Thiefling by Naomi M-B (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📖

sniffed and sat up straight. “I apologise for interrupting your conversation.”

“How come I don’t get an apology for you ruining my ears?” the orange haired boy asked, deadpan.

“Because- Ah, our client is here,” the man perked up, shooting his friend a look. With an aggrieved sigh, the boy swung his legs of the table and stood, just as two men in suits approached their table. Quiet words were exchanged between the three adults while the boy stared at the four friends with curiously blue eyes. As if sensing something foreboding Nya quickly launched into a conversation about Economics homework.

As the four strangers left, they fell silent.

“Let’s follow them,” Chad suggested, a manic grin on his face.

“Let’s not,” Em snapped back. A silence fell. “No! Why would we want to?”

Bran gave her a look while Chad said, “Because two mysterious dudes we’ve never seen before met up with two shady looking guys in suits and I definitely heard the word ‘transaction’.” Another pause. “C’mon, it’s like something from a movie!”

“Dammit,” she muttered as the four leaped to their feet simultaneously and raced out of the door.

There was no sign of them outside on the street. People bustled along the streets, eager to get home before late afternoon faded into early evening. But there was little evidence of the strangers.

“Hang on,” Nya told her friends. “I wanna try something.” She pressed her palm over her dominant right. Before she could activate a rune of search, Chad shouted. A shock of orange hair flashed from within the crowd.

*

“They’re gonna follow us,” Tilké mused as he left the diner behind their client, Master Manasai’s, agents.

“Yup.” Laron checked the lock on the case.

“One of them’s a Vikan.”

“Well spotted.”

“They might walk in on us.”

“Mm, hmm.” Laron flicked at non-existent lint on his sleeve.

“Can you make the deal alone?” This just earned a look. “Okay. We’ll meet up at the car in half an hour.” Without waiting for a reply, Tilké stepped into a side alley, running his fingers through his orangeing hair. The beloved pony tail shortened itself twisting into loose curls. His eyes darkened to brown and his skin lightened. As an afterthought, he made his cheek bones less pronounced and thinned the eyelashes. His jacket lengthened into a trench coat, a blue pigment eating through the fabric. He didn’t want to look like Laron exactly, just resemble him from a distance. The best part about the entire thing was that it took less than a second.

When the school children exited the diner, he smiled, long fingers tapping at his palms. As he watched the Vikan pressed a hand to her eye. He recognised the sign as the precursor to using a rune of sight or search.

If she did that she might find Laron.

With quick, light steps, he danced out of the alleyway, weaving through the crowd. It was the loud, brown haired one that had had been addressed as Chad that spotted him. He pointed wildly, exclaiming something while accidentally elbowing his male blonde friend in the head.

He had better move fast.

Unlike the Orb they had stolen last night, not all artefacts were for reselling. Some were for themselves. Unclipping the ornament from his braid, he threw it onto the ground. It took the form of a silver board, not unlike the hover boards that were fast replacing skateboards in the youths of today. Only this was much faster.

As expected, they took off after him.

Swerving along the curb, he dodged between pedestrians. Hands in his pockets, he moved only his feet and legs, keeping balance with acquired grace and ease. Behind him, the Vikan was pressing runes into her friend’s skin so that they could keep up. She was quite advanced considering she couldn’t be older than Laron who had only turned fifteen three months ago.

As he led them into a quieter district of the city, his mind began to formulate a plan. There was a chance they were beginning to realise he wasn’t actually Laron but he doubted they would give up now. All he had to do now was make them think he was completely unrelated to Laron and the Client and he could be on his way.

In the near deserted Old docks, there was an assortment of disused warehouses that he and Laron owned (neither of them actually used them, Tilké had bought them on a whim after a few too many drinks). It was one of the smaller ones he chose to stop by. Flipping the board up, he tucked it under his arm and made to open the door. Feigning bemused puzzlement, he looked up blinking. The four kids were staring at him, only the Vikan not out of breath. Upon seeing him properly, their faces fell.

“Y’a’right?” he asked, adding a slur to his words.

“Yeah,” the Vikan said, disappointment etched across her face. “Sorry.”

Shrugging, he opened the door knocking on it as he went. “Sorry I’m late,” he called to an empty room.

A simple sound glamour was needed for several voices of greeting and a gruffer voice saying, “You’re always late, Tamota.” The door slid shut behind him. Pressing his ear to the thin wall, he listened intently.

*

“Urgh,” Chad groaned, hands on his lower back as he rolled his head. “Such a waste of time.” Crouching, Em pulled open her bag to retrieve water.

