way to what I want, while you fret and fume because your mind games have failed.”
“You want explosions?” she seethes. “Just wait.”
“Bring it on, despot.”
“Ignorant fool.”
“Arrogant snob,” I retort.
“Doltish twat-waffle.”
I stifle a laugh. “Tyrannical cock-gobbler.”
“How dare you.”
“I do enjoy our little conversations. If you’ll excuse me.” I step to the edge of the hole I made, conscious that the nearest of the bodach beads seem to be creeping toward me.
“Truly, fuck you, you vile butt excretion.”
The sound of her angry breathing cuts off abruptly. She has ended communication between us, which is just as well, because I need to jump through the hole to the first floor and let Grisly in, before the spooky, sentient ornaments get too close to me.
I lower myself through the opening and drop down into the room below. It’s longer than the room I just left, and to my surprise, it feels warm and welcoming, rather like my workshop back in Talgus, only neater, with finer furnishings.
A pang seizes my heart as I remember my old lair, my favorite haunts, and the few friendships I cultivated back in my home city. I gave it all up in order to humble the reigning oligarch of the region and gain more renown for myself. I’m not sure which was my primary motive. But I overplayed my hand, underestimated his power, and miscalculated what the reaction of the city’s residents would be.
I had a bit of a reputation in the area, and I was quite popular in certain circles, so I thought I would be safe. I thought certain people would protect me and shelter me, but once the bounty posters went up, I found myself with no allies, onlyformer friends greedy for an easy payday at the expense of my life.
Now here I am, striving for legitimacy and recognition again. This time I’m trying to take a shortcut to the top, instead of working my way up for years like I did before. I thought patience was supposed to come easier with age, but I feel more impatient and violent than ever these days. I’ve always been somewhat callous, and now I’m even more dismissive of the feelings or pain of others… except when it comes to a certain sharp-tongued thief. In her case, it’s not that I want to spare her of pain entirely—it’s just that I prefer to deliver the pain and determine how far it goes.
She hasn’t done much work in this room as far as traps are concerned. One of the exits is rigged with two heavy pans that will swing down from the ceiling when the door is opened and strike the person entering. In front of the other door, she spread a thick, gooey substance—honey or molasses, I think—and she hung up a tablecloth covered in more honey, so anyone entering the room would blunder into it. But she didn’t expect an intruder to drop in from above. I smirk as I open the second door and step carefully over the mess, through the exit.
I stay put for a moment to take in my surroundings.
I’m standing in a long hallway. To my right, there’s a central staircase leading up to the second floor. To my left, at the end of a red carpet, is the front entrance of the keep. I’m intrigued by the lovely flowers in the urns along the hall. For a moment I’m suspicious of them, wondering if they could be booby-trapped with poisonous pollen or some such thing. But Devilry couldn’t possibly have had the time for something that involved. I don’t need to waste precious minutes investigating a bunch of flowers.
The lightning trap that killed Needle seems to have run out of energy. Not even the slightest flicker appears on the wireleading to the keyhole, nor is there any life in the trap itself, which is a strange device of metal and crystal components. If I had time, I’d inspect that trap more thoroughly to learn how it works. I’m sure I could use the information for my own future inventions.
But at the moment, letting Grisly into the fortress is my priority, and the path between me and the exit appears clear.
I start sauntering down the hallway toward the front door. But the instant my boots hit the carpet, my feet whisk right out from under me and I slam down hard on my back, the breath rushing from my lungs in a loud grunt.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling. As I try to rise, my elbows and hands slip this way and that on the shiny wood floor. It’s been copiously slicked with oil, every bit of it. Devilry cut the carpet into strips, oiled the floor, then placed the strips back together perfectly so the carpet looked intact. And I, fool that I am, barely glanced at it before I went on my merry way to open the door.
Slowly, carefully, I get to my feet. Bracing one hand against the wall, I shuffle forward until my foot slips again. My arms pinwheel for a few seconds while I do a little dance of desperation, trying to stay upright. I crash-slide against the wall, striking my cheekbone against the frame of a large painting. My hand touches one of the magical eyes, and I yell at the cold, slimy feeling of it.
Peals of laughter echo through the hallway, and Devilry’s sultry voice fills my ears. “That was so satisfying to watch. Better than sex.”
“You must not be having very good sex, then,” I reply.
“I get what I need.” Again, her answer is too quick. She’s not good at lying, which, for a thief, is interesting. She’s better at devising plans and staying in the background, using people and objects as pieces in her game.
I’ve found that people’s strengths usually reveal their weaknesses, and that attacking both is the best way to reach the most sensitive spots of their psyche.
“You’re not very brave, are you?” I taunt her. “You hang back, you hide. You brag about your skills, but when it comes to actually using them, you’re a coward. I’ll bet you’re only a half-decent lockpick and an incompetent thief, just like you’re only a half-decent climber and an unremarkable fighter.”
