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  Arlanni bent down to the laces and unfastened the leather strips. The twine which had held them when she arrived had been discarded long ago. "Why is she mocking me", thought the thief. "I am not pretty, I am fat, because you have kept me waiting around so long." Then as if to confirm this, the pants clung obstinately to her hips as she wiggled the waistband over them. As she lifted her bare foot out of the last leg, she realised the woman was still looking at her intently. She quickly shoved the dark pants on the trestle and snatched up the shroud from the floor to conceal her shame.

  "A man might find you attractive", said Victoria in a hard, level voice. She watched with amusement as the thief raised one corner of the shroud to her shoulder, and fumbled awkwardly with another, to hide more of herself from further remarks. She smoothed the garments she now wore. The jerkin was a little short, and the pants would be rather loose, though neither fact would be important. Victoria fastened the boot laces in silence, and snapped the end off one to bind back her long hair with. She then reached under the trestle for a lock pick which had been dropped in the earlier struggle. The thief sat cowering inside the shroud, knees drawn up to her chin, holding the fabric tightly round her.

  "Tell me about the Watch". Arlanni was relieved to be back on to familiar subjects again. "There is a guardhouse to the north.", she answered confidently, having taken the time to study this vital aspect of her work. "Three watchmen are on duty each night, and they take turns to walk through the main streets. They usually carry a crossbow and a cudgel. They are quite predictable and easily avoided." "By a thief", she almost added, but decided such opinions of her trade would not be welcome. "Good. Repack your tools," commanded Victoria, "and wait here till I return".

  Arlanni was very confused as she watched the strange woman leave the mortuary, dressed as a thief, but moving very clumsily. No thief would expect to get very far like that. She wanted to get away from all this, and fast. It was getting too complicated, too quickly. She occupied her mind packing the lockpicks in the tool roll. All apart from the one the woman took. What use would a Grimtooth double-zero be to her?

  The thief decided at that point she was going to run, anywhere, as long as it was away from Hardby. She stood up to race to the door, leaving the shroud where she had crouched. As the shroud fell away, and the cold air raised goosebumps on her skin, she realised a problem. Her white skin, and blonde hair, would shine like a beacon in the moonlight. The shroud, also white, offered no advantage. All her training, at evasion and concealment, relied on appropriate clothing. And the clever woman had taken it all. The woman, who knew who she was, and where she was going before she had even arrived. Whose enchantments could let her enter a locked building and play dead. Who was at least twice her strength. Who was totally in command. Arlanni then knew she was trapped in this contract, and slowly picked up the shroud, to pull about her cold shoulders and wait.

  Victoria, meanwhile, knew that this was the most difficult and dangerous part of the mission for her. She knew where the money in Hardby lived, and headed indirectly for the most impressive house, which happened to belong to the moneychanger. She noted her route, which lay off the main streets, because she would need to retrace it. Arriving at the front door, she squatted in front of it, in full view of the street. The moonlight cast her shadow clearly on the door. She then took the lockpick and began idly poking at the magnificent lock which adorned it. The outer calm hid a deep anxiety. This was going to hurt.

  Old Snaresbutt was not the bravest of the bunch, but he felt that heroism was not a key skill for a watchman at the moment. The dreaded night creatures had not been seen for months, in fact they had never been seen by anyone who could tell of it. What he meant was there were no more unexplained disappearances. Though few townsfolk made the distinction. To him, it was necessary to patrol the streets of Hardby with an unflinching resolve to keep young troublemakers like Oliver Sarmy out of mischief. He took great pride in his achievement. He had given that lad a good whipping in his first week with the watch, and had never seen him or his cronies on the streets again.

  Snaresbutt strolled with practised tread along the narrow wagon track which served as a pavement for the guild quarter. The bright moonlight was a blessing to him, giving a clear view of the great houses who paid his wages. A movement in the near distance had caught his eye. He stopped abruptly, raising the crossbow almost in a reflex action. By the gods! There was someone at the door of Tiberius's stronghold! Too big to be young Sarmy. The watchman had plenty of time to take aim; he knew that Tiberius would award him a griffon piece bonus for a clean kill.

