《The Prince of Cats》 1. The House of Colour The House of Colour It took several skills to be a good thief. Dextrous fingers to pick pockets and locks. Light footfall to sneak about. Good eyes to keep sharp observations of the surroundings. Cunning wit to know where to ply your trade. But the most important thing was luck. Jawad was convinced that while he possessed the former skills in abundance, it was purely a case of ill luck that saw him currently incarcerated in the Finger. He had done everything right. In disguise, he watched the jeweller¡¯s workshop for days, waiting until a moonless night. In the blink of an eye, his fingers picked the lock on the front door without arousing attention. Moving with quiet, feline grace, he passed by the small chamber where the apprentice was fast asleep. Foregoing the splinters of gemstones and petty valuables in the workshop itself, Jawad went up the stairs to seek the real treasure. The thief had it on good authority that no less than three emeralds, one ruby, and two sapphires were waiting in a strongbox upstairs. Unfortunately, a vicious dog also waited for him in the jeweller¡¯s inner sanctum, kept chained and apparently starved to enflame its temper. As if Fortune were playing a cruel trick on Jawad, the dog¡¯s fur was stark black. He had not noticed anything until a pair of yellow eyes opened, followed by slobbering jaws. The dog¡¯s barking, not to mention its fangs, sent Jawad backwards and tumbling down the flight of stairs. This caused the apprentice to run out wielding a broomstick, and the thief had to beat a hasty retreat straight into the arms of the city guard. Even those bumbling fools were able to comprehend the situation and react before Jawad could leg it. Thus his present, involuntary stay at the Finger. Among decent folk, it was called the Tower of Justice. Among the indecent, it was named after what it resembled, a giant middle finger sticking out of the ground. His thoughts circling back to his imprisonment, Jawad repeated this belief to himself. Fate had placed him here, and he was otherwise blameless. If anyone asked, that was his story. Settling into the meagre straw strewn across his cell floor, the thief let this comfort him. Fortune had gotten him here, and she was sure to get him out of it again. In return, he would be suitably grateful and leave an offering at her altar. Not just any altar, but the one with the voluptuous statue of her wearing a green, flowing dress and a garland of silver flowers in her hair. Jawad¡¯s reveries concerning the goddess were interrupted as the door to his austere accommodations opened. A guard with a face suggesting bestial ancestry stepped inside, aiming a lazy kick at the prisoner¡¯s leg. ¡°On your feet, scum.¡± ¡°That seemed unnecessary,¡± Jawad complained even as he complied. Behind the guard, someone else appeared in sight. The thief wondered if Fortune had finally sent her messenger, although this auspicious character looked nothing like the statue of Jawad¡¯s fantasies. Probably for the best, the newcomer did not wear a flowing dress or a flower garland; neither would have gone well with his muscular frame. Jawad¡¯s eyes ran across the man, noting the short sword by his side and the reinforced leather with a linen tunic underneath. The hilt of the weapon was lain with gold, making it worth at least twenty pieces of silver to an honourable fence. Jawad smiled at the contradiction. ¡°You having a laugh?¡± asked the guard, cuffing Jawad on the head. His demeanour did not imply he wanted an answer. ¡°Glad you¡¯re enjoying our hospitality. You¡¯ll be leaving behind a hand as thanks, after all.¡± He grabbed his own groin. ¡°Guess what use we put it to.¡± Jawad pulled back in a futile attempt to create distance between himself and his captor in the cramped space. ¡°Let it never be said I am prone to sentimental attachment to anything once lost,¡± the thief claimed. ¡°Shut your fuckhole,¡± the guard spat. ¡°You¡¯ve been ratting on that you know about the Prince of Cats. Get to talking.¡± ¡°Shut up, start talking. Consistency would be nice,¡± Jawad mumbled. The warden grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, revealing to Jawad that garlic was being served in the guardroom. ¡°If you don¡¯t put that tongue to use, I¡¯ll be taking it with me! Guess what we¡¯ll do with it!¡± ¡°No need to further illustrate your point,¡± Jawad replied meekly, suppressing a tired groan at the repetitive threat. It showed lack of imagination. Instead, he glanced over the guard¡¯s shoulder at the imposing warrior standing by the doorway. ¡°But if I am to cooperate in this manner, I hope it will be remembered.¡± The guard slapped him across the face. ¡°Point taken,¡± he gulped. ¡°It is said that the Prince of Cats seeks to ruin al-Badawi and has chosen the merchant¡¯s warehouse for his next jaunt.¡± For the first time, the warrior by the cell door spoke. ¡°Al-Badawi has many warehouses.¡± ¡°The Prince is still waiting to determine his mark,¡± Jawad replied. ¡°Rumour has it that a shipment should be arriving from Gadir with valuable anil dye. He needs only follow the cargo from the ship to the warehouse to find his target and strike when the time suits him.