The Temple Thief

The glowering man was having none of it and stomped away to refill his drink. Another man, Armannaise from his wig, leaned back on his bench in thought.

"There are a few dealers you might look for," he replied. "What are you selling?"

"Bronze sculptures, pottery, some other odds and ends," Bromm lied, trying to recall what he had seen on the docks when they were last in Chyrosia.

"There's a dwarf who deals in bronze," a second man spoke up in a heavy Zahiri accent. "His shop is by the Cannon Foundry. Look for the sign of two picks over a fortress gate."

"Thank you, sirs." Bromm feigned to leave and then turned back. "Oh, my captain has a piece of ivory he wishes to sell. Might you know anyone who works in ivory?"

The men shrugged. "No one specific," the Armannaise man replied. The Zahiri man added, "It's not my area."

Bromm thanked them and left. He went down the block to the next tavern and peered in. Here seemed a rougher crowd. Creating for himself a thief persona, though in truth he was a thief now, albeit a new one, he went inside. He prowled among the tables, listening to the conversation as best he could. At the back, there was a small alcove occupied by a single table. Three men sat at the table, one hooded and cloaked and the others leaning close in conversation. Bromm suspected they were ultimately who he wanted to talk to, but knew enough about how thieves operated not to approach them directly. Instead, he went to a nearby table.

"Morning, lads," he said cheerfully. The men looked suspiciously at him, one man covering his drink with his hand.

"Who're you?" a dwarf demanded.

"Just a lad," he replied as he helped himself to a seat at their table. Someone had told him once that thieves liked confidence. "I came here from Stiletar looking to make my fortune in this city, but I've been in some bad luck lately," he indicated his lack of clothes, "and followed it up with some good luck. I've come into a few nice things recently, but the man who lost them is looking to get them back, know what I mean? I'm looking to exchange my nice things for a berth on the next ship out of port. And some clothes."

While most of the men pretended not to know what he was saying, the dwarf leaned in close.

"Listen, human, you've got a lot to learn about this life. But if you're looking to make some friends, get yourself to the table back there," he indicated the rear table where the hooded man sat. "And learn to talk quickly."

Bromm smiled and nodded. The dwarf made a hand signal to the rear table and one man nodded back. The signal given, Bromm approached.

The men without hoods made space for him to sit between them, facing their companion. Flanked by two men that Bromm now realized were much broader and taller than himself, he began to feel a little trepidation. Once he was seated, the men wedged themselves around him.

The hooded man looked up, and Bromm stifled a start when he saw his dull red skin and fangs.

"Greetings, lad," the visling said, his forked tongue flicking between his teeth. "You have come to discuss business?"

"I have," Bromm gulped. "I have come into a piece recently, an ivory statuette about so high," he tried to hold his hands out to indicate the height, but the men to either side were pinning his arms. "Well, it's about the length of your forearm," he said instead. "And I would like to find a buyer for it before I have to depart town."

"Hmm..." the visling purred. His eyes, silt-pupiled like those of a cat, narrowed in thought. "Ivory... There is a man who might be a buyer. Where did you find this item?"

Would Albrecht have put out word that he was looking for the statuette from the Temple of Nystra? I had better not admit it anyway.

"From an estate outside the city," Bromm lied, hoping that the man's criminal network did not extend so far.

"Indeed," the visling purred, though Bromm was unsure if he bought the lie. "Well, then. The man might be interested. If not, he can certainly find someone else for you. You know of our finder's fee?"

"I am afraid I have nothing with which to pay you until I can make the sale," he replied.

"You have no coin?" the visling hissed.

"I had to escape quickly," Bromm admitted. "I had planned to take more but the... guard dogs," He hoped that was a thing that rich men here owned.

"Indeed," the visling said again. "Well, I will have my finder's fee when the sale is made. If not, I will find you both. I am very good at finding things." Bromm nodded, trying to show that he was sufficiently intimidated. "The man's name is Albrecht," the visling continued and Bromm choked back his excitement. "He works out of his house," the visling went on. "Which is on the street leading south from the middle of Fish Market. Look for the house with a blue slate roof and it will be three doors down, on the opposite side of the street."

"Thank you, sirs. Good luck to you all. I will be back with your fee once the sale is made." With that, the men on either side slid away and Bromm was able to make his escape.