  Another pair of eyes watched the drama unfolding from a nearby rooftop. The black-clad female figure was behaving very strangely, he thought. She had managed to get away from the inn without trace, but had been easier to follow than a wounded pig when she approached the door. And now, she was a sitting target which no competent watchman could possibly miss. The time between the twunk of the bow and the thump of the quarrel was but a blink of an eye. The figure recoiled a span from the momentum of the heavy quarrel as it disappeared into the jerkin, then slumped further forward against the door. The eyes followed the slim rod which fell from its twitching fingers. He observed the watchman approaching, then pause as the figure hauled itself upright and tugged at the straps of the dagger sheath. He saw the watchman reach for his whistle, and heard the shrill sound echo off the walls, which would bring the other watchmen running. Time to go, thought Oliver. He did not want another close encounter with Snaresbutt's cudgel.

  Victoria winced as the bolt tore into her thorax. The impact had taken her breath away, and left her rather giddy. It was a killing shot, she thought. The pain was over now, she could go and claim her reward, her right, that she had planned for all those weeks ago. All she needed was a head start. The crossbowman was approaching, he needs to realise she was still a threat. The dagger would be sufficient, if thrown to miss. Before she could unstrap it, the whistle cut through the air, piercingly loud at such short range. This was a serious complication, one which she had not anticipated. Victoria cursed the thief for not mentioning the whistles, but realised that they are not obvious unless they had been used. An answering whistle told her that time was getting short. She turned and hurled the dagger at the man, who had taken a step backwards as he tried to reload the bow, and it whirled past his ear. The watchman, already unsettled by the fact that his opponent was still alive, turned and ran.

  Arlanni heard the whistles too, and looked up at the door, expecting the watch to burst through at any moment. Then quietly running footsteps, and the woman wearing thief's garb slipped breathlessly through the doorway. "Quick, lock the door" clipped Victoria.. The thief stepped out of the shroud, grabbed the tool roll, and ran barefoot to the door, eager to obey. The watch was as big a threat to her as to her employer, it appeared. By the time the lock clicked shut, Victoria was breathing normally again, and had started to unstrap one of the boots. "Teamwork, eh?", she said brightly as she pulled the boot off and drew up the other. "Now we wait a while".

  It was a good quarter hour before they heard the watchmen tramping around outside, grumbling about their poor fortune to be on duty tonight. The pair were mouse-quiet as a heavy hand rattled the lock, and announced it was secure. Then the crunch of boots receded, and all was still. By this time, Victoria had removed all her clothing and shoved most of the pile towards Arlanni, who had sat huddled in the shroud. "You can dress again. I have no further need of these", said Victoria. So far, things were coming together nicely for her. The quarrel had left a nasty hole which would take a day or two to heal, but it was never a real risk. Her immunity to normal weapons gave her so much more tactical flexibility.

  The hunger returned to Victoria as she sat cross-legged on the trestle watching the thief stand up to pull on the pants. The smooth, rounded features carried such promise to her kind. First though, the girl deserved an explanation. "Do you know why you were spared?" began Victoria, as the thief tightened the boot s
traps. "Spared from what?" asked Arlanni, suddenly feeling worried. "Come now, has a month of good living affected your memory so quickly?" she retorted. "Why were you nursed back to health, when your fellow thieves all perished?". The thief shook her head.

  "Your body is quite exquisite", continued Victoria. She really meant this, but not for the reasons that Arlanni could guess at. "It could stir the heart of any man". Victoria could not see the thief blush at this compliment, since the moonlight washed out the colour. She did notice the thief quickly look around for the jerkin, but as Victoria was still sitting on it, reach instead for the shroud. "I think you were spared because he liked you" she said in a voice choked with jealousy. Arlanni sensed the tension, and drew the shroud quickly up to her shoulders with both hands. Victoria then hopped smartly off the trestle and strode towards the trembling girl, who was backing away towards the locked door.

