Chapter 34. Freedom

  After his initiation, it seemed Jeremiah’s grace period as the newest cell member was over—as soon as he got home, the others explained that he was expected to start earning his keep.

  “It’s okay to start small,” said Dronkal. “I’ll cover you for a bit, and introduce you to our fence. But you’ll need to start bringing in the goods.”

  “Won’t Monty tell me when I need to steal something?” Jeremiah had almost been looking forward to the next challenge.

  “Nah, that’s just for the big jobs,” said Dronkal. “You want to eat every day, you gotta get some regular work going. Our last slip had a few targets he didn’t get to, you can start with those while you’re getting your bearings.”

  “You can always come to us for help,” said Shugga. “The subbies are available to you, too. Just, for the love of the gods, don’t go to Pete.”

  There was a murmur of agreement around the room.

  “Why? What’s wrong with Pete?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Oh, he gets everyone at some point,” said Shugga. “He can provide a solution to almost any problem, and he tends to show up when someone is at their most desperate.”

  “But he’s a master of trading one copper for two,” said Sweet Melissa, “You’ll always end up giving more than you got, in the end.”

  “How many favors do you owe Pete?” asked Dronkal.

  “I think three,” said Jeremiah.

  The others winced.

  ?

  ?

  ?

  —

  “What are we looking at?” asked Bruno in Jeremiah’s head.

  He had been lurking across a small grassy courtyard from his target for the last thirty minutes, pressed flat and out of sight among the hollyhocks.

  “Manor house, windows locked. The help is cleaning, going from room to room. Nice and orderly.”

  “And what does orderly mean?” asked Bruno.

  “Predictable.”

  Rise.

  The rat Jeremiah had obtained stirred to life. It scampered out of Jeremiah’s hand, and ran for the front door, squeezing under with plenty of room to spare.

  Jeremiah felt a twinge of guilt for using necromancy again after Delilah had said how interesting he was for giving it up, but this manor wasn’t going to burgle itself.

  Run. Evade. Squeak.

  The screaming began soon after. It was a sizable rat, the largest one Jeremiah could find that had not yet decayed. Jeremiah dashed across the courtyard and hid behind a topiary, just below the window he intended to enter.

  “What do you hear?” asked Bruno.

  Jeremiah concentrated. “ Multiple voices, moving. Yelling ‘rat’ in gnomish. It’s become an all hands on deck problem .”

  “Is the yelling loud enough to use as cover?”

  “No.” Jeremiah tapped the window. “Awfully thick glass. They’ll hear it all over the house.”

  “You’ll need a new ingress then,” said Bruno.

  “No time.” Jeremiah pulled his inscription pick and rapidly scratched at the glass—Decay And Decay And Decay.

  Jeremiah reached up to charge the diagram, then hesitated. He added two more runes at the beginning. The diagram now read Adhesion And Decay And Decay And Decay

  He charged the diagram and swayed on his feet. Not since the Giant’s Bag recharge had he tried that many active runes simultaneously. He waited another minute, hoping the rat could keep up the chase just a little longer, then scratched out the Cohesion rune.

  The window shattered, but with only a pop and hiss of tiny glass pellets raining down. Jeremiah pulled himself inside.

  “Make sure you tell me about this,” said Bruno.

  “Will do.”

  Screams from the other side of the house told Jeremiah the rat was still doing its job. He hurried to the living room and grabbed the elaborately decorated sword from the mantle, wrapping it in an old sheet to avoid attention and cutting himself on the blade.

  Jeremiah was about to leave when he saw the chests of silverware stacked near the dining table. With the entire staff distracted trying to kill a zombie rat, he risked opening one.

  “ Woah, them’s some fancy forks,” said Bruno.

  More than just silver, they were filigreed to an absurd degree. Soup spoons in the shape of clam shells, knives with sweeping and curled tips, and a half dozen different varieties of fork with tiny designs etched into them.