¡± The guard turned to look at the visitor beyond the door. ¡°Good enough?¡± A slight nod came in response. ¡°It¡¯ll do.¡± The warden relaxed his hold on Jawad¡¯s tattered shirt. ¡°If you¡¯re lucky, maybe we¡¯ll only take a few fingers instead of your hand.¡± He grinned, releasing the thief, who sank to the floor. Jawad rubbed the skin on his throat, watching the door close behind the other men. Once alone, he relaxed and leaned his head against the wall with a satisfied expression. ~~~~ Jawad spent the next two days with only rats for company. As they possessed poor conversation skills, he passed the time talking to himself and inspecting the slender fingers on his right hand. The penalty for thievery, if the crime was deemed severe enough, was loss of limb. As justice worked swiftly in Alc¨¢zar, Jawad could expect this fate in less than a week. On the third day, Jawad¡¯s visitor returned along with the guard. He quickly got on his feet. ¡°Looks like even stray dogs can be trained,¡± the guard laughed. Ignoring him, the thief looked at the muscular warrior. ¡°I see you¡¯ve taken a liking to me.¡± ¡°What more can you tell me about the Prince of Cats?¡± ¡°Sadly, my ability to find information has been subdued of late.¡± Jawad glanced at the guard, who was mostly preoccupied with scratching his privates. ¡°I can¡¯t very well find out while I¡¯m locked up with only this charming sentinel for company.¡± ¡°My master expected as much. He has a task for you. In return, he has secured your release,¡± the warrior explained. ¡°Should you attempt to weasel away, I am to cut you into pieces. Slowly.¡± His hand casually rested on the sword hilt by his side. Jawad gave a subservient smile. ¡°I would expect nothing less, good master.¡± He raised his chained hands towards the guards and let them jangle. ¡°If you would be so kind?¡± With a disgruntled look, the guard did as requested. ¡°You¡¯ll be back here within a week.¡± The warrior stepped forward to tie rope around Jawad¡¯s wrists and twist it around the thief¡¯s neck a few times, letting him use one end as a leash. With an impatient tug, he led the bound thief out of the cell. ¡°In the meantime,¡± Jawad called out, looking over his shoulder at the warden, ¡°I will give your regards to your mother, your sisters, your grandmothers, your aunts, your cousins, your second cousins ¨C¡± A violent jerk of the rope cut Jawad¡¯s stream of words short. ~~~~ Leaving the Finger, the warrior and the thief stepped onto the streets of Alc¨¢zar. In front of them was the maswar, the open square that lay as the heart of the city, connecting roads in every direction. Once a week, a scaffold would be raised, letting the crowds watch criminals receive their just due. Today, the square only held the usual throng of people crossing in every direction. Clasping his still attached hands, Jawad followed his new captor.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°What might be your name, good master?¡± ¡°Salah.¡± ¡°A fitting name for a devoted servant,¡± Jawad remarked. His companion¡¯s only response was to pull at the rope, forcing the captive to walk faster and talk less. ¡°Your master ¨C¡± the thief managed to utter. ¡°Does not employ you ¨C¡± Another pull of the rope. ¡°For your conversation, I take it.¡± Salah stopped abruptly, turning to stare down at Jawad. ¡°He employs me for my tendency to violence.¡± ¡°Duly noted. Well, are we to prattle all day, or should we continue?¡± The thief made an impatient gesture towards the street ahead of them. ¡°Your master must be waiting.¡± A sneer ran across Salah¡¯s face. With a forceful grip on the rope, he resumed their march. ~~~~ After a few hours of walking, the pair reached the quarters reserved for wealthier merchants. The narrow streets grew wider, and the tall, closely built houses were replaced by wide palaces with gardens and walls to surround them. Stopping outside one such estate, Salah knocked on the gate. ¡°Of course, by then I was long gone,¡± Jawad related, deep in the telling of a tale. ¡°But not without every ring on her fingers.¡± His companion¡¯s only response was to roll his eyes. A spyhole opened, revealing a wrinkled face peering out between the bars; a moment after, the door in the gate was opened. ¡°Much obliged,¡± Jawad said with a smile to the gatekeeper, an old man who merely grunted in reply. Nothing about his appearance indicated any wealth to speak of, and while his collar hid his neck, Jawad imagined he was a slave. Salah led him along the path to the buildings in the centre of the enclosure; on either side, they were surrounded by gardens, lush in the prime of spring. Above the main entrance, a few lines from a famous poem by al-Tayir were carved into the stone arch. Stallions run in war as fast as they are able, yet behold their pace grow quicker near the stable. Smiling to himself, Jawad followed his guide inside. All the times he had wanted to get inside D¨¡r al-Allawn, and now he was being walked through the front door. ¡°Tell the steward I¡¯ve returned,¡± Salah commanded a servant. As they waited, Jawad glanced around the sal¨¡mlik of the estate. As could be expected, the entrance hall was pompous with pillars of marble. The floor was made from the