The Styx Boatman tavern was alive with its teeming, cosmopolitan clientele. A group of large, eight-legged sentient insects, their carapaces adorned with ornate metal plates, chittered continuously by the bar. They drank gelatinous globules of honey which they placed between their mandibles, sucking slowly, until the outer membrane became as loose and empty as a broken balloon. Luminescent wires and streamers hung from the low ceiling, casting a suitably impersonal light on the mixed and often sinister patrons. A barrel-chested dwarf, his beard split into a fork, stood bare-chested at the bar. His immense pectorals strained as he reached for mugs and glasses, pouring the requested drinks with expert aplomb.
Shesayne had chosen an unassuming corner of the bar, far from prying eyes and curious ears. A glass of sweet, amber wine sat half-empty on the bar beside her. Kadda was late. The chittering of the mantis-creatures was hypnotic, almost soporific. Shesayne took another sip of her wine and examined the crowd. Still no sign of Kadda.
“Shas!”
Shesayne almost jumped in her seat. Kadda had sneaked up behind. She whipped around. “Fuck! Y’know that’s not funny when we’re handling this kind of stuff.”
“Easy, easy,” Kadda reproached. She leapt onto the bar and sat in front of Shesayne, her feet leaning on the empty stool beside the half-elf.
Kadda refused to submit to indignity of having her legs dangling in the air. She was a halfling, little more than four feet tall, but graced with a wiry, agile build – the always tense, always nervous body of a rogue. Unlike dwarves, halflings were proportioned as humans. Yet they nurtured a certain disdain for those whom they dismissively called ‘the big folk’. Kadda occasionally gave the wrong impression. Her oval face, lightly pointed ears, button nose and charming features put many off-guard. Kadda, though, was a first-rate thief. Behind those soft, chocolate-brown eyes was the soul of an adventurer. As always, she wore dark, functional outfits: the tight, multi-pocketed jerkin and grey breeches of an opportunist. Her midnight-dark hair was cropped short and gathered tight against her scalp in neat, braided rows.
“So, how in the Nine Hells did you get in?” Shesayne hissed.
Kadda tapped her boots together and stretched out against the bar, pretending to think. “Snuck in ‘round back.” she said. Her tone was smug, as if her genius were evident for all to see. The light seemed to fuse with her pale skin. Her ancestors had come from a nomadic clan of river-folk from the northern reaches of a distant world. That no longer mattered. Kadda’s clan had been in Sigil for as long as any of its members could remember.
“Figures why I didn’t notice you, you’re below my field of vision,” Shesayne taunted.
Kadda burst out with mock laughter. “Hmm - taunting a halfling for her height, you are so fucking original. Ever consider doing stand-up?”
“No. Ever consider making an honest living? You always manage to look like you’re an assassin on the prowl.”
“You always look like you’re ready to hit Magpie Lane.” Kadda playfully tapped Shesayne’s bared midriff with the tip of her boot.
“You just watch out. Before you know it, you’ll be plump and pulling cider for your hairy, halfling husband.” The tendency for otherwise slender halflings to put on weight in middle age was infamous.
“Now why in the Abyss would I need a halfling husband when I have you?” Kadda said. She leaned over the bar and pressed her rosy lips against Shesayne’s mouth. Shesayne was in a playful mood – the kiss of greeting became open, wet and sensual. Kadda leaned in, her tongue absorbed in a lusty dance in Shesayne’s mouth.
Shesayne drew her thumb along the sensitive surface of Kadda’s pointed ear as she broke the kiss. Kadda drew a sigh of pleasure. Shesayne smirked and licked her lips. “Nah, half-elf and halfling would never, ever work.”
“Fucking spoil-sport. Two thieves, lots of jink, lots of drink, lots of Dreamsmoke, top-shelf daggers – couldn’t get much better than that.”
“Anyway, guess who sent me?” Shesayne said, changing the subject. Kadda always took her jokes about marrying Shesayne to unnerving lengths.
“Fen-YA!” Kadda chimed.
“Right, how’d you guess? Anyways, we’re interested in your next delivery, provided you’ve got it.”
“Cat’s in the bag,” Kadda said. Halfling expressions could be so quaint. “But Fen seems to think that I’ve got Fire Orchids growing out of my cunt, pardon the expression.”
“They’re all the rage, though, Fen’s willing to pay fifteen hundred each thal-weight, so if we re-sell at three thousand, which is feasible, we’d be making some really, truly serious jink.”
“I can shift two thal-weights, max. Civic Security doesn't usually check halfling barges, so I can sneak it under a shipment of dried apples at the Grand Canal.”
“All right, I’ll leave that up to you. As for re-sale, we’re in the shop-front together, right?”
“As usual, my sweet, as usual.” Kadda pounced into Shesayne’s lap, resting her head on the half-elf’s shoulder. “But why right now? I thought you quit our little enterprise when you got together with Astrid.”