Bromm left the tavern and made his way towards Fish Market. He made his way down the indicated street, doing his best to keep behind other pedestrians so that he would not be spotted. He passed the blue roofed house and started counting doors. As he passed in front of the house he believed to be Albrecht's, a carriage drove by, obscuring his view. But for a moment, he thought he saw Albrecht in the window.

Now confident, he reached the end of the street and waited. An hour later, now starting to grow hungry, he walked back along the street. This time, there was no movement in the house. Bromm returned to Fish Market and walked among the stalls. The day's catch was coming in and the smell of fresh fish made him even hungrier. But with no money left, he would have to steal or starve.

While waiting for night to fall, he occupied the rest of his day in search of food. He stole a pair of apples from a stall in The Market, which did much to sate his hunger. Yet he still found his stomach growling as night fell and he returned to Albrecht's house.

Putting aside his hunger, he made plans for how to get in. The house was built of stone and timber, affording him many good climbing holds. He circled the block, looking for a rear alley. Instead, he found that the house backed onto a garden. Bromm waited until there was no one else nearby, then scaled the tall fence of stone and wrought iron. He was in a modest garden, among the fruit trees and garden plants. A single candle burned in the lower floor of the house.

Avoiding the lit room, Bromm crept to the wall and climbed his way up to the roof of the first floor. From there, he pried open a second-floor window and slipped inside. He was inside a simply appointed bedroom, likely that of the page he had met at the tavern. The door to the hall was open.

Slowly, he crept into the hall. The first door was a privy, then the door to what he assumed what Albrecht's bedroom. Finally, he came to what looked at first glance to be a library. Racks of scrolls and books lined the walls and formed a barrier to the interior of the room. Picking his way past them carefully, Bromm realized that the racks contained records and ledgers of sales. In the middle of the room, a long table was covered in all manner of valuable objects.

Two twisted torcs lay on the table beside a heavy bronze bracelet. A pair of pearl earrings were nestled inside the bracelet. There was a jade statue of a tiger as long as his forearm and a trio of onyx carvings of peacocks. A crystal drinking bowl was lined at the bottom with a layer of pearls, white, black, and pink. On the back wall was another narrow counter that contained a strongbox. In front of the box were four small amethysts, cut in such a way that they caught the moonlight coming through the windows and cast reflections all along the wall.

Hanging on the wall was an ornate saber and its ivory scabbard. The sword's hilt was ivory and its blade polished steel, engraved with writing in a script that Bromm was unfamiliar with. Two small rubies adorned the hilt, and its edges were gilded.

Beneath the hanging sword was the idol, just as Bromm had presented to Albrecht. He took it in his hands and turned it over again. It was just as magnificent as when he had first taken it. Having done the work of stealing it--- twice--- he was of a strong mind to keep it himself. But the goddess' curse was wearing at him already.

Behind him, he heard a noise and whirled. Albrecht stood in the doorway, a broad-bladed knife in his hand.

"I should have expected to see you again," he said.

"I am taking the statue back," Bromm declared, "The goddess has cursed me, and I must make amends."

"Damn your curse," Albrecht replied flippantly, "I have promised that statue to a buyer for a significant amount of money. It stays with me."

"You don't understand," Bromm pleaded, "The goddess has cursed me to feel nothing. I won at gambling, nothing. I lost at gambling, nothing. I bought a whore at the Lotus and she couldn't make me hard, I---"

Albrecht laughed. "I don't care. Your curse is of no concern to me. Crawl off into the gutter and die or I will kill you here myself, thief."

Bromm's face darkened. Albrecht took a menacing step forward, the knife at ready.

"Very well," Bromm replied, "We could have had a good partnership."

"I have other thieves," Albrecht replied. "You are no great loss."

Bromm snatched the saber from the wall and pointed it at Albrecht. A look of dismay crossed his face briefly, but he kept the knife raised. They circled the long table with their weapons held high, Bromm with the idol in one hand and the saber in the other.

Albrecht reached below the table suddenly and drew out a pistol. Aiming it at Bromm, he commanded him to drop the idol. Bromm's pulse quickened, but he tightened his grip. Why would he demand I drop it if he could shoot me? He asked himself. He has made it clear he cares nothing for me. That's a fine pistol, surely it is an item for sale and not a hidden weapon.