same material, except through the middle where an unbroken line of glass ran; underneath, a stream of water flowed. The pillars were arranged to flank the water, thereby protecting the glass and naturally leading people to walk around it. Along the walls were numerous niches, all of which contained exquisitely carved statues. Jawad made a note of how well they would serve as hiding spots for anyone sneaking around. The steward of the household arrived, casting one look at Jawad. ¡°For gods¡¯ sake, Salah,¡± he exclaimed. He wore a thin silver thread tightly around his neck, showing his status as a valued slave. His attire was made from cotton, not linen, looking soft and worth fifteen silver or more. ¡°He cannot be presented to the master like this. Have him bathed and put in clothes that are not infested with fleas!¡± ¡°Summon one of the mamluks,¡± Salah demanded. ¡°I was only to bring him home. I¡¯m not his foot slave.¡± ¡°They are occupied,¡± the steward sniffed. ¡°There is none to do it but you.¡± ¡°Hakar¡¯s shit,¡± Salah cursed, earning him a scandalised look from the steward. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll continue watching him like a damned wet-nurse,¡± he added, pushing the thief in the back to make him move. To Jawad¡¯s chagrin, his brutish captor did not lead him to the luxurious baths that were certain to exist in a palace of this size. Instead, the inevitable pull of the rope took him to the slave quarters. At last, Jawad¡¯s bindings were removed; not only that, he was made to strip entirely. Cold water was poured into a tub by a slave, Jawad was given cloth and coarse soap, and Salah gruffly told him to get in. His rags were taken away and burned. Shivering slightly in the water, Jawad stared up at Salah, who was attempting to keep the thief within line of sight without actually looking at his naked form. ¡°Does your master make you bathe under these conditions as well, Salah? You would hardly fit in here,¡± Jawad mused. The image of the big warrior trying to squeeze into the tub brought a smile to his face. ¡°I am no slave,¡± Salah scoffed. ¡°When I wish, I use the hamm¨¡m in the palace.¡± ¡°I am not either, yet here we are.¡± ¡°You¡¯re less than a slave,¡± Salah sneered. ¡°You¡¯re a thief.¡± He pronounced the word with the utmost disdain. ¡°Where do you belong in this hierarchy? Given your task is to watch me, a lowly thief, take my bath,¡± Jawad said serenely, scrubbing his arms. Various expressions crossed Salah¡¯s face before it finally settled on a grin. ¡°With a mouth like that, mongrel, you¡¯ll not take ten steps before you get into trouble that tongue of yours can¡¯t save you from. If the gods are kind, I¡¯ll not only be watching, I¡¯ll be participating.¡± He flexed his fingers into fists. Jawad looked up at him, extending a hand. ¡°Towel?¡± ¡°Fuck you.¡± ~~~~ An hour after his arrival, Jawad was presentable. Salah, his constant companion, led him from the slave quarters through a labyrinth of corridors at such a pace, it took considerable effort for Jawad to build a map of the building in his mind. They moved constantly inwards until they reached a section of the palace sequestered from the remainder. This had to be the har¨¡mlik, where only the family and the most trusted servants could enter. While the other parts of the great house had been mostly empty, several mamluks guarded this place, eyeing Jawad with contempt as he progressed. Abruptly, Salah stopped in front of a large door. ¡°Speak when spoken to,¡± he impressed upon Jawad. ¡°I am civility and servility itself.¡± ¡°And I shit gold,¡± Salah muttered, pushing the door open. Involuntarily, Jawad swallowed the remark on his tongue. Before his sight, a wonder made incarnate in stone appeared. He gazed upon a courtyard that was partly covered by a roof, allowing streams of light to illuminate the tiled floor. Water fell and flowed along the walls, creating the soft sound of trickling brooks. Countless pillars of slender shape rose up across the hall; they cast long shadows across the space, giving the impression of a forest made from marble. The tender touch of sunlight caressed his skin as he stepped forward while the shade of the artificial trees kept him cool. He was, at one and the same time, standing in nature¡¯s beauty while surrounded by the unrivalled artistry of men. Following after Salah, Jawad took note of the various corners and niches that might conceal a man seeking to move around unnoticed, and where to step to avoid the water that flowed along the edges of the room. ¡°This is the thief, effendim,¡± Salah spoke. Jawad turned his eyes on what resembled a forest clearing ahead of him. Inside a pavilion, attended by two slaves, sat the merchant al-Badawi. He was dressed in silk and cotton; each item of clothing would fetch at least fifty silver and possibly up to twice that on the market. A necklace of gold hung around his neck with a few gemstones as ornaments, giving it a value of around two hundred and twenty pieces of silver. As he stroked his thin beard, he revealed several rings on his left hand, each worth around seventy or eighty coins. Jawad glanced at the merchant¡¯s right hand, upon which sat a single ring made from silver; it marked al-Badawi as counted among the Hundred Houses of Alc¨¢zar, and its value could not be ascertained in coin. ¡°Approach,¡± al-Badawi commanded with a nasal voice. One slave was fanning him, keeping the noon heat at bay, while the other held a tray of edible delights. Jawad stood still, staring at the merchant while lost in thought; only Salah¡¯s push made the young thief move forward. ¡°Effendi,¡± he greeted al-Badawi hoarsely along with a bow. The merchant sent the thief a scrutinising glance. ¡°Do you know why I have summoned you?