If that's all there was here, why bother locking the drawer?

I'm sure you figured that one out; there was only one answer: the purloined-letter trick, the idiot version-as in both by and for an idiot.

I pulled the drawer out and placed it on the desktop, measuring it with the calipers from my lockpicking kit. Sure enough, there was a full three-centimeter gap between the bottom of the inside of the drawer and the bottom of the outside.

Finding the catch was tricky; Elren had been very clever. It took a full thirty seconds.

I lifted off the false bottom, and, scattered among rings and gems and stones of all sizes, there it was.

Amos van Ingstrand's brooch.She hadn't broken it up. Which meant either that she was being very clever, biding her time until she could move it offworld, or...

... or she was hanging on to it, to sell it whole back to van Ingstrand, along with the ident.i.ty of the man she'd bought it from.

It didn't matter, not anymore; I tucked the brooch into my inner sleeve pouch, dumped the rest of the rings and gems into my shoulderbag-including the yags, on the grounds of why not?-and spent half a second debating whether or not to look for other valuables, as long as I was here.

I guess that Carlos One-Hand trained me too well; I reached for my picks.

That greed saved my life. If I'd walked to the door...

As I was working on the first side drawer, there was a scrabbling outside the door, and five hand-sized vrasti ran in, concealing themselves-or trying to-in the curtains.

Behind them, the door swung gently open.

And three t'Tant, flying single-file, flapped slowly after them.

Later, it all made sense: the lack of alarms, b.o.o.bytraps, or human guards; the loose security; the vrasti in the upstairs hall. Elren Mac Cormier was cheap. Instead of sh.e.l.ling out coin for any normal type of protection, she had merely offered the t'Tant access to a building filled with tasty vrasti-plus a possible occasional burglar, as a side dish-in return for being locked in for the night. The only cost would be live-trapping some vrasti-or maybe she raised them in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

A fine deal for the t'Tant, and one that their daylight selves would easily find agreeable. In the morning, both the sunlight streaming in the windows and the' bright electric lights in the house would make it safe for her to show them out, quite possibly through the trapdoor in the second-story ceiling.

It all made sense much later, but right then I stood stock-still for a long moment, dumbfounded, not moving until the nearest of the t'Tant was within inches of my face, its claws outstretched.

I ducked down, under the desk, pulling my shoulder-bag with me. One of the t'Tant landed behind the desk and began clawing at the shoulderbag, trying to get at me. Most of the damage was to my bag, but as the t'Tant slashed it to ribbons, spilling the contents over the floor, one of its claws drew a long gouge down my left arm, ripping my tunic.

I kicked at the t'Tant, and felt wingbones crunch as I knocked it away, but that didn't make things any better: a fresh t'Tant took its place.

There was no way out. The t'Tant could easily keep this up until morning, and morning was hours away. I couldn't hold them off for long.

My fingers scrabbled on the ground, looking for some weapon, something, anything that would buy me a few more seconds of life.

They fell on a concussior; I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. Kicking at the t'Tant, I tried to find another, but the rest of the contents of my bag were too widely scattered. I could see two other concussiors on the floor, but if I tried to reach out and take them, all three t'Tant would be able to get at me.

Blood ran down my arm and onto the concussior. Maybe, just maybe, it would shock them, stun them just long enough for me to get at the other concussiors, and perhaps the bar. One steel bar against threet'Tant wasn't much of a chance, but it was my only chance.

I thumbed the concussior and flicked it out into the room, squeezing myself farther back into the recess, fighting to keep the t'Tant's claws away from my face.

Whomp!

The concussior went off, deafeningly loud, the light so bright it leaked around the eyeseals of my goggles.

They flared into a bright red as their circuits overloaded.

Everything went black; the goggles were dead.

Blindly, I kicked at the t'Tant. It fell away limply. That was strange.

I yanked the goggles off my face.

The three t'Tant spread their wings in the dying light of the concussior, chirruping merrily, ignoring the flames licking at the base of the curtains behind them, I didn't take the time to think it through. I dived out of the protection of the desk, scooped up my last two concussiors, thumbed and threw one, then ran out of the room, my ears already ringing so loudly I didn't hear the sound of its ignition as it flashed behind me.