  “Bet they make the soup taste better,” thought Jeremiah. He lay the sword on top and lifted three cases, huffing at the weight. With some difficulty, he swung his legs back out the window and dropped down, then took to the street where the traffic swept him towards the subs he had recruited for the job.

  “Don’t let them ask, give freely as though it’s a gift,” whispered Delilah.

  “You may not have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but it’s not too late!” Jeremiah said as he reached the rendezvous point.

  The Subs opened the chests and were dumbstruck by the ridiculous cutlery.

  “My kid and I ate a pigeon with our bare hands the other night, and these assholes are using knives shaped like leaves,” said one.

  “Kid...” The word stuck in his head, wedged firmly. Stark, yet strangely undefined.

  “It’s hard to think of hungry children, isn’t it?” said Vivica, “But they’re real. They’re oh, so real.”

  “Then consider these leaves liberated for a better cause,” said Jeremiah. “Fence the sword for Cell Four and divide the silverware among yourselves.”

  The subs’ surprise soon evolved into excitement when they realized Jeremiah was being serious. They thanked him over and over.

  It felt good.

  —

  “ He’s home and he’s got a dog ,” said Jeremiah.

  “Dogs are the worst,” said Bruno.

  Jeremiah recalled the rant Bruno would go on whenever the topic of dogs came up. “Even the littlest ones are dangerous. They’re all noisy, they’re all territorial, and the big ones will actually hurt you. Oh, just kill the dog, you say? Now you’re a guy that kills dogs and people hate you. Kill a person? Big deal. Kill a dog? You’re an asshole.”

  “ Yes, yes, I know. Dog only likes his people and the people his people like .”

  Jeremiah peered down at the small double apartment rented by his next target, an ancient halfling man with a bull mastiff. Jeremiah had climbed to the roof of an adjacent apartment for a better view.

  “That's a halfling war mastiff,” said Allison. “He was a rider, elite military. Those dogs are trained like soldiers. Very dangerous.”

  “An officer. He’ll be tough to fool,” said Delilah.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “So, what will you do?” they asked.

  “Wait,” said Jeremiah.

  Over an hour passed, the sun dipping toward the horizon. But eventually, the dog went to sit by the front door. The halfling man appeared to let him outside. He strapped a saddle to the dog’s back, balancing carefully, his trusty mount bearing him with great care.

  “Good girl, Calliope, that’s a good girl.” The man’s wizened voice drifted to Jeremiah’s perch. “Let’s take a nice walk. Where would you like to go today?”

  Jeremiah laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. “That’s not a dog, that is a small bear!” The mastiff was immense and composed of solid muscle. Its head in particular was abnormally large—Jeremiah was sure it could enclose a human skill in its mouth with room to spare. He was thankful he hadn’t suffered a fit of insanity and decided to enter the house while it was lurking.

  Unfortunately an evening stroll was a popular activity, and the streets were rife with potential witnesses and the occasional guard. No breaking a window or picking a lock on the ground floor without attracting attention. Jeremiah considered waiting till nightfall, but that would mean Calliope, the four legged war machine, would be home.

  “All that practice for nothing,” said Bruno.

  “Ugh, fine, I’ll do it,” thought Jeremiah.

  A few minutes later, Jeremiah held a rope procured for him by a sub. He picked up two loose, flat, cobble stones and pulled out his enchanting equipment.

  Cohesion and Strengthen

  He placed the stone on the roof and charged it. The rock held fast, fixed in place. He tied one end of the rope to the secured brick, and one end to the brick he was still working on.

  Strengthen And If Contact Pause Pause Cohesion If Cohesion Cohesion

  Writing as small as he possibly could, he still only barely managed to fit all the runes on the stone. He spent a moment to admiring his work. It was easily the most complex diagram he had ever done.

  Jeremiah charged the brick, waited for his head to clear, then touched the Contact and heaved the brick across the street. It bounced down the gentle slope of the target roof before suddenly sticking in place.