¡± ¡°To help you, effendi.¡± ¡°Yes. That wretched villain, whose name is too ridiculous to speak, seeks to steal from me.¡± Still stroking his beard, al-Badawi began talking as much to himself as to anyone present. ¡°Me! The head of D¨¡r al-Allawn, pre-eminent among the Hundred Houses, richest among my peers, supplier to the Kabir¡¯s court!¡± Salah cleared his throat, making al-Badawi¡¯s attention return to his company. ¡°You, although a lowly criminal, will play a part in bringing this cur to justice.¡± ¡°I am happy to serve, effendi,¡± Jawad claimed with a straight face. ¡°Of course you are,¡± al-Badawi said. ¡°Were it not for me, you would be a hand shorter.¡± ¡°Speaking of that, effendim,¡± Salah interjected, ¡°he bears the brand on his arm. He is not a citizen, but alhajin.¡± Several pairs of eyes moved to Jawad¡¯s right wrist with a crude cross seared into the skin. ¡°No matter.¡± Al-Badawi waved his hand dismissively. ¡°He will not be out on the streets at night.¡± Salah looked doubtful but made no reply, and the merchant spoke again. ¡°What is your name, thief?¡± ¡°Jawad, effendi.¡± ¡°How did you know my warehouse would be raided by this, this Prince?¡± The epithet was spoken with extreme reluctance. ¡°Men only keep secrets if they are buried with them,¡± Jawad quoted. Seeing the merchant scowl, he quickly continued. ¡°He is not working alone, effendi. It takes a whole crew to subdue the guards and cart the goods away, not to mention he must sell the stolen wares if he wants coin for his trouble.¡± ¡°So these brigands that do his bidding, they are open-mouthed?¡± ¡°Exactly, effendi.¡± Al-Badawi toyed with his necklace; the chain jingled against the metal of his rings. ¡°I want you to do this again, but in greater detail. Find out his plans that we may lay a trap and catch this bastard. I want the birds pecking at his corpse on the maswar.¡± Jawad gave a bow, his face placid. ¡°As you wish, effendi.¡± ¡°Salah will accompany you,¡± al-Badawi added almost as an afterthought, placing a small cake inside his mouth and chewing loudly. ¡°He will ensure you do not stray from your task.¡± Crumbs spilled onto his clothes. ¡°With all due respect, obtaining this information will require an ability to blend in.¡± Jawad glanced at the big warrior by his side. ¡°Where I need to go, Salah will be as inconspicuous as a belly dancer in an orphanage.¡± Salah growled like an angry dog. ¡°Do you wish to return to the Tower of Justice?¡± al-Badawi asked sharply. ¡°No, effendi.¡± ¡°Then do as you are told and be gone. Do not return until your task is complete, but do not test my patience either. I plucked you from retribution¡¯s grasp, and I can send you back with but a snap of my fingers,¡± the merchant threatened. Jawad bowed deeply, hiding his sardonic smile. ¡°Understood, effendi.¡± 2. Teacher, Teeth, and Tribute Teacher, Teeth, and Tribute Shortly after his audience with al-Badawi, Jawad found himself on the streets of Alc¨¢zar again; as before, Salah was his shadow. Looking at the warrior towering over him, Jawad let out a small sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°Where to?¡± asked Salah as they set into motion, moving southeast. ¡°The small market.¡± ¡°What will we do there?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll do nothing,¡± Jawad snorted. ¡°Other than be in my way.¡± ¡°You have high thoughts of yourself for someone who was in prison just hours ago.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll make this clear to you,¡± Jawad declared as he wove in and out of the crowd on the street; behind him, Salah moved forward by splitting the throng through sheer size. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can contribute here. Just let me do my work.¡± Salah reached out to grab Jawad by the shoulder in an iron grip, and he turned the thief around. ¡°Let me make this clear to you,¡± he growled into Jawad¡¯s face. ¡°I do not trust you in the least. I think this is a terrible idea and that you will betray us at first chance. The moment I even suspect this, you¡¯ll find my blade cutting every sinew in your body and leaving you to bleed out on the street.¡± Jawad stared up at the warrior. ¡°Great!¡± He lit up in a smile. ¡°I dare say we understand each other. I have a good feeling about this.¡± With opposite emotions expressed on their faces, they continued. ~~~~ The small market was not named due to its size, as it contained hundreds of stalls and took up a larger area than the great market did; instead, the name came from what was bartered. While its counterpart dealt with livestock, above all slaves, and raw goods for other merchants or craftsmen to purchase, the small market supplied Alc¨¢zar with food of every kind, household sundries, clothing, and the like. ¡°So what are we doing here?