“Jink’s jink and if the most honest living a half-elf can make is dressing like an idiot to get other barmy leatherheads to buy insurance, then I’ll go back to doing what I do best,” Shesayne said with defiance. A good sale would mean that Astrid could put off worrying about the rent for a long time.
Kadda reminded her of a more footloose, exciting past. Thieving and living in the shadows may have occasionally been dangerous, but it provided a swell of satisfaction which sitting at a reception desk could not even begin to equal. Kadda’s style had been hard and direct: thieving was about taking objects. Shesayne, however, took the confidence-trickster approach. There was very little most males and many females of any race wouldn’t do for a sweetly smiling, pretty little Elf.
Kadda helped herself to a sip of Shesayne’s wine. “I take it they’ve cooked up some new humiliation for you at the bank.”
Shesayne breathed a dramatic sigh. “Let’s just not mention or talk about it.”
“Ah, you’ll sort it out – with all the cutters we’ll be peeling, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“The venue is the private festhalls under the Celestial Ring, as usual. Faenya’ll let you in at the service entrance.”
“That’s all screed, you know I could do this blindfolded…and so could you, so much for making a sodding honest living.”
“You never know,” Shesayne said, the horrifying image of the DragonGirl costume springing back to mind, “I might just consider thinking ‘bout joining you back in the shadows.”
“That’s my girl.” Kadda leapt off Shesayne’s onto the adjacent bar stool and sat, cross legged, staring intently. She always sized up whomever she met, even if it was a friend. “How’s Astrid?”
“Fine, good, busy-busy all the time, but she still has time for me.”
“She still doesn’t like me, right?” Kadda said. It was a rhetorical question.
“Aw, c’mon Kadda, that’s not fair, you know she loathes and detests you.”
“Just ‘cause I’m a halfling, right?” Kadda joked.
“Exactly.”
“By the by, I heard that Astrid’s employing the Match-Girl.”
“Yeah, Fia – she’s smarter than both of us put together, I'd wager. But something tells me there's something not quite right and on balance with her. Y’see, remember that Cranium Rat infestation back at our place?”
“How could I forget – tricky sods, those.”
“Well, after a while, I gave up shooting them down with my hand crossbow – just too many of them. So, one day Fia goes up to the top of the stairs and sees a whole nest of the bastards feasting on some rubbish. She kneels down and blows on the palm of her hand…and whoosh! This stuff that looks like burning, fiery dust flies out into the air. At first it’s just a mist, then it becomes like a sandstorm. Only that the sand's fire – each grain's a flaming cinder. The firestorm surrounds the rats, like wrapping them in paper, and burns them. The survivors just run away, scampering like mad, but the fire-cloud follows them, all the way into their dens. Haven’t seen a rat since.”
“By Grandfather’s cock! I s’pose you’d call that the kiss of death.”
“Yeah, she’s sweet, calm and sort of demure, but don’t ever, ever, ever piss her off,” Shesayne warned.
“Don’t piss a fire genasi off, and that’s the end of it. Back when she was on the streets, some berk tried to peel her for all the jink she was worth.”
“I know where this is going…”
“Burned a circle five inches wide in his chest. Said he didn’t even see what hit him, the fire had already blinded him,” Kadda said knowingly. Sigil was a death-trap. Even the most unassuming encounter with a passer-by could turn out to be your last.
“Fuck. Civic Security never took a look-see?”
“What was he going to tell them, huh? I tried to rob a penniless half-breed girl sleeping rough and oh, by the way, arrest her for burning a hole in me in self-defence.”
“She’s got a temper, but Fia’s no liability.” Shesayne sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.
“Nah, don’t worry about her. Fire genasi are a protective lot: they either like you or they don’t: if they don’t you’re fucked, or more specifically, burned to a cinder, if they do, then you can pretty much sleep nice and safe at night.”
Shesayne looked relieved. “Astrid seems to have taken a shine to her.”
“If she’s clever, then she’s Astrid’s type. Everything all right between you two?” It was no secret that Kadda wanted the answer to be ‘no’.
“’Course.”
“Lemme guess, less intimacy since Fia arrived, hmm?” Kadda insinuated.
Shesayne paused. Kadda had a point. It had been twenty days, give or take, and she could count the times she and Astrid had made love on one hand. Part of the problem, of course, was that Tahllea was still lurking unpleasantly at the back of Shesayne’s mind. That was the unmentionable. The sneering face that peered out in the darkness. She and Astrid had even had a subtle, unspoken quarrel when Shesayne professed herself too tired one evening.
“I had a nasty run-in after my show,” Shesayne confessed, “I’d still like to take the time to sort myself out, y’know, it’s got nothing to do with Fia.”
“Makes sense, I s’pose,” Kadda backed off. She knew better than to emotionally corner Shesayne. “Look, tomorrow we’re just going to sit down, unwind and have a chat after your show, all right?”
“No Faenya?”
“No Faenya,” Kadda agreed.
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