“It was your idea,” she reminded him, downing half a bottle’s contents over her head. Bran sat down heavily on the floor.

“What was that thing he was on?” Bran asked, pulling off his shoe to massage his aching foot. “It was way faster than anything we have.”

“Mage board,” Nya said tracing runes over her aching muscles. “They’re modes of transport but they can be transformed into things that are easily carried like phones or… jewellery.” Realisation suddenly dawned on her. She pointed at Chad and made a talking gesture.

“Uh…” Chad blinked. “Cool. I wish I had one of those. I wonder if they’d be easier to do tricks with than a regular skateboard… though I suppose if the whole point of it is to not touch the- What are you doing?” His face morphed into an expression of incredulity.

Unimpressed, she glared at him. “I’m checking my purse,” she replied, when in fact she was tracing a complex bind rune on the floor just outside the door of the warehouse the orange haired guy had gone into. “We’re gonna need to get a taxi if we want to get home on time at this rate.”

“Right,” Chad said slowly. Still bemused, he glanced at Em and Bran who gave him ‘just go with it’ expressions. After several moments wherein Chad talked loudly about dinner, Nya leaped lightly to her feet. She murmured something and the rune appeared to vanish. “Alright!” He punched the air, energy slowly returning after the long run. “Let’s go get some food!”

“I swear you are always hungry,” Bran laughed, setting off down the road. Chattering about nothing they followed. It wasn’t until they were in the taxi and heading off toward their housing sector that they finally began to question what had happened. “What was all that about?” Bran instantly turned to Nya.

“I think that was the black haired guy,” she said, eyes fixed on her feet. “You remember the silver thing he had on his braid. I could sense it.”

“I thought Vikan’s couldn’t sense Magic users,” Em said slowly.

“No but we can sense magical items,” Nya replied, tone becoming firmer and more assured as she spoke. “There were definitely two artefacts with them. A stronger one and a weaker one. That board was definitely the same as the weaker one I sensed. I know it.” There was a silence as the other three glanced at each other. Despite magic being an everyday concept of human life there were still many rules and mysteries about magic only known by magic users themselves. It was only in recent years that the two communities were properly intermingling, so many secrets still remained unknown.

“We believe you,” Em assured her quietly.

“So…” Chad rubbed the back of his head, pulling a face. “The dude was using glamours?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” she told them, checking her watch. The taxi stopped at the entrance to their sector and she jumped out.

“Meet me at my house in ten minutes and I’ll tell you more. Anyway, I gotta go. See you!” With that she raced down the road.

“Hey!” Chad yelled after her. “What about the taxi fare?!”

*

Blood spilling from his mouth, Laron hacked a cough. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand. “What is the meaning of this?” he hissed, tone seeped in tempered fury.

Manasai let out a burst of laughter. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, “I’m double crossing you. Do you really think I’d let anyone who knows about this just walk away? Especially some easily bought brats. You clearly have no idea what this thing is worth.” He laughed again, for all the world a stereotypical villain. Fingers tapping against the black case, he watched as his associates sent Laron crashing back to the ground. “You may be a good thief, boy, but in a real fight, you’re not even a match for humans.”

Once again on his knees, Laron glared at him. “I hate businessmen that go back on their deals.” Hate rolled off of him in waves

“Shut him up,” Manasai snapped. “Kill him and then go find his friends. I know the man is pretty but from what I’ve heard that little brat you keep around is a pretty as a doll.  They’d make perfect presents for my sister. She loves pretty slaves.” He smiled at Laron’s expression. Sorcerers like him grew stronger the more control they had over people. It led to many of them developing a love of exercising and emphasising it whenever they could. “Tell me, do your friends react well to being beaten to within an inch of their lives?” The threat against Tilké and Lyria was the last straw.

Light began to pour from the intense blue eyes. Face outraged, Laron planted a hand against the bodyguards. The gleaming Unlocking circles surrounded his hands. Both man stiffened and gasped, shuddering as the molecular bonds within their bodies were undone. After several seconds, they fell to the ground, reduced to nothing more than sludge.

“I hate businessmen that go back on their deals,” Laron whispered, “but I hate people that threaten Tilké and Lyria even more.”

Of Lock picks and Runes

In progress

Taster:

Scents of coffee filled the air, streaming from the large coffee pot on the kitchen unit. With a slight pout, Lyria pushed a stool against the unit and climbed up onto it. Despite being nearly twelve, she was still so tiny and Tilké apparently saw it as part of his role as her brother to never let her forget it.

“You alright, shorty?” Tilké called over, grinning at the minute creases of a scowl across her little mouth.