¡± Salah asked in his brusque fashion, using his menacing look to keep the hawkers from approaching him. ¡°We need some food. All part of the plan,¡± Jawad told him, steering through the crowd. The marketplace was packed, mostly by women, servants, and children. ¡°And the plan is?¡± ¡°Patience, good Salah, patience,¡± the thief told him, placing a reassuring hand on Salah¡¯s arm. The warrior looked down, wrestling his arm free of Jawad¡¯s grasp without noticing what Jawad¡¯s other hand was doing. Haggling, Jawad quickly procured various pieces of fruit and a large wheel of goat cheese; he deposited it all in Salah¡¯s left arm except for some figs that he ate with delight. Watching Jawad hand over some silver coins to the vendor, Salah frowned in sudden suspicion. ¡°Where did you get money from?¡± Jawad threw a coin purse into Salah¡¯s empty hand. ¡°Your generosity is appreciated.¡± ¡°You stole from me?¡± he roared. ¡°All sales are final,¡± the vendor squeaked, pulling his wares away. Salah¡¯s fist clenched around the deflated purse, prompting Jawad to take a step backwards. ¡°It felt uncouth to ask your master for money, but really, am I expected to complete this task without spending even a measly copper coin?¡± He continued his retreat as Salah strode forward. ¡°I¡¯ll rip your bowels out and sell them as goat feed,¡± Salah yelled, preparing his fist for a punch, ¡°and you¡¯ll have your coin then!¡± Despite Salah¡¯s quick movement and the fact that Jawad was walking backwards, the thief had no trouble keeping distance between them in the crowd. ¡°That¡¯s hardly advisable,¡± he replied. ¡°Feeding goats with guts? It¡¯s bound to spoil the milk!¡± Unable to catch the nimble thief, Salah stopped to look down at the cheese wheel he was still holding. He looked back at Jawad. ¡°You¡¯re a curse shat out by Haktar,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Salah, Salah,¡± his companion spoke soothingly, ¡°it¡¯s all for the mission. Just come with me, and you¡¯ll see soon enough.¡± ¡°I¡¯m keeping count,¡± Salah promised with a threatening voice. ¡°Every trick you pull, every ploy, I will remember it all. When this is done, I¡¯ll pay you back.¡± ¡°You strike me as a man of your word. I am sure you will.¡± Jawad gave a cautious smile. ¡°Now, can we proceed?¡± Salah let out a deep breath. ¡°Lead the way, you miserable mongrel. The sooner this is done, the better.¡± Jawad did as told, making sure to stay outside of Salah¡¯s reach. ~~~~ Leaving the small market, their path took them deeper into the city, southwards where the poorest neighbourhoods lay. Reaching one of the medinas that lay close to the southern walls, Jawad crossed an open square to enter its madrasa. Nothing from the outside indicated that it was a place of learning, not even a small inscription above its door; it was simply an abandoned building appropriated for this purpose. There was a lack of materials inside as well, but the place had the two fundamental things to constitute a madrasa, a teacher and pupils. More than twenty children sat on the bare floor, repeating the famous poem ¡®Time and Season¡¯ by al-Tayir in a chorus led by their instructor. ¡°If you brought me here for poetry lessons, I¡¯ll push this cheese wheel up your arse until you spit it out whole,¡± Salah remarked with a glance towards Jawad. ¡°That sounds like a terrible waste of cheese. No, this is my old madrasa, and I am on friendly terms with the teacher. He is going to help us.¡± ¡°You¡¯re alhajin,¡± Salah pointed out with a nod towards the brand on Jawad¡¯s wrist. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that street scum like you were allowed to study here?¡± ¡°Yes. Unlike many others, Hasief never let prejudice keep him from beating knowledge into our little heads. Come on.¡± Jawad moved forward to approach the teacher, waiting a brief moment until the recitation was concluded. ¡°Effendi,¡± he spoke warmly. Hearing the voice, Hasief turned his eyes; both were glassy, and he stared without seeing at his guests. ¡°Jawad,¡± he spoke after a moment. ¡°Already back.¡± ¡°I have good occasion, effendi,¡± Jawad smiled. ¡°This is my friend, Salah.¡± The warrior coughed. ¡°He has food for you and your pupils.¡± ¡°You are a kind and generous soul, Salah,¡± spoke the teacher. ¡°I¡¯m happy to help,¡± he mumbled, sending a disgruntled look at Jawad. ¡°Please, come with me. Bring the food here.¡± The teacher moved past them to leave the main room and enter a corridor. Salah followed him down the hallway, reaching a small kitchen. Hasief gestured towards the table in the middle, where Salah dumped the food. ¡°Thank you both,¡± the old man spoke. An expression ran across Salah¡¯s face. ¡°Jawad?¡± He turned on his heel and looked down the empty corridor. ¡°Jawad!