  “Ha! I can’t believe that worked!” Jeremiah said. “Now we just…ah, dang it.”

  The bounce down the roof had introduced enough slack in the rope that it hung halfway down the building. A couple of quick cuts and a new knot he’d learned from Sweet Melissa, and he was back in business with a taught line connecting his roof to the target’s.

  “I can shimmy this,” he thought.

  “I should hope so,” said Bruno.

  “Wrap your hands,” said Allison.

  Jeremiah shimmied inch by inch over the street, thankful for the handwraps. The people rushing far below thankfully kept their eyes on the road…save one. A young man in a fanciful hat stared up at Jeremiah from the roadside, half eaten apple still in hand. They both froze, eyes locked, the young man mid-chew.

  Jeremiah scowled at him and shook his head. The young man returned his eyes to the street and kept eating his apple.

  “Good man,” thought Jeremiah. He finished crossing the rope and crawled up on the roof, a quick descent got him through an open second floor window.

  The house was like a museum. Maps framed behind glass covered the walls, still sporting notes and scribbles from ages long past. Trophies of battle stood proudly on every surface, each one telling a story that Jeremiah couldn’t hear.

  “This man served an honorable life,” said Allison.

  “ Yeah, I can see that ,” said Jeremiah. Knowing his friend’s opinions was not always helpful.

  Jeremiah’s target was a uniform, which he found on a small sized dress dummy. Carefully pressed and immaculate, it stood sentry, facing the bed like a guardian against regret. It was nearly covered in stately medals and insignias.

  Allison’s medal box sprang to Jeremiah’s mind. “ This is his legacy ,” said Allison. “ This uniform represents the culmination of a life of hard work. ”

  “ I don’t like it either ,” said Jeremiah, unbuttoning the uniform, “ but I need to do what I need to do .”

  He bundled up the uniform, undoubtedly giving it creases that it hadn’t held in a long time. But before he did, he plucked every adornment and laid them carefully on the bed. The job had requested he steal a uniform, and a uniform was all he would take.

  –

  The occupants of the illustrious smoking room screamed as Jeremiah exploded through the window, a square of wood Adhered to his forearm shielding him from the worst of the glass shards. Jeremiah snatched a framed painting off the wall and a decanter of liquor from the sideboard, and dove out through another window.

  –

  “Your loyal servant returns!” Jeremiah announced, returning to headquarters. The Stonefist subs cheered. Jeremiah tossed a jewelry box and a pair of wine bottles to some waiting hands. He now found plenty of eager assistants for his work, and a warm welcome anywhere subs saw him.

  Working through the list Dronkal had given him had led Jeremiah to a bit of a reputation for retrieving specific items for interested buyers. The premium was considerable, and the objects in question tended to be less heavily guarded than money.

  There were a few oddities thrown in, of course—twice Jeremiah had to stab a folded letter to a headboard or door with daggers. Once he had to leave a set of wet manacles at the top of a staircase. And on one occasion he wasn’t required to steal anything at all, only to toss the place to make it look like someone had been unable to find what they sought.

  All in all, aside from occasional stabs of guilt over stealing someone’s most prized possession, he found the work varied and enjoyable—each case was a unique situation, calling upon his skillset in unexpected ways and demanding innovation. His enchanting was improving by leaps and bounds, both in designing diagrams and executing them efficiently. He was astonished at what he could accomplish. He knew so few words, but creativity in their usage meant very little could be kept safe from him. His Decay rune in particular made short work of any barrier, with his Gently rune ensuring the results could be easily controlled. With time and a surface to write on, he could Decay through most anything.

  One of the subs tapped Jeremiah on the shoulder. “Boss wants to see you.”

  Jeremiah immediately felt like a little boy about to be in trouble, although as far as he knew he had nothing to be worried about. He headed down to Monty’s office, trying to reassure himself of that fact.

  “Jay,” said Monty as he entered. “Please sit.”

  Jeremiah settled himself on the floor. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I’ve heard a rumor you’ve been giving gifts to the subs," said Monty.