It was the light, of course; the bright light of the concussior had awakened the t'Tants' plant brains, which were much more interested in tasty wavelengths than tasty me.

I crept back through the dark night, my eyes on the sky, the brooch heavy in my sleeve. I'd managed to beat Elren Mac Cormier's security system, and while I'd lost my pack, I'd gotten what I came for. I could sell the brooch to Benno. Without it as evidence, Elren wouldn't dare approach van Ingstrand, no matter how angry she was. She would know that old Amos would kill her for first having, then losing it.

Safe. For the first time since I'd been idiot enough to steal the d.a.m.n thing, and even more of a fool to turn it over to Carlos One-Hand, I was safe.

I felt very clever, all the way home.

The floor of the tunnel was littered with slivers of stone. Someone had triggered one of our b.o.o.bytraps.

I dialed my flash down to low, until I could barely see in its dim glow. Normally, I wouldn't have worried about it. All that meant was that someone had tripped one of our warning traps; likely, whoever it was had run off.

But, combined with everything else, it was better to play it cautiously. I crept forward, listening for any sound, my one remaining concussior ready in my hand, just in case.

As I approached the rubble heap that blocked off our home, I heard a distant moaning from inside.

Slowly, silently, I climbed up the heap and looked down.

Carlos One-Hand lay on the green everclean rug, naked and dead, dark pools of his blood already congealing, blind eyes staring up toward the ceiling. They'd worked him over thoroughly before killinghim, but what could he had told them? That I was supposed to be here, but that I'd sneaked out when he went to sleep?

That wouldn't have earned him even a quick death.

But where was Marie? She was only a child; maybe they wouldn't have hurt her. I slid down into the room.

She lay curled in the corner. Carlos was dead, but she was worse. "David," she said, her voice cracking in pain. "Make it stop hurting. Please."

My stomach rebelling, I pawed through a pile of booty. There was some valda oil, somewhere around; that would help. I'd have to get some help, but where? How could I find help at night- There was a voice behind me. "Good evening. We've been waiting for you, David." A large blocky man, his tunic splattered with blood, sat on top of the rubble pile, a crossbow leveled at me.

He gestured with the bow. "Over here, please."

I triggered the concussior and threw it at him, diving for the control box in the corner as I did. The bolt whizzed past me, tugging at my tunic as it buried itself in the rug.

Whomp!

The light beat at my closed eyes; the noise deafened me, but I reached the box, thumbed it to live, and pushed the b.u.t.ton.

There was a louder explosion, beating dust into the air as the tunnel collapsed over the entrance to our home, burying the man, blocking the others outside, at least temporarily.

My head spun as I turned back to Marie. There was nothing I could do for her, as she lay there, her eyes pleading with me, her mouth working. Our back door was a rough, narrow tunnel; I could barely squeeze through it myself. Pulling her behind me just wasn't possible.

And she would need help soon, or she would be dead. They hadn't been gentle with her.

Please, her lips said, make it stop hurting, David.

I did.

G.o.d forgive me, I did.

I lowered myself to the floor of the shaft outside the back door, then dropped the rope. I wouldn't need it, ever again. I wouldn't be back there, ever again.

But what could I do now? I was wanted by Amos van Ingstrand-though he couldn't have wanted me any more than I wanted him dead-and now even Lower City wouldn't be safe for me. Carlos and Marie had certainly described me for his men; my makeup kit was back inside.

And I wasn't going back inside. Not ever.

I had to do something. I couldn't just wait for them to hunt me down. I had to get away. If I could somehow make my way to the 'port and buy pa.s.sage off Oroga, I'd be safe.I had to. But where would I get the money? I couldn't work the markets, not now.

The answer had to be in the warrens. Others lived here; most of them would leave during the day, trusting to their own b.o.o.bytraps or lockboxes to protect their valuables. Not that there would be many valuables.

But that didn't matter. I'd go for quant.i.ty, not quality.

After working my way for some distance through the underground maze, I sat back against the rough-hewn wall and thumbed my flash off. I'd have to wait until it was daylight outside and the rest of the warren dwellers had left. That would take hours.

But I had the time. There wasn't anyone waiting for me.