¡± he roared, sprinting back the way he came, but it was too late. The thief had vanished. ~~~~ Leaving his shadow behind, Jawad moved through the narrow alleys of this particular medina, choosing his path with the certainty only a former child of these streets would possess. If there had been any chance of Salah spotting him leaving the madrasa, Jawad was sure to have lost him in the winding alleyways. Taking a more leisurely pace, the thief continued through the southern quarters of Alc¨¢zar. The afternoon heat was gone, being replaced by the coolness of evening. Public houses and teashops were slowly becoming crowded; the day¡¯s work being done, people were congregating for their daily ritual of evening tea and chatting with neighbours. Passing by, Jawad felt no temptation to stop and partake; he moved with a clear goal in mind. Eventually, he left the main street to enter the small alleys and courtyards behind the crowded buildings. Glancing around, he made sure none was watching. Certain that he was alone, Jawad reached up to grab a stone that extended slightly from a wall. Using it for support, he managed to take hold of another higher up and use that to reach a ledge. With a few more displays of acrobatic prowess, he moved along the wall to reach a window with its shutters closed. A thin strip of metal lay waiting for him on the windowsill from his last visit; he prodded it in through the small gap between the shutters and gently pushed the hatch open. Moments later, he was inside. ~~~~ Carrying a bag, a woman entered one of the buildings that littered the southern medinas, providing cramped homes for many people. She greeted the women downstairs with a flicker of a nod, moving swiftly up the stairs to unlock the door to her room. Once inside, she locked it securely behind her and put the bag on a table. Emptying its contents, several apples fell out. The woman grabbed a knife, sat down, and began carefully making an incision into one of the fruits. ¡°I always enjoy watching you work.¡± She jumped to her feet, wielding the knife. From behind a curtain that covered an alcove with a bed, Jawad stepped out with a grin. ¡°Fuck you and every donkey you call ancestor,¡± she swore at him, almost gasping for breath. ¡°Why can¡¯t you knock and use the fucking door?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°It helps me practise.¡± The woman sat down, grumbling as she resumed her work. ¡°Do you have anything for me? What about the old jeweller?¡± ¡°Sadly, it did not go as planned. The old man had a hound that chased me away. I had to run like a dog at the butcher to escape the guards.¡± She grinned. ¡°Not like you to botch a mark, Jawad.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a first time for everything. One of the reasons I am here. I lost my tools.¡± Prying a piece of apple out, the woman took a small ruby and inserted it by the core before placing the removed piece back, making the apple whole again. ¡°Got money for it now?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back with my next mark, which brings me to the other reason I have come. If you have any rumours for me¡­¡± ¡°You want both tools and your next job? What¡¯s next, how about I do the actual thieving?¡± ¡°Amal, Amal, no need to be prickly. You know that helping me is worth your while.¡± She gave a twisted expression. ¡°Yeah, like emptying the boils on an old beggar. That¡¯s sure to pay off.¡± Getting up, she opened a drawer and pulled out a set of picks on a ring. ¡°You better bring me some goods soon. It¡¯s been weeks if not months since you last brought me anything worth fencing.¡± ¡°I am reliability itself,¡± Jawad smiled. ¡°Any leads? Maybe the Black Teeth need a set of quick fingers on their next outing?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t help you there,¡± Amal told him, returning to her work with dissecting apples. ¡°I gave the boys a mark some days ago, and it didn¡¯t work out.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Jawad¡¯s face displayed pure innocence. ¡°It was a simple warehouse job, but Hashim and his morons fucked it up somehow. Of course, they blame it on me, so my reputation is blacker than their teeth these days.¡± ¡°My sympathies,¡± Jawad expressed. ¡°I guess I will have to seek them out myself.¡± Amal gave him a suspicious look. ¡°You¡¯ve never wanted to join up with the Teeth before, even when I recommended it. Why the change of heart?¡± ¡°I got to pay you back for these, don¡¯t I?¡± He jangled the lock picks. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± She sent a glance towards the bed in her room. ¡°You can stay a while before you head over to the Broken Tooth, if you want.¡± Jawad sent her a regretful smile. ¡°Business before pleasure, kitten, and tonight, I am a busy boy.¡± She scoffed. ¡°As if anything you could do would bring me pleasure. I¡¯m putting business first too. This is just a negotiation technique.¡± ¡°Before I leave,¡± Jawad continued. ¡°Have you heard anything about the Prince of Cats?¡± ¡°Just the usual rumours. He pisses gold and shits diamonds,¡± Amal snorted. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± ¡°Idle curiosity,¡± he smiled. ¡°Then I suggest you put your time to better use, you limp-dicked mongrel! You can laze about after you bring me my coin.¡± ¡°When the lioness roars, the horse should run,¡± Jawad quoted with a grin. Swiftly, he opened the shutters to the window and jumped out. ¡°And learn to use the door, you fucking savage!