Have Spacecat, Will Travel: And Other Tails John Hartness (reading cloud ebooks TXT) 📖

back wall of the jewelry store in full view of anyone who happens to look out their rear window or wander outside, then slip into the man’s bedroom as he sleeps within, make your way downstairs, steal the necklace, and exit the way you came. All without waking the jeweler or being seen. Simple.

Oh, ye of little faith, Remarin replied. Besides, I have no intention of climbing that wall where any idiot could see me. This one will do just fine. With that, he turned his attention to the alley wall opposite where he stood. The brick was old, but sturdy, with few holes or missing blocks. Remarin took a running start and leapt for a decorative ledge about ten feet from the ground. His fingers just caught on the narrow surface, and he turned his feet sideways to gain what meager purchase was there.

The slender man’s fingers, strengthened from years of just this type of activity, held firm as he hauled his body up the wall. Flakes of mortar scraped from the joints in the wall as he inched upward, finally slithering up the vertical surface until he balanced on the inches-wide ledge with his toes. He shimmied sideways to the corner of the building, then dragged himself up to the roof, using the wider cornerstones for purchase. It was slow going, and his arms and shoulder burned, but after long minutes, Remarin rolled over onto the top of the building, three stories above the street.

He lay on his back, working to control his breathing as he looked up at the star-speckled sky. He noted the constellations above him, so different from the ones he grew up watching from his home in Torin, or even in Bravis, where he spent so many years before meeting the girl Kit and having his whole world turned topsy-turvy. The young princess had brought untold turmoil into his life, and now Remarin found himself halfway across the globe plotting with the young queen-in-exile to regain her throne. But those were tomorrow’s concerns. Tonight, he had a necklace to steal, and no matter how long he lay on the roof staring up at The Sorcerer and The Bull and Serpent watching him from the sky, it brought him no closer to his prize.

He rolled to a crouch, peering across the rooftops to ensure he was alone. Nothing worse than finding another thief trying to poach your score.

I can think of a few things worse, Trand remarked.

That’s because you are an eternal pessimist, Remarin thought back.

Oh, and here I thought it was because I was the one living out the prime example of something worse.

Remarin let that go. He had to, because his friend was right. He was trapped in a dagger because of a heist gone awry. Admittedly, there were some extenuating circumstances, and tonight’s adventure involved neither wizards nor sleeping with inappropriate people, but Trand’s point was still valid.

And irrelevant. Seeing no one stirring atop the string of connected buildings, Remarin began to move from chimney to chimney, creeping ever nearer the jeweler’s shop. He clung to the shadows, his dark, tight-fitting clothing making him little more than another shadow dancing across the rooftops as he flitted ever closer to his quarry. After several minutes of sneaking, he stood atop the jeweler’s roof, directly over his open bedroom window. He dropped to his stomach, stretching out flat on the roof and dangling his head over the edge.

There was no balcony to drop onto, not even so much as a window box with flowers or herbs for cooking. The shopkeeper was a cautious man, working to keep his shop as secure as possible while still maintaining some comfort in the summer night. Remarin took a deep breath, locked his fingers onto the lip of the roof, and at a pace that would make a snail impatient, slowly began to rotate himself around on the roof and slide down until he dangled from the rooftop by his fingers.

His feet swung in midair just a foot or so above the window ledge. He kicked out, straining his grip as his feet flew back, then clenched his fingers tighter as he swung forward. He sucked in a sharp breath, then kicked back once more, increasing his arc. This time, when his feet swung forward, they passed into the open window, and at the farthest point of his arc, Remarin let go of the roof and slipped soundlessly into the bedroom, dropping to the floor in front of the window in a silent, black-clad heap.

As he passed over the ledge, he felt his elbow clip something, and the instant he hit the floor he rolled onto his back, looking up to see a row of glass bottles lined up on the inside lip of the window ledge as an impromptu alarm system, designed to catch someone trying to break in with just this strategy. One bottle wobbled back, forth, back again, then tumbled toward the floor. Remarin lashed out with his left hand, swatted the glass cylinder back into the air, then clutched it in his hands. The entire episode took place without a sound, and Remarin let out his breath in a silent hiss.

He rolled to his feet, replacing the bottle on the windowsill, and took stock of his surroundings. The jeweler, a fat man with a thick walrus mustache, snored like a drunken water buffalo in his bed. Curled up beside him was a woman Remarin assumed was his wife, a slim woman in a nightgown with her face hidden beneath a pillow, presumably to keep out her husband’s sonorous snores.

Testing each board as he moved, Remarin slipped silently across the floor, stopping at the door to check it for other traps or alarms. There was nothing, the jeweler apparently deciding that barring every window and setting up his impromptu alarm on the bedroom sill was enough. Honestly, Remarin thought, it would have been enough to thwart most thieves. But he wasn’t most thieves.

No, you aren’t,