  Jeremiah hesitated. It suddenly occurred to him the gang boss might expect all stolen items to be subject to their usual cut. Was he about to be accused of stealing from Monty?

  “I don’t know if I’d call them gifts, boss. More like… extras,” said Jeremiah. “Subs are people too, even if they’re not officially part of the Stonefists.”

  “Your ‘extras’ have been affecting recruitment and retention,” said Monty, “Subs are leaving less often, and more promising candidates are showing up. Importantly, the quality of work we’re seeing from the subs we already have is improving. You’ve been giving back to the gang.”

  “Oh,” said Jeremiah. The praise made him feel uncomfortable. It reminded him of how much he was hiding.

  “The strongest gangs grow from the bottom up. A stronger foundation lets the tower rise higher. What I’m saying, Jay, is thank you. You’re a rare talent,” said Monty.

  “You’re welcome, boss,” said Jeremiah. He shifted, wondering if some other response was expected of him.

  “I also want to apologize for the incident with the counselor,” said Monty, his voice dipping ever so slightly. “That was crass and prideful of me. I was certain I had discovered some secret of yours, a folly I let guide my actions in place of wisdom.”

  “S’alright,” said Jeremiah. This he had even less idea what to do with.

  “I was wondering, Jay, if you would join me for a drink.” Monty drew a decanter and a pair of tumblers from his desk.

  “Oh! Yeah, okay.”

  “This is a special vintage from my youth,” said Monty, pouring the whisky. He circled to the front of the desk and handed a glass to Jeremiah. “I see myself in many of the people you’re helping, Jay.”

  “In the subs, boss?” asked Jeremiah, taking the glass. It was a comparison with quite the gulf.

  Monty nodded. “It’s where I started. Where most people start. And over years and years, I’ve connived, swindled, beaten, and murdered my way up the chain.” He listed off the crimes with exasperation. Monty almost returned to his seat, but seemed to think twice on it, and instead sat down on the floor with Jeremiah.

  “I guess that’s just the way of things,” said Jeremiah. The whiskey smelled like a wood fire.

  “Indeed it is. We do what we have to do. And what we have to do, oftentimes, is just keep ourselves alive.” Monty was gazing into his tumbler, letting the amber liquor swirl.

  “You seem to be doing a bit better than most,” said Jeremiah. This was a very strange turn of events. Why was Monty telling him this?

  “Only because I stand on the backs of those I’ve crushed underfoot. And if any one of them,” at this he gestured upward toward the common room of the headquarters, “wants anything more out of life than the squalor they live in, they’ll need to do the same.”

  “Kick down?” asked Jeremiah.

  Monty nodded. “Kick down, aye. The Pit is a great big bucket of crabs all making sure no one gets out, cause that’ll be one less back to stand on.”

  They sat quietly. Jeremiah sipped the whiskey and, despite his efforts, emitted the tiniest cough.

  “I’ve got a way out,” said Monty, “for all of us, I think.”

  “Out of…what, the Pit? The lifestyle?” asked Jeremiah.

  “All of it. But it’s going to require that I give more than I already have. I’m going to need your help as well, if you’re the right man for the job.”

  Jeremiah was intrigued now, this was sounding some sort of easy way out. An ultimate solution to a very complicated problem.

  “No such thing,” said Allison.

  “I’m sure I’m up for it,” said Jeremiah.

  “No, you’re not. Not yet. There’s better thieves than you in this city, better cutthroats too. But I need someone who can see the bigger picture. Someone who understands the value of being free from all of…this.” Monty picked up a pinch of dirt from the floor and rubbed it between his fingers, before sprinkling just a pinch into his whiskey and sipping it.

  “You just let me know what needs doing,” said Jeremiah. This was it. Jeremiah was on the verge of something, likely exactly what he was looking for.

  Monty raised the remnants of his drink. “To freedom.”

  Jeremiah mirrored the salute. “To freedom.”