¡± ~~~~ The area around the western docks was littered with taverns and brothels, serving sailors, harbour workers, and anyone else with more coin than self-respect. Possessing little of the former but plenty of the later, Jawad steered elsewhere, treading deep into the medinas of southern Alc¨¢zar. These were streets where the city guard did not enter, nor did any who valued their money or their life; being so close to the cliffs and the water edge, disposal of bodies was an afterthought. By now, evening had arrived in full. The moonlight struggled to illuminate Jawad¡¯s path, and the shadows of the surrounding buildings seemed to encroach on him. Keeping any feelings of discomfort from surfacing, Jawad acted as if he belonged and walked at a deliberately casual pace until he reached his destination. The building had no sign of any kind, but lights and noise from the inside revealed it to be a public house. The locals knew three things about this place. Firstly, that while having no public name, it was commonly referred to as the Broken Tooth. Secondly, it was a gathering spot for the gang known as the Black Teeth. Thirdly, if the uninitiated entered, it was a gamble whether they would be able to leave. Although his teeth were whole and white as ivory, Jawad entered with a confident smile. The common room was packed with people. Some were having hushed conversations, others were playing dice or cards, most were drinking. Young men and women were drifting from table to table, plying the oldest trade. Jawad drew looks as he entered, but there was no immediate reaction to his presence. Besides the door behind him, there was a staircase leading to the upper floor. There was also a door far in the back; while Jawad had never been through it, he knew it would not lead to any kind of escape route, quite the opposite. Keeping his breathing steady, the thief walked up the counter. ¡°Not too late for evening tea, is it?¡± The surly-looking woman gave him a quick glance. ¡°Three petties.¡± Jawad did not bother to argue the inflated price. Instead, he pulled out Salah¡¯s coin purse, which had mysteriously found its way back into his hands, and counted out three copper coins. ¡°There we are.¡± The barkeep made a growling sound but accepted the money and poured some tea into a cup. ¡°Is Hashim here tonight?¡± ¡°You got eyes yourself, don¡¯t you,¡± came the reply. ¡°None as enchanting as yours,¡± Jawad flattered, eliciting only a snort. Instead, the thief turned around, gazing around the room until he saw his target. Sitting by a table, Hashim was surrounded by his henchmen; all of them were engaged in a game of cards, and several were deep in the cups. As befitted the ringleader of such a group, Hashim was the largest and strongest. Numerous scars covered his body, telling a tale of having survived countless fights. One ear was mangled, looking like a dog had chewed it through. As Jawad walked up to the group, Hashim glanced at him. ¡°Who let this piss ant in?¡± Jawad kept his face blank; it had always been a challenge to understand Hashim¡¯s moods. ¡°Hashim, I always bring you something of value,¡± Jawad reminded him. While he spoke, he noticed the earring in Hashim¡¯s undamaged ear, worth about five silver pieces, and the dagger in his belt, worth only trouble. ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood for your tongue and tail wagging tonight,¡± the burly man replied. ¡°Piss off before you get pissed on.¡± Jawad licked his lips, resisting the urge to remark on Hashim¡¯s preoccupation with urine. ¡°This is the most valuable mark I¡¯ve brought you yet, and it¡¯ll also be easy.¡± ¡°It better be worth more than the usual dog shit,¡± Hashim snorted, throwing his cards on the table with disdain as he lost the round. ¡°Several bolts of silk,¡± Jawad said in a gamble. The brute¡¯s demeanour changed entirely. ¡°Now there¡¯s a good boy,¡± he grinned. ¡°Come, sit next to me, Jawad.¡± He pushed one of his companions off the chair next to him. Swallowing, the young thief took the seat. Hashim¡¯s meaty hand fell heavy down on Jawad¡¯s neck. ¡°You¡¯ve never brought me silk before. Weapons, cotton, incense, spices, but never this. You¡¯ve outdone yourself.¡± ¡°Best of all, it¡¯s sitting in a warehouse barely guarded,¡± Jawad continued. ¡°Let me guess, the only guard is a naked jinni, hotter than the desert and begging to be fucked,¡± Hashim laughed. His companions joined in. ¡°Close. They don¡¯t want to draw attention. It arrives tomorrow at the warehouse, being moved the day after. Kept in a plain looking crate to throw off suspicion,¡± Jawad explained. ¡°Each bolt is worth at least a hundred birds.¡± ¡°And my grandma is the Kabir¡¯s courtesan,¡± one of the rogues grinned. ¡°Shut up, you fuckwit,¡± Hashim sneered at his henchman. The table immediately became quiet. His hand on Jawad¡¯s neck began a kneading motion. ¡°How many bolts?¡± ¡°Three.¡± Jawad swallowed again, trying not to dwell on the unpleasant sensation of Hashim¡¯s hand or the stench of his body so close. ¡°How many guards?¡± ¡°One inside the warehouse. Another four patrol the district. They appear about once every hour,¡± Jawad explained. ¡°Plenty of time to force the doors open, get the crate, and be gone.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the warehouse?