Hidden in the Snow
A Fantasy One Shot
Thanks to for his Flash Fiction Friday prompts. I used two for this story, the type of character that wants to remain hidden from the 14th February and write about a blizzard from the 21st February. If you write fiction and sometimes struggle for an idea Scoot posts 4 prompts every Friday on his SubStack Gibberish.
The snow swirled around Lael in thick clumps, the wind howled and he felt frost on his eyelashes and climbing up his nostrils. Why he'd agreed to do anything in winter was beyond him. Sleeping in the attic of The Last Stand seemed a lot more appealing, even if it leaked where the slates had slipped and the only warmth was mouldering old furs. The Last Stand had been a great winter hideaway before it was shuttered for good, the thieves who used it as their den left Lael to himself if he left them to themselves. He hadn't bothered with them, except for a bit of drinking when he came upon a few coin in summer, but mostly he kept to the attic accessed by a slim hole in the roof.
He thought back to the offer, it was too good to pass on, he knew that. Room and board, a steady wage, and a clan to call home, so long as he completed his jobs to satisfaction. The winter job was a test, he knew that, to see if he had the constitution to do the hard graft when necessary. He could. He did. He would just prefer it were summer, or at least spring, was all. At least they'd provided him with a wool lined seal skin cloak to keep him dry, at least partially. His boots were soaked through and the icy chill was climbing up his legs. The thieves had lost a hideout but only one had been caught, the rest scattered for a week or so and then reformed in a new place. A letter came a few days later, wedged between the loose bricks Lael hid his spare coins. He'd only had one when the letter came and the thief who dropped it off had left it, a sign of good will Lael supposed.
The snow hid a lethal sheen of ice beneath it that he had to be wary off. The blizzard hid him, and everyone else, from sight, Lael could barely see more than three feet ahead of him, even the lanterns of the various pubs and brothels were invisible from the path he'd chosen in the centre of the road. He figured the guards would keep to the edges, stopping by the ale houses to warm up, only the most diligent guard would keep his route in such a howling blizzard and Cresston lacked for such diligence, most of the time.
Lael's job was simple. Break into Fesgeth Manor and steal a sapphire necklace, a specific sapphire necklace, which the headman, Hugh, had given him a drawing of. A very clear drawing on fine parchment paper, likely stolen from the jewellers who made it. A servant had revealed where the necklace was kept. All Lael had to do was steal it, why or who for didn't matter. Someone had paid and now Lael needed to earn his keep, maintain the reputation of the thieving clan, and prove himself worthy to be invited in. He'd never told Hugh or any of the others what he did for coin in the summer but somehow they knew. He avoided thinking about what else they could know.
A rich glow bled through the blizzard, the colour of persimmons, and Lael knew he was close to his destination. The Manor loomed in close at hand, its massive walls and iron doors barred to the road. A few shutters remained open to the elements, forgotten by the staff and family alike. Lael crossed from the centre of the road to the edge and ran his hand along the brick wall. Icicles hung from ledges overhead and clung to the mortar lines. He peered straight up, pressing himself to the wall, searching for anything he could hold onto or wedge a toe onto but there wasn't and the windows where too high to jump up to.
Lael circled the walled manor, his hood pulled low. He turned the second corner of the building and was losing hope when the wall opened up into a pathway that led into a courtyard at the back of the manor. There was a gate but it lay open and he wondered if that had been done on purpose, if some other servant had been paid of, or if Lady Luck had smiled upon him. He would pay his respects to her regardless for she was known to have a soft spot for thieves and hidden things. He scurried down the alleyway, thankful to be out of the snow for a short while. The ground was pristine white as new snow kissed the ground inside the courtyard, save for the footprints of a cat in one corner crossing from window to window, now both shuttered and barred from the inside. A number of doors led off the courtyard, all were closed but not necessarily locked, Lael hoped. There was a cart full of empty barrels to one side and a wood store to the other. One of the doors would lead to a kitchen, he was certain, the others... he headed to the nearest and tried the handle. It didn't budge. Nor did the second, or the third, or the fourth. The fifth was the last door, recently lacquered and gleaming in the fresh snow that rested gently on its decorative carvings. The handle turned, the lock clicking open. Warm air and a glow struck Lael as he entered. The air was hot and dry and made him sweat in the wool lined seal skin cloak. The snow on his boots melted and pooled on the terracotta tiles. He considered removing his shoes to avoid leaving trace of himself but if he had to leave by a different way he'd be out in the blizzard without any shoes, a quick way to lose toes. Instead he decided to be swift, allowing his ego to overcome his sense.
