pure and simple. (Well, maybe not so pure.)
And here, in the lively market that was the beating heart of Timas Khoreth, there was opportunity enough to set any thief up in comfort for a good long while.
The only question now, Gork decided as he actually rubbed his rough palms together, was where to begin. And the answer to that very dilemma struck him like a bolt from the clear blue. Actually, it
was
a bolt from the clear blue: A glint of sunlight stabbed directly into Gork’s beady little eyes. Although briefly blinded, the greedy creature was alert enough to rapidly assess the crystal that had sent the dazzling gleam from a merchant’s carrel across the way.
It hung, spinning lightly in the breeze, from the drawstring of the merchant’s coin purse. Pure quartz, just over an inch in length, it served no purpose other than sheer ostentatious display. It wasn’t worth all that much—probably less than the contents of the purse itself—but it was far easier to get hold of, and should pay for a few diverting afternoons.
Gork maneuvered across the intervening road, silent as a thought—not, really, that he needed to be. The deafening discord of the marketplace was such that Gork could have sneaked up on the distracted shopkeeper even if he’d been accompanied by a herd of elephants, a marching band, and a jogging ogre with a bunion.
The merchant in question—a rather rotund individual, with thinning brown hair and a white cloak of softest fur—was currently haggling (read: arguing) with a young, cocky member of the watch. The soldier, clearly unaccustomed to anyone standing up to his intimidation, was loudly berating the shopkeeper over the asking price of a silver goblet, while the merchant, hands waving wildly in the air, rebutted with constant (and wildly inconsistent) pleas on behalf of the starving children they both knew he didn’t have. It had long since degenerated beyond the point where either of them cared any longer about the goblet itself. This was a battle of will and wit between two men with far too much of the former and none of the latter, and was unlikely to conclude any time in the foreseeable future.
Gork breezed past them with naked blade outstretched. In a move so practiced it was all but invisible, he pocketed the crystal in one of the tiny pouches sewn onto his belt. And just that quickly, he was gone, carried away from the scene of the crime by the constant press of humanity long before the merchant could possibly discover he’d been victimized.
Humans, Gork chuckled silently to himself, would always be one of his favorite races. Big, clumsy, for the most part stupid—and, since Gork himself possessed little in the way of riches, always worth stealing from. A few rapid sidesteps carried him between two small buildings, out of the main thoroughfare and away from the largest concentration of shoving, unwashed bodies. Whistling a traditional kobold folk tune in a pitch no human could possibly hear, he began once more to scan the market, seeking his next acquisition.
His view was abruptly obscured as a large shadow fell across the mouth of the alleyway. Gork looked up—and up, and up some more—until his gaze met that of the black-garbed human standing before him.
There were enough dissimilarities in their features to make it clear that this was not the same soldier with whom the merchant had been bickering. Nevertheless, all humans looked enough alike to Gork that they might as well have been brothers.
“Is there something I can do for you, Officer?” the kobold asked politely. Or it sounded polite in his own ears, anyway. Humans never sensed anything but hostility in the gravelly tone of kobold voices.
“Oh, I think so,” the human told him, smiling arrogantly down from above, a bothersome demigod. “I think you can hand me the crystal.”
“What crystal?”
The soldier frowned. “Don’t play games with me, you little shit. I saw the whole thing. See, you only got the thing
And here, in the lively market that was the beating heart of Timas Khoreth, there was opportunity enough to set any thief up in comfort for a good long while.
The only question now, Gork decided as he actually rubbed his rough palms together, was where to begin. And the answer to that very dilemma struck him like a bolt from the clear blue. Actually, it
was
a bolt from the clear blue: A glint of sunlight stabbed directly into Gork’s beady little eyes. Although briefly blinded, the greedy creature was alert enough to rapidly assess the crystal that had sent the dazzling gleam from a merchant’s carrel across the way.
It hung, spinning lightly in the breeze, from the drawstring of the merchant’s coin purse. Pure quartz, just over an inch in length, it served no purpose other than sheer ostentatious display. It wasn’t worth all that much—probably less than the contents of the purse itself—but it was far easier to get hold of, and should pay for a few diverting afternoons.
Gork maneuvered across the intervening road, silent as a thought—not, really, that he needed to be. The deafening discord of the marketplace was such that Gork could have sneaked up on the distracted shopkeeper even if he’d been accompanied by a herd of elephants, a marching band, and a jogging ogre with a bunion.
The merchant in question—a rather rotund individual, with thinning brown hair and a white cloak of softest fur—was currently haggling (read: arguing) with a young, cocky member of the watch. The soldier, clearly unaccustomed to anyone standing up to his intimidation, was loudly berating the shopkeeper over the asking price of a silver goblet, while the merchant, hands waving wildly in the air, rebutted with constant (and wildly inconsistent) pleas on behalf of the starving children they both knew he didn’t have. It had long since degenerated beyond the point where either of them cared any longer about the goblet itself. This was a battle of will and wit between two men with far too much of the former and none of the latter, and was unlikely to conclude any time in the foreseeable future.
Gork breezed past them with naked blade outstretched. In a move so practiced it was all but invisible, he pocketed the crystal in one of the tiny pouches sewn onto his belt. And just that quickly, he was gone, carried away from the scene of the crime by the constant press of humanity long before the merchant could possibly discover he’d been victimized.
Humans, Gork chuckled silently to himself, would always be one of his favorite races. Big, clumsy, for the most part stupid—and, since Gork himself possessed little in the way of riches, always worth stealing from. A few rapid sidesteps carried him between two small buildings, out of the main thoroughfare and away from the largest concentration of shoving, unwashed bodies. Whistling a traditional kobold folk tune in a pitch no human could possibly hear, he began once more to scan the market, seeking his next acquisition.
His view was abruptly obscured as a large shadow fell across the mouth of the alleyway. Gork looked up—and up, and up some more—until his gaze met that of the black-garbed human standing before him.
There were enough dissimilarities in their features to make it clear that this was not the same soldier with whom the merchant had been bickering. Nevertheless, all humans looked enough alike to Gork that they might as well have been brothers.
“Is there something I can do for you, Officer?” the kobold asked politely. Or it sounded polite in his own ears, anyway. Humans never sensed anything but hostility in the gravelly tone of kobold voices.
“Oh, I think so,” the human told him, smiling arrogantly down from above, a bothersome demigod. “I think you can hand me the crystal.”
“What crystal?”
The soldier frowned. “Don’t play games with me, you little shit. I saw the whole thing. See, you only got the thing
Similar Books