¡± ¡°The one belonging to al-Badawi by the meat market,¡± Jawad elaborated. Hashim¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I have a bone to pick with that fat silk beard.¡± His hand squeezed uncomfortably tight on Jawad¡¯s neck. ¡°Here¡¯s your chance. The crate will be easy to find, too. It looks ordinary from the outside, but it¡¯s been marked with a black cross on top, so those in the know can distinguish it. People like us,¡± Jawad added. ¡°How did a degenerate pickpocket like you come across this?¡± The question came from Rifat; gaunt and scarred, Jawad knew he had a gift with knives and liked to make use of it. Even now, questioning Jawad, Rifat was twirling a dagger between his fingers. ¡°Dock workers like to drink and talk,¡± Jawad explained. ¡°The crate got damaged during transport, revealing its content. That¡¯s why they¡¯ve had to disguise and move it until it gets sold.¡± Hashim leaned back in his seat, finally withdrawing his hand. ¡°Tomorrow night, you say.¡± ¡°An easy job,¡± Jawad repeated with confidence. ¡°You just need to handle the guard inside.¡± The leader of the gang broke into a smile. ¡°Looks like we got ourselves a mark, my brothers.¡± His companions grinned back at him. ¡°What¡¯s my pay?¡± Jawad asked. It was always good to appear greedy; people never questioned the motivations of a greedy thief. ¡°The fuck are you talking about, pay,¡± Rifat snorted. ¡°You¡¯re not one of the Teeth.¡± He gave a scornful smile, revealing how the lower part of his right fang had been painted black, making it look broken and jagged. ¡°Now, now, dear Jawad deserves something for telling us what his ear heard,¡± Hashim declared magnanimously, winking at the small thief. He reached out to rub Jawad¡¯s earlobe between his fingers. ¡°Such a good, useful ear.¡± Jawad was acutely aware that silence on his part was worth gold in this moment. ¡°For something of this value, why, thirty silver would be reasonable.¡± Hashim¡¯s fingers began to pull down, threatening to tear his ear. ¡°If the silk is there. You wouldn¡¯t be mistaken, Jawad, would you?¡± ¡°Never.¡± Jawad wished he had sounded more confident. It did not escape his attention that some of the thieves from the other tables had gotten up and moved behind him, keeping him surrounded. Hashim brought his face close to Jawad, like a dog sniffing a dead animal. Jawad kept himself facing straight ahead without moving a muscle. ¡°After all, you¡¯re not one of us. Just a street rat,¡± Hashim mumbled. His wet breath landed on Jawad¡¯s ear. ¡°He¡¯s a cocky fellow, chief,¡± Rifat pointed out. In an instant, he had a knife pointed at Jawad¡¯s groin. ¡°Let¡¯s cut him down to size.¡± ¡°Maybe we should initiate him,¡± someone suggested. ¡°The real way. Break his teeth.¡± The cutthroats pressed against Jawad from every side, keeping him trapped. ¡°Quiet,¡± Hashim barked. He released his hold on Jawad and patted the young rogue on the head affectionately. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry that pretty little head. If the mark is solid, Hashim will pay you in full.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Jawad mumbled, not daring to say anything else. ¡°But if you¡¯ve whetted my appetite and there¡¯s nothing tasty at the end of this mark,¡± Hashim continued, his voice turning into a growl, ¡°there won¡¯t be anywhere for you to hide. The Teeth got people watching every street, every ship, every cart in this gods-forsaken city. You hear?¡± ¡°I do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what rat hole you scurry down, we¡¯ll find you.¡± Hashim pushed his nails into Jawad¡¯s ear, talking directly into it. ¡°I¡¯ll make you drink lamp oil and piss on fire.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Hashim patted his cheek. ¡°Good boy. Now fuck off!¡± He pushed Jawad off the chair. Turning around, Jawad crawled as much as walked, moving frantically to escape the tavern while their laughter rang in his ears. Once outside, the thief got on his feet and hurried away. ~~~~ Jawad walked through the night. He stayed in the southern medinas, navigating their labyrinthine streets until he reached a small building; unlike all others, it was built standing free. It was in fact little more than an empty space with an altar inside, serving as a shrine to Elat. Her epithets were many, including the Lady of Luck, the Courtesan of Fortune, the Shadow¡¯s Friend, and so forth. Her true name, fitting to her elusive nature, was hidden, and so she was simply referred to as Elat, the goddess. While thieves were not known for their religious zeal, they all showed her respect; it could be the difference between a patrol walking closer or further away, between the moon illuminating you or hiding behind a cloud, and countless other little coincidences that decided whether your fate was wealth or poverty. A roughly hewn statue of a woman stood upon the altar, which was otherwise bare; priests from the temple came by daily to collect offerings. Jawad left what little remained of Salah¡¯s coin purse on the altar and bowed forward to kiss the foot of the statue. Straightening up, he winked at the statue. ¡°So far, so good.¡± Outside, the horizon was slowly brightening.