A Thief in the Wind

Kasimir had a lot of enemies, did not have enough cash, and sorely wished he had been blessed with bat wings instead of the tiny horns and jet black tail that was whipping back and forth behind him. These were his thoughts as he raced through the center, bag of apples and bread roll wrapped tightly in my fists.

Midnight hair whipping in the wind, Kasimir snuck a look at his pursuer: the baker. He was only a few paces behind him, yelling garbled curses in a language Kasimir had never bothered to learn and chasing after the boy with more speed than he’d expected for a man of his girth. He probably belonged to the Sept of Gladiolus, they were a religious bunch and obsessed with honor, which explained his eagerness to hunt down the bread-stealing-crow-food. Me. The bread knife clutched in his waving hand was enough incentive for Kasimir to sprint faster.

One wouldn’t think a bread knife would be particularly dangerous, unless that person is being chased through a market at top speeds. In this case, said nine inch bread knife became increasingly terrifying.

Especially when, as Kasimir swerved around the corner, the blade suddenly cut into a wood post behind him. Even though he was aiming for Kasimir, the boy couldn’t help the surge of admiration at his predator’s throwing accuracy. This was quickly challenged by gripping anxiety. Spirits, if Kasimir hadn’t turned when he did, the knife would have hit him!

Sneaking a glance behind him, the boy smirked and soon began to laugh. Stealing was exhilarating, a rush in the pit of your stomach that lashed through your bones like lightning. Kasimir loved it: the stealth required to pick a pocket, the wit when finding a target, and the craziness of sprinting away when he screwed himself over--it happened more than he cared to admit. That didn’t stop him from swiping everything he could get his hands on, food, weapons, clothes, or coin.

As such, when his emerald eyes landed on the pearly white necklace in the store cart, he knew there was no going back.

Stuffing the stolen food inside his less than formal pockets, he sauntered--that’s what royals do right--up to the wirier faerie male. His pointed ears twitched as Kasimir approached. His skin was wrinkled, but his eyes were a sparkling gold. His cane clicked on the ground as he shifted closer to his prized merchandise. Like a cockroach.

“I-tictic-May I help you-tictic-boy.”

Kasimir almost abandoned the mission. He hated bugs, they were creepy, and crawly, and had one to many limbs. As if in reply, his tail swished and Kasimir gritted his teeth. It was too late now, the pearls were taunting him. They shimmered in the sun, reflecting little pools of light that Kasimir wanted to bask it. Preening, he shifted closer to the beauties.

“Ya, I… the pearls.”

“Oh, the Akoya Pearl-tictic-Necklace. May I compliment-tictic-your keen-tictic-eyes. They were created by a famous-tictic-crafter of the Sept of Carnation-tictic-who happened to…”

The wiry faerie babbled and babbled, stopping every so often to shift his cane or click his teeth. He seemed happy to tell Kasimir all about the creation of the pearls. Spirit, this is so interesting… wait. No it isn’t. Kasimir knew all he needed to know about the Septs.

The Iris was all about wisdom, purity, and faith--they hosted most of the fortune telling carts. The Orchid was the current ruler, the ones who lived in the High Castle. They were proud, beautiful, and charming. They were also extremely easy to trick, all delicacy and no bite. The Snapdragon symbolized graciousness and strength. Unfortunately, they had bad habits of deception and presumption making them the worse to barter or rob. The Carnation was all about how pretty and perfect they were. They changed moods like the flip of a coin from loving to capriciousness, to disdainful, to innocent, to outright refusal. They were harder to read than poetry. Finally, The Gladiolus--like the baker--valued character, faithfulness and honor. All Sept faeries were marked with a tattoo--that they received at age ten--of a scaling flowers, raging in colors and liveliness, normally according to the their mood.

Of course, all faeries knew this before they could even walk--even street rats like Kasimir knew your Sept was your code, your family. Kasimir didn’t have a Sept or a flower tattoo, being an orphan and all, so he joined one. A gang the higher classes liked to dub them. Sept of Corvus, the crows, an omen of death and bad luck. Kasimir lived up to at least one of those.

Grinding his crooked teeth in the attempt to grin, Kasimir interrupted the faerie. The repetitive clicks were driving him up a wall and he was a jumpy person to begin with, this can’t be healthy.

“How much?”

“Fifty silver-tictic.”

Spirit! I don’t even own a copper.

The appalment must have shown on Kasimir’s face for the wiry man grew perfectly still--the kind of still only faeries can accomplish. He ran a golden eyes over Kasimir and the boy paled. His cover was shotty at best of the top of his head, he didn’t even know a good fake name. Not to mention, he had no tattoo to prove his joining of a Sept.

His fight or flight instincts hit him like a freight train, and he grabbed for the pearls. Pushing down the urge to grab for the dagger in his boot, took most of Kasimir’s self control. Even more so when the bony hand that grabbed his wrist was abnormally strong--especially considering the faerie looked over a hundred. Shivers ran up Kasimir’s spine at the hardened grip, that he tugged uselessly against. Spirits, he will give me to High Guard. No, no, no, no! Devils and crows!

“You a-tictic-thief.”

“N-nah!”

“You-tictic-tried to steal my-tictic-jewelry.”

“Please, sir! I didn’t mean no harm! I only--”

A polished female voice echoed behind Kasimir, “May I say, the boy was fetching them for me.”

The shopkeeper froze, wrinkled skin leeching color by the second. Slowly, he released Kasimir’s hand, cane clicking against the cobbled stone. He nodded, and shifted left and right.

Kasimir dared a glance at whoever had spoken, pearls still clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

“Spirits…” the boy whispered, jaw dropping then promptly snapping shut.

The girl behind him was drop dead gorgeous faerie, her brown hair well down her back in waves and her slate blue eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing gaze that latched on Kasimir. A mesh pattern just barely covering her cleavage changed into a vibrant green fabric that draped to the her feet. Her back was bare, long expanses of flawless cream with orchid’s etched into skin. The flower crawled up her back and across her collarbones, red and pink blossoms blooming.

“May I thank you, I was just on my way to collect them.”

The pearls.

She reached out a hand.

No.

Kasimir looked like a lost, kicked puppy. You don’t kick puppies Sept of Orchid! He was horrified, this stuck up fae angel wanted to steal his almost stolen pearls! The itchy urge to grab the dagger pressed against the skin of his ankle was rising by the second. But, she did save his head from the chopping block. Prying his fingers from the necklace, it dropped with a clatter into her waiting palm.

Then he ran.

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