"Shoot me," he dared the man. "If you can."

Albrecht scowled, his bluff called, then he hurled the pistol at Bromm and rushed him with the knife. Bromm barely ducked the weapon in time, but then caught the full force of Albrecht's charge. Startled, Bromm allowed Albrecht to get in under his guard. He dropped the idol to catch Albrecht's knife hand and they crashed into a rack of scrolls, sending dozens of scrolls sliding to the floor on the other side. Mercifully, the idol fell only a short distance to the table and stayed put.

He and Albrecht wrestled for control, he trying to bring his saber down while Albrecht tried to thrust the knife through his ribs. Bromm slammed the hilt of the saber down onto Albrecht's head twice, but the enraged man refused to drop his knife. Bromm yelped in pain as Albrecht stamped on his bare feet, and the saber tumbled from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Bromm turned both hands to the struggle for the knife and gained the upper hand.

He shoved Albrecht back, and the other man bowled into the long table, knocking over the peacock statues. Bromm seized him by the throat and raised the knife high for a killing stroke. Yet, despite the hate and fury on Albrecht's face, he could not follow through. Albrecht, for his part, seized the jade tiger statue and swung it into Bromm's head.

Stars exploded across his vision and Bromm staggered back against the outer wall. Albrecht came on, swinging the statue and Bromm tried to block the attack. He caught it on his forearm, and the pain was such that he feared it was broken. Albrecht's momentum carried them both into the wall and the crashed against the window, bursting its latch. Bromm clutched the knife in his uninjured hand and drove it up into Albrecht's chest. The man cried out in pain doubled over the knife, which he clutched in his grip. Bromm tried to wrestle it free, and they both fell to the floor.

Albrecht still clutched the knife with which he had intended to kill Bromm, but the light was fading from his fast. Bromm lay atop him, stunned, as he watched the life go out of him. Blood pooled on the floor beneath them. Bromm's hand, braced against the floor, was wet and sticky.

He had killed a man. He owed a visit to the Temple of Kanaron. But first, he had to get out of here and make amends with Nystra. And the visling would no doubt be looking for him soon enough as well.

Bromm scrambled to his feet. Looking at Albrecht's corpse sickened him. His heart still pounding, he grabbed the stolen idol, checked it for damage and found none. Sighing with relief, he stuffed it into a leather pack left by the door. He thought to flee but looking at the collection of Albrecht's other things changed his mind. He took the scabbard down from the wall and tied it onto a belt he stole from Albrecht's closet, along with a fine shirt of dark blue and a green jacket trimmed in white. His feet still smarting from their stomping, he pilfered a pair of black leather boots with brass buckles to shield them from further harm.

The amethysts, torcs, and earrings he swept into the pack, then filled the bottom of the pack with the pearls from the bowl. He took the onyx peacocks as well. Rifling through Albrecht's pockets, he found a key to the strongbox and emptied it, pouring several hundreds of gold and silver coins into his pack. Finally, he took a feather plumed hat for himself and made his way into the garden and over the fence again.

He stole across the city, stopping only at The Market to buy himself something to eat, for he was famished. Then, he made his way down towards the harbor and the Temple of Nystra. As darkness fell, he scrambled up the side of an inn and into the perch from which he had leapt across to the Temple before. He stowed his coins, sword, hat, and jacket on the roof in a safe place, unwilling to risk damaging them in his climb. With his pack of stolen baubles over his shoulder, Bromm settled in to wait until the foot traffic died down. In the meantime, he observed the passing of people in the street.

He caught himself dozing off twice and repositioned himself to better keep himself awake. In time, the street was empty enough for him to make his leap and then the climb. It passed as easily as his first attempt to enter, and soon he was back in the temple courtyard. Everything looked as it had been, except for the missing statuette. Bromm crept across the courtyard to the table that had held it, and gently put the statue back. He arranged the amethysts, torcs, earrings, peacocks, and pearls stolen from Albrecht's house on Nystra's altar and knelt before it in prayer.

"Goddess, I have been a fool," he whispered, eyes downcast and hands upturned, "I humbly beg your forgiveness and give these offerings to you as a token of my repentance." There was no sound in the temple except for the intermittent dripping of water from the rain pipe. Bromm raised his head, wondering if his prayers had been answered.

