Autumn leaves flitted through the setting sunlight, landing on the rippling surface of the Nahray River. A small horse-drawn wagon filled with an assortment of wooden boxes and barrels rolled along a cobblestone highway. A canvas tied down with rope helped to secure the cargo and protect it from the elements. From beneath the tarp, a pair of bulbous yellow eyes peeked out and glanced around.
The wagon drove down the road toward the stone-walled port of Andima. As it passed through the massive front gates, its long shadows cast by the evening sun melded with those of the buildings. Covered by darkness, a small figure took the opportunity to dart out from the back of the wagon and into the nearby alleyway.
The little rust-colored creature clung to the stones of a nearby shop's chimney by his fingers and toes. He climbed up and hunkered down on the shadowed side of the roof, sitting on his thick tail. Phiblins this far from home were seldom welcome in human societies, seen as vermin or thieves most of the time. The figure considered such a label unfair as he opened a small pack tied to his chest with twine. Inside were a collection of lock picks, pliers, files, and other assorted burglar's tools. The phiblin dug around an inner pocket and pulled out three copper coins. He frowned, scratching the horns on the back of his head. “Not even enough for a decent meal,” he muttered. He needed some money -- or at least access to something worth selling.
The creature licked his eyeballs with his oversized pink tongue as he scanned the city landscape. He saw a half-dozen luxurious cargo ships tied up in the harbor far below -- this was a city with wealth to be sure. One ship scorched with burn marks listed to its port side. He could tell things weren't as peaceful as they appeared to be on the surface.
The figure heard the curfew bell ring out from its tower in the temple of Lirason. The stalls in the market square were closing up as the crowds began to die down. It was too late to try picking pockets. The little reptile was going to have to break in somewhere -- somewhere worth the trouble. At the top of a hill near the coast, an imposing stone manor loomed over the many homes and businesses of Andima's populace. The creature smiled a wide, toothy grin. “There'll be a pretty penny in there, I reckon,” he said to himself.
The intruder ran across the roof and vaulted over the alleyway to the warehouse next door. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he went unnoticed by the people below. The densely packed city provided a perfect elevated pathway up the hill to the stately mansion.
***
Amid the shadows, the phiblin activated his ultimate defense. His skin took on the mottled color of the stones of the manor's outer wall. He could imitate basic textures and colors, but in the lit interior of the decorated building, he would have to be more careful. He winked open his amber eyes briefly to preserve the display and find his bearings. Aided by the darkness, the small creature skittered along the fortification unseen toward the main building. He continued crawling below the parapets, passing a pair of guards conversing above.
“Did ya' hear what happened at the docks this afternoon?” the first guard inquired.
“I heard an explosion -- what was it?” his partner replied.
“A bloody ball of fire came flying off the pier and slammed into one of the Lord's cargo ships! Set the hull ablaze as it was coming into the harbor!”
“Sod off.”
“Strewth! Langston was on patrol down there earlier. Says they caught the fellow what cast it almost immediately. Bugger won't give up who he's working for, but it's gotta be one of the other spice barons.”
“Sloppy work, to get caught like that. What, the fool couldn't turn himself invisible or teleport away?”
“No mage that powerful is gonna get caught up in this mercantile feud -- too much risk.”
The phiblin recoiled at the mention of wizards. His people had little trust in magic that didn't come from a god or nature.
“Must be a neophyte looking to make some easy coin. Don't know what his getaway plan was.”
“Gonna be tough on any magic users now -- Lord Thariun will be calling for their heads after an attack like that.”
The creature continued onward to the manor proper. If all the guards were this distracted, getting the goods was going to be a snap.
The phiblin climbed to a third-story window, shimmied open the latch, and skittered inside. He glanced around the dark hallway -- there didn't appear to be anyone in the immediate area. “Now, on to the shinies!” he chittered as he continued down the corridor.
The creature took his time exploring the mansion, using his camouflage where he could, and his reflexes the rest of the time. He darted across ceilings and walls, down staircases, and behind tapestries. He sampled fine cheeses and cured pork from the larder, drank his fill from the holy water in the chapel, and relieved himself in the Lord's private lavatory. He froze as guards patrolling the halls passed by, then moved along after they left.
The little figure clung to the side of a balcony overlooking the great hall, where servants were bringing out the evening meal. Two people -- Lord and Lady Thariun he assumed -- reclined at the head of the main table while various officials and advisors sat around them. Their discussion echoed through the building.
