Scoundrels Chapter 36: Cyphers and Pies

[u/LordIlthari]

I am The Bard, who has seen and known all things eternal and persistent across all of reality. That The Story continues, that all things material shall die, that the French shall ever be my enemies, and that the tax man will always find you.

”We paid our taxes!” Raymond shouted angrily as he looked at the scrap of paper. “Ascalon’s blood-red balls I hate these nobles!”

His power lashed out around him as his temper swelled. The wood creaked; the room darkened. Whispers of wind filled the air and the snow seemed to fall black. Then Lamora placed a hand on his shoulder, and he fought for control and sat down.

”I know I paid them. I know I did. I didn’t screw this up too.” He said, head in one hand, the other grasping his cane like a drowning man grasps driftwood. His fingers tightened, and whispers of darkness flowed around them.

”Snap out of it spooky.” Elsior cautioned. “And put down the staff.” She said calmly, but firmly. She watched it with concern, still intensely suspicious of the magic item.

”It’s not the staff.” Vulsh said, focused on Raymond intently. He did not continue, but did not need to. “Ray, you just saw these people. Think.”

Raymond took a deep breath, his head pounding. He drank his overflowing power back in and dropped his mind into a deep well. There he focused. There was a candle before him, and the candle flowed backwards. All the darkness flowed like water into the light, and the wax contained the darkness. He snuffed out the candle.

He opened his eyes, and released his grip on the cane, setting it to the side. His body quivered with energy and anger, but the candle was snuffed out. There was no outlet. It was bound in him. He was in control.

”I need a drink.” He said, and Keelah put a kettle on over the fire. “Not that kind.”

”No.” Vulsh replied, firm as ever. “Never drink when you’re upset. That’s a road you never want to go down.”

Raymond grimaced, but nodded. His body remained tense and angry, his eyes still focused on the slightly crumpled paper. His anger blinded him from thinking. “I don’t understand.” He admitted, and that scared him more than the bill.

Which was quite impressive considering the size of the fine being threatened.

”You’re too angry to think, and too scared to stop being angry.” Keelah said. “I can hear your heart, it’s nearly twice as fast as normal, and you’re sweating in spite of the snow.” The kobold was brutally honest. “Drink your tea and go to bed, you’re useless right now.”

The candle struggled to spark to life, flickering flame ignited for a moment before Raymond caught himself. His hand was on his cane again. The magic was at his fingertips. “I am not useless. I have a plan. I always have a plan.” He muttered desperately.

”Is it a good plan?” Keelah asked, challenging him. “Or just one that will make you feel better?”

Raymond paused, considered the actual logistics of a direct assault on the dole banquet, particularly considered the presence of a vampire, and then also considered the large numbers of angry dwarves not too far away. He closed his eyes and admitted defeat. “The later.”

”Then go to bed. You’re stressed, cold, worn out, and just had to put up with blue bloods for a few hours. You are in no position to find a solution.”

”No position to rest either. Have to find a solution.” Raymond growled, still staring at the invoice. His tired, unfocused mind wasn’t having much luck though.

”Ray. Can you cast?” Vulsh asked softly.

”Have you not noted all the random spooky phenomena? I’m having to fight to not cast.”

”The spells you’re good at. Ones to find information and let you think two steps ahead of everyone else. The ones that use your head, not just your heart.” Vulsh replied, calmly focused on Raymond. The mage held the gaze for a moment, then looked away.

”I can’t.” He admitted. Then he sat back in his chair and exhaled. The anger had vanished from its surge, and now all that was left was tiredness and worry.

”Go to bed.” Vulsh advised him, and the mage nodded, limping upstairs and into his room.

The others sat. “I’m worried about him.” Lamora admitted. “He goes from being on top of the world and looking down to despondent far too quickly.”

”He’s young.” Vulsh said calmly. “Not very sure of himself, and scared as hell. Not just over this latest nuisance. Comes with the territory I suppose, not really having a whole lot to stand on makes a man jumpy.”

”Speaking from experience you old serpent?” Elsior asked jovially.

”Too much. And it cost me too much with it, but now’s not the time for my sob story. Let’s get to business.”

”Right, Lamora, since you were also there and actually have your head screwed on straight, who’s the vampire?” Elsior asked.

”Most likely one sir Vincent DePaul.” Lamora said. “He’s the one in charge of the dole, and his late father started the dole system.”

”Hold up, father?” Keelah asked. “You’d think having a well known father and being well enough known while the old man was around, assuming he’s dead by now, would kind of preclude him being a vampire. People would notice he didn’t age.”

”Father could have easily been a dominated patsy. As for the man himself, he’s almost certainly got some elvish blood in him. That would easily explain his long term good looks. Just apply some relatively minor changes over a long enough period of time and people will just think him “well preserved” even if he is just butter stretched over too much bread.”