With nothing else to do, he rose from his prayer position and climbed the drainpipe back to the roof. Pulling himself over the edge of the wall, he froze. Someone was standing above him and in his haste to be gone, he had blundered right into them. He heard them shift in the dark and knew he had been noticed. He though to run across the roof and leap into the street, but knew that if he survived the fall, he would be crippled. Instead, he though to talk his way out.

Underneath the lounging couches on the roof, he could see a pair of feet in women's shoes approaching. He raised his head to look into her eyes and his breath caught.

The woman was tall and slender, an ivory-skinned, copper-haired goddess with eyes of sapphire. Glittering diamond earrings hung to either side of her beautiful face and she was clothed in a long gown of green silk, clasped at the waist with a golden girdle.

"Why hello," she said, her voice like silver bells, "my prayers have been answered."

"Your prayers?" Bromm asked in confusion, still half hanging over the edge.

"My prayers indeed," she answered in a mild western accent, "I was lying here, staring at the stars, and I felt the need for a man. The Lady of Delights has provided for me. What is your name?"

"I am Bromm," Bromm said from his embarrassingly compromised position.

"Welcome, Bromm. I am Daphne. Let me help you up." She extended a white arm and pulled him up onto the roof. "Why are you climbing out of the temple, Bromm?"

Bromm stammered a moment before he found his tongue. Her blue eyes gazed at him expectantly.

"I was making amends with the goddess, but I feared to face her clergy."

"I am one of her priestesses, do you fear to face me?" Daphne asked quietly.

"I do not. I find you quite pleasant to face, Daphne," he replied. She reached out and touched his face. He withdrew from her hand briefly, but her touch set him tingling with excitement. He felt something in him that he had feared he would never feel again.

"You seem frightened," she said.

"Not frightened," Bromm corrected, "excited to be back in Her graces."

"And in my good graces," the priestess replied. "And I must be in the Goddess' good graces to find a handsome man wandering the temple at this hour." She pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply. Bromm exulted in the warmth of her flesh, wrapping his arms about her shoulders as he kissed back. After a long moment, she pulled away. He could see the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

"Will you lay with me here tonight, Bromm?" she asked and Bromm could hardly contain his excitement.

"Gladly, Daphne. It is as if the Goddess wishes it."

She slid her silk gown from her shoulders to bare her breasts. They were small and white, but Bromm adored them all the same. Standing up, she slid her gown down to the floor, leaving her clad in only a white wrap about her hips. The rest of her body was bare, and Bromm could see that it was slender and tight. Her fair skin was unblemished by work, injury, or sun, and her long legs were accentuated by her heeled shoes.

"Now it's your turn," she said, pulling at his belt. Bromm quickly dropped his stolen trousers to the floor and his cock flopped out--hard. My cock is hard again! He exulted, trying to hide his surprise from Daphne. She took no notice and instead went to her knees and grasped the cock in her hands as Bromm shed his shirt.

The priestess took him in her mouth and began to pleasure him so expertly that he feared he would lose himself prematurely, as he had with Tarilla. But she was prepared for that and moderated her stroking so that he could control himself. He wound his hands through her copper hair and groaned in pleasure.

"You are so good at that," he breathed, and she laughed around the cock in her mouth. Drawing it out, she said as she picked at a trail of spittle "We train to give pleasure in all ways. This one just happens to be my favorite."

"Praise the Goddess," Bromm gasped as she ran her tongue down the side of the shaft.

Daphne stood up and slipped out of her shoes. Bromm lay down on one of the couches, cock in hand. She slipped off her waist wrap, exposing her shaven sex. The excitement overcoming him, Bromm stroked his cock faster. Daphne knelt with one knee on his couch and took his cock in her hand.

"Come with me," she said, "I have a private chamber below."

"Down below?" Bromm protested, "not underneath the stars?"

"The Goddess can see us there, too," she promised, "I think you'll like my chamber."

Bromm relented, rising naked from the couch as Daphne gathered up their clothes. He kept one hand on his cock, stroking himself to stay hard. He had missed the sensation during his brief time under Nystra's curse and, now that he had it back, was loathe to let it go again.