“I want them all rounded up -- tonight!” Lord Thariun bellowed.
“My Lord, it will take some time,” an advisor explained. “Most practitioners of magic do so secretly, and finding them will require... subterfuge.”
“Nonsense! The wizards who run the magic shops! The clergy at the temple of Lirason! Surely they have contact with any underground mages or priests. They have to learn it from someone! Threaten them to get names -- find them! I'll not have rogue sorcerers causing mayhem in my city another moment!” He slammed his hand on the table, spilling a goblet of wine.
“Of course, my Lord. We'll start this evening.”
The creature wondered how far the Lord was willing to go on his crusade. Most human societies utilized some level of magic -- trying to find everyone with some skill in a city this size would be an impressive task.
“Take the court wizards with you to search for any trace of magic they can locate. Gather every magical item you can find. Bring them all to me! Register every magic user in town -- I want names and where they live. I want to know what each is capable of doing. If they don't cooperate, execute them!”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“First thing in the morning, check everyone coming in or out of the main gate. Question every visitor -- search every wagon. Not a drop of magic enters or leaves this city without me knowing about it!”
“Of course, my Lord.” The adviser rushed away from the table.
The phiblin frowned -- increased guard activity in the city was going to make selling or trading his stolen treasures locally more difficult than usual. And if they were searching wagons, he was going to have to find another way out of town -- via the river, perhaps.
He continued toward an ornate door, peered through the keyhole, and listened for any sounds. Satisfied that he was alone, he pulled a lockpick from his pack and got to work on the latch mechanism. It wasn't long before he heard the satisfying click and turned the handle to gain access to the lavish chamber before him.
The room flaunted its decor in rose and gold. Silk sheets adorned the massive bed. The gold inlay on the various dressers and cabinets caught the glint of the light from the hallway. There was certainly something of value he could acquire in this room. The little creature closed the door and relaxed, dropping his camouflage. He moved across the floor, scanning the chamber in the darkness. He started opening drawers and wardrobe doors while rummaging through various clothing, hairbrushes, and other sundries. He then focused his attention on a large wooden box that was sitting on top of a vanity. Crawling up on a nearby chair, he fiddled with the gold lock on the elaborate jewelry case.
Inside, the phiblin found his prize -- a multitude of rings and necklaces forged of precious metals and adorned with cut gemstones. He began loading up his pack with as much jewelry as he could gather. He draped gold chains over his head and slid silver bracelets over his wrists. After emptying the case, the creature began feeling around in all the nooks and crevices. Finding a hidden switch, a secret compartment in the case slid open. What he saw inside made his eyes grow even wider than usual.
A blue sapphire amulet wrapped in platinum and inlaid with ivory gave off a mystical glow. Its design appeared more exquisite than any item the creature had seen in his many years of larceny. “What are you, Love?” he cooed. He realized its origins as Qadimish -- the creation of an ancient civilization. This piece would be worth a significant quantity of gold to the right buyer.
The door to the bedroom swung open. The phiblin turned its head to the side. There stood Lady Thariun with a lit candlestick holder in her hand. As the light from the hallway lit up the ransacked bed chambers and the distracted creature standing within, she let out an ear-piercing scream.
The small character almost dropped the amulet as he jumped from the chair and ran to the window. He threw open the latch with one hand, clutching the glowing talisman in the other. The Lady swung at the creature -- the impact knocked him off the outer ledge.
“Guards! Arrest the phiblin!” Lady Thariun screeched from the window as the creature plummeted down onto the head of a guardsman below. The little figure slipped out of the guard's grip and ran across the courtyard, bits of jewelry dropping off his arms and neck.
“Over there! The blue light!” a guard bellowed.
The phiblin had the presence of mind to shove the glowing amulet into his pack, moments before a few arrows landed at his heels. He scurried up the wall, lept over the parapets, and landed on a rooftop outside the manor wall. In the darkness, he managed to escape into the city almost unseen.
***
A guard with a shadowy hood watched the phiblin as he hopped away. The dark figure spat on the ground and furrowed his brow. Two years of getting in a position at the Lord's manor close to the amulet had been undone in one night by a pathetic cat burglar. He scratched at the old scar on his cheek as he moved toward the stairs leading down from the wall.
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