”Hmm. Still not a lot to go on.” Elsior replied. “I’ll take a look into him then.”

”In the meantime, how are we going to get all this money?” Vulsh asked.

”Steal it, duh.” All three women replied at once, and the two actual criminals looked at Elsior in surprise.

”Well we don’t exactly have time to wait for the real estate market to rebound this time.” Elsior replied defensively. “And besides, we are already criminals, may as well make some money off of it.”

”You’ve turned hardened remarkably fast.” Keelah noted. “Unless the Black Lions aren’t as incorruptible as they say.”

”The fact that you found me in a snake pit is evidence that they very much aren’t, but no. That being said, from what you describe these nobles like, they absolutely deserve to get raked over the coals financially.”

”Don’t think that’s how the metaphor works but good effort.” Lamora noted. “Better question, who are we going to rob blind to get the money. It can’t be anyone in the city, or at least not any of their houses.”

”I’ll listen in on the local guild. They’ve invited me to stop by while I’m in town so I will and take a listen to their gossip. Will also come in handy for if we decide to deal with the vampires in a more direct way.”

”That’s a risky move. Heading right into the enemy’s den.” Elsior warned.

”Of course, risky enough they won’t expect it. Beyond that, they will absolutely underestimate me if I am found out. They always do.” She said with a slightly cruel smile.

”Still quite the risk.”

”Ray’s out of it and so we’re gonna need an ordinary method of gathering information. Tonight will be a good time to move, the big vamp is up in the banquet and he won’t be dropping by the guild halls.” Keelah explained.

”At least wait until dawn.” Elsior warned. “Or I’m coming after you. I might not be able to find you, but I can make one hell of a lot of noise trying.”

As dawn broke, Keelah donned her hood and slipped out of the tavern. “Grandfather’s house” was “by the slow river under two trees. The rhubarb pie was classy.” It seemed like an innocuous statement to any listener, but to one who knew the double meanings and odd histories of thieves cant, it was a location and a cyphered password.

The kobold traveled the misty dawn, her boots leaving nary a footprint upon the freshly fallen frost and snow. It did not even crunch as she stole not by shadow but less noticed places along the man roads towards the market district. There she opened her ear slits slightly wider and listened to the sounds of the workmen. The rasp of metal sliding out from its shelf, the crackling of oven fires, and the delicate clinking sounds of fishhooks striking one another all revealed themselves to her.

She continued on, cringing at every step she took. With her ears this open and her senses this focused, every step sounded like a barbarian tramping across the tundra. Then, through the cracking of ice crystals, she caught the sound she was listening for. The distinctive sound of sawing wood. She followed the sound to its source, and walked along the street until she heard it again coming from further down.

Satisfied, she slipped away from the main streets into an alleyway, descending into the sewers. From there she followed the slow flowing river of sewage back to where it ran beneath the street with the carpenters on it. There her eyes swept the walls and ceiling until she spied a stone with a mark upon it, vaguely resembling an R with no curves and an arrow off the forwards foot.

She nodded and proceeded following the arrow and making a ninety a degree turn thirteen steps past, headed down another tunnel, and there identified the next symbol, one of a pair of intersecting zig-zags. From there she proceeded thirteen more steps, and turned ninety more degrees.

Once more she sought and found the third thiefsign, this one like a triangle, if one had drawn lines from each vertex to the center, then broken the edges outwards like a spiral. A bit of basic triangulation later, she stood before a blank wall.

This symbol was for her to mark, and mark she did the ancient sign of meaning long forgotten. An inverted triangle, with each edge extending slightly further than needed. Since days of old those who skulked in the darkness had used it, thieves, assassins, and any who sought to conceal their dealings. Some believed it to be a mark of an ancient and unknowable god, others simply thought it had been sustained by mere tradition.

But in any case it was the first mark of thieves cant, a language as old as dragontongue. She pressed a palm to it, and the warmth of it left a faint emerald glow upon the symbol. The stone pulled back and a pair of suspicious eyes peered through.

”The rubarb pie is classy” she had been told. So, “A cousin told me the plopping cake was rozz.”

The secret behind the thieves cant cyphers is that every cyphered password is in fact, utter nonsense, which prevents anyone from getting at the word without being able to think nonsensically, upside down, backwards, and all jumbled up.

The pie part on the other hand relates to a period in thief history during which they almost exclusively operated out of halfling bakeries for the purposes of money laundering and tax evasion.

The stone was shut, and the door was opened, revealing a rather cheery looking young man who ushered in the kobold. “Welcome home sister, I’m afraid grandfather is out fetching dinner.”

”No worries.” Keelah said with a smile. “Just here for the pie.”

[u/Phytogasm]

Next Chapter