Lael was in a corridor of doors that culminated in a wide open kitchen. The doors, he figured, hid store rooms and bedrooms for servants and so he went as quick as he could in silence, the only remnants the melted snow. The kitchen was larger than the entirety of The Last Stand had been with more stoves and ovens than he'd seen in his life. The centre was dominated by a long stretch of worktop littered with pots, pans, knives, whisks, ladles, and whatever else the cooks needed. To one end he spied an archway leading to a staircase, the servants one he hoped, and rushed for it.
He ascended one floor and the terracotta tiles gave way to carpet, which would at least absorb the melting snow from his boots and cloak. He climbed to the top floor and reached a door, black with a brass handle. Pressing an ear to the wood he listened.
There was silence.
Lael opened the door and emerged into a room with books lining one wall, shuttered windows the other, and a collection of harpsichords in the centre, all with sheet music stacked on top of them. Hugh had told him about this room, the sapphire necklace was kept in a safe in one of the rooms off it. A small room that was hidden between a number of other rooms, once a boudoir but now storage for valuables.
He snuck across the room, the last embers of fire burning in the three fireplaces provided light enough to see. Nestled between bookcases was a door made to look like the wall, complete with dado rail, but the miniscule brass lined keyhole glinted in the fire light. It opened with a push. The room beyond was pitch black.
Lael found a candle holder on one of the shelves with half a candle in it, he lit it in one of the fireplaces and approached the boudoir-safe. There were three safes against the wall, all taller than he was and made of thick black iron. He set the candle on a desk opposite the safes and tried the handle of each one, none moved. He fished his picks out of his pockets, his hands not quite warm enough to work them, he thought, but he tried anyway. After a short while the first safe popped open. There was nothing inside, not even dust. He waited a moment, listening to the manor around him. Nothing stirred and that made him nervous. He began working the second safe and just as the lock was about to click the candle went out.
'The new recruit I take it?' a croaking voice crept through the dark.
Lael spun around and made to run.
'No need to go,' the woman continued. 'I was expecting you. Hugh hired you, didn't he?'
Lael was struck dumb.
'You have a talent, that's for sure, but it needs refinement. I can provide you that refinement, whatever Hugh offered you I'll double it but on one condition,' the faint outline of a finger rose in the velvet dark.
Lael swallowed hard, 'Which is?' his voice was a rasp.
'I want you to go back to Hugh, with this,' the sapphire necklace appeared before him. 'And steal something for me, and bring this back. A test if you will.'
'This was my test.'
'Yes but Hugh runs a shoddy operation and is almost caught so often that he hops around the city like a vagrant. I have been here for thirty five years and no one has suspected a thing. Will you join me, like a few select others have before you, Hugh among them, though he was a disappointment?' the woman's words dripped with temptation.
'If we could speak face to face,' Lael wanted to see her, wanted to know who she was exactly.
'We are and we will only ever meet in the dark of dark,' her voice gained a bite.
'Where will I live?'
'Here, with a healthy stipend that will have you living like a king, so long as you satisfy your assignments.'
Lael rubbed his head and felt a longing for the attic above The Last Stand, his attic. Life had become complicated now, he was embroiled in other people's rivalries, other people's problems, all for a sniff of coin. Not a sniff, a veritable feast if this woman spoke truth. 'Deal,' Lael said.
'I expected nothing less,' the sapphire necklace was dropped into Lael's hand. 'You'll need this,' a bundle of paper was shoved into his hand as well. 'Best get to it,' the woman vanished without a sound.
Lael stepped out of the boudoir-safe and into the library. He unrolled the paper while admiring the necklace, the sapphire was the size of his fist and mounted in a gold shield on a gold chain. He began to read and his heart sank when he realised he'd be going back out into the blizzard.
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I love a good thieves' rivalry story. Hope to hear more about this!