Please make it stop hurting, David, please...

Not anymore.

I heard that voice all through the long night.

FOURTH INTERLUDE:.

Eschteef and the Burglar Eschteef woke suddenly from a sound sleep, coming completely awake.

This waking was not normal; Eschteef was too alert.

Schrift do not sleep through the whole night. They awaken halfway through their sleeping period for the thyvst. The root of the word is athyv-"foolishness"; the time is usually one of slow activity, and temporarily lowered intelligence. The middle of the night was a time for the sorting of low-value gems, or the cleaning of the burrow-any task that required effort, but not great thought or creativity.

So, why am I awake? Trouble for another member of the schtann could awaken it, of course, but it was almost alone in its head; the others still slept.

Strange. Eschteef had not wakened in the night since it was a youngling.

Eschteef eyed the chrono mounted over the door to its sleeping niche. It lacked more than an hour until its usual time of thyvst.

So, why do I awaken? At a quiet whisper of sound from the outer room, it rose from the blanket-lined depression in the floor, keeping itself in a half-crouch.

There was something in the outer room, something that felt strange. Eschteef opened its mind. No, this was not one of the schtann, but there was something...

Eschteef peered through the curtains, into the outer room. Holding a hand flash, a young human stood over its work table, brushing sc.r.a.ps of silver and gold into a bag.

Strange... Eschteef quelled its first instinct, to attack and eat the thief. This was the same boy who had reacted to its chrost.i.th in the marketplace the day that the human van Ingstrand's brooch had been stolen.

Eschteef had felt something in its head that day, something that might almost have been cherat.

It had reported that to Hrotisft, expecting an explanation. Hrotisft had given it only abuse.'Nonsense,' Hrotisft had said, with a hiss partly of irritation, partly of amus.e.m.e.nt. Theoretically, it was possible to feel cherat with an alien; yes, there had been alien members of other schtanns, and even a few such members of the metal-and-jewel-workers schtann, but no human was worthy of membership in the metal-and-jewel-workers schtann. 'The poor creatures,' Hrotisft had said. 'And poor Eschteef! I am the one who should be losing its faculties, not you.' It had hissed again.

Eschteef hadn't liked that hiss. Alerting the rest of the schtann would only expose it to more abuse, more laughter.

It would deal with this human itself.

One way or another.

CHAPTER SIX:.

"It May Be of the Schtann..."

The second-to-last place that I burglarized was relatively easy.

Back when the silver mine was operating, it must have been a storage room for valuable tools, or perhaps explosives: the carved-out room was secured by a solid steel door set into the stone, secured with a combination lock.

I had to be careful. It was several hours since I had last heard people returning home down the corridors-now it was night outside, and the room was likely occupied. Conceivably, once I solved the lock and started to open the door, the hinges would squeak, alerting whoever was inside to my presence.

The door was large and heavy, probably of offworld import. I had high hopes for its hinges. The combination lock, on the other hand, looked and felt local. As I turned it, I could feel that the lubricant inside had long since worn away. I could practically hear the tumblers click; it was no challenge at all.

The combination ended with a solid thunk as all the secondaries fell into place. I turned my flash off, pushed on the latch, and slowly pulled at the door.

It swung open silently on what were, no doubt, imbedded-silicone hinges. Bless the Earthies-when they set their little minds to it, they can make things that last forever.

I stood silently in the dark, listening to the deep snores of the sleeper inside. A sound sleeper, I hoped. I walked inside, dialing my flash to low by touch.

Over in the corner of the room, someone slept under a pile of blankets, food rinds and winebottles scattered around him.

There was nothing much worth taking-a few pouches of beef, a bottle of wine. Whoever lived here was almost as poor as I was; the most valuable thing he owned was the combination to that door. Leaving the wine, I scooped the food pouches into my bag and left, closing the door behind me, and worked my way deeper into the warrens.

I paused in front of a ma.s.sive wooden door, shaking off my exhaustion. I was deep inside the warrensnow, and quickly running out of options. I didn't have anything near the price of a ticket, and I still hadn't found anything that could serve as a disguise, something to give me a decent chance of going out into the city, working my way to Benno the Exchanger's place, then booking pa.s.sage offworld.