  "He is MINE!", she roared, filled with an emotion which had been gnawing at her mind since Belphanior had healed and freed the thief after the raid on the castle in Helgate. "You violated our home, you sought to steal our wealth, you tried to kill us when we defended ourselves. What right have you to be LIKED by him?"

  Arlanni was too shocked to speak. She felt very frightened of this angry woman and only wanted to get out of this room as soon as possible. She was leaning with her bare back against the door by now, gripping the shroud protectively over her neck with both fists, shaking her head at the woman whose face was hard with rage. She was locked in this trap by her own hands. The shroud was torn away from her by powerful arms and tossed into the centre of the room. She crossed her wrists defensively in front of her chest, palms flat below her collar, watching and waiting fearfully for whatever punishment was due.

  Victoria stepped back to regard the terrified thief. She then reached forward and gripped Arlanni's upper arm. The girl shrank away from her firm grasp, but could only press herself harder against the cold rough wood of the door. "The innkeeper has fattened you up nicely", she said menacingly, squeezing the soft flesh twice. "Hagor? Fattened?" whispered Arlanni, through dry lips. "Oh, don't be angry with him. He knows nothing about me", said Victoria casually, the terror in the girl's eyes having mollified her fury. "Then this was all .. a trick?", said Arlanni, scarcely believing what she was hearing. "Of course", answered the woman. "I could have killed you anytime I wanted. But you were skin and bones when you left Helgate. Now I take my profit. I am a vampire".

  Half an hour or so later, Victoria stood up feeling quite full, and very satisfied with the outcome of her plan. The net cost would be only two round trips and one of her odd gemstones. It was good value. The girl's blood was fresh, nourishing and plentiful. She looked down at the remains of her leisurely meal, laid chest down on the trestle. It had been so refreshingly different from the usual rushed feeding. Two round holes close together in the upper back revealed the manner of the assault, and nature of the assailant. A few bruises and scratches suggested a short struggle. She had put up quite a fight, thought Victoria. Now though, drained of much of her blood, she did not even have the strength to stand.

  Arlanni groaned quietly, and attempted to rise to her hands and knees. Exhausted by the effort, she collapsed back onto the boards. She then hauled herself onto an elbow to raise her head to speak. "You won't get away with this", she gasped, "they will find me and hunt you down". The vampire stood in full view of the thief, legs apart and arms on bare hips in triumph. "You fool!", she taunted. "Do you think I have not planned for that?" Arlanni closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of the vampire's stomach swollen with her own blood. She twisted ineffectually as her limp arms were stuffed into the sleeves of the jerkin. She felt a hand thrust under her waistband lift her easily off the trestle and toss her onto the floor. She realised ironically that the waistband was now a much looser fit. She felt the hem of the jerkin being tugged downwards and then smoothed on her back. Something sharp was being prodded through the jerkin, finding its place on her skin. Then it was stabbed deeply into her body.

  The wretched thief convulsed as Victoria used her inhuman strength to push the quarrel, which she had removed from herself, through the puncture wounds from her feeding. By the grey light she saw the dark fluid pulse out from the hole, flow over the jerkin and drip from the fletching. "Excellent!", thought Victoria. She had judged the remaining blood in her victim to make a convincing puddle on the floor. She allowed herself to gloat just once more. "They will not find a vampire's victim in here. They will find a thief who crawled wounded into the mortuary and bled to death!".

  Poor Arlanni died shortly afterwards, alone and delirious on the mortuary floor. By then, a well-fed bat was well over a quarter of the way back to Helgate, clutching a tiny diamond locket and chain in its claws.

  The following morning found a town in the grip of a crisis. News of the encounter by the watch had spread like wildfire, and the two versions which circulated were remarkably consistent. The wizard's woman, as she was known, had been killed attempting to break into Tiberius's stronghold by the fearless Snaresbutt. Her body was found, fittingly, in the mortuary, with a set of lockpicks as evidence of her profession. Hagor was rather sad that it had ended thus. He was not sorry that the wizard's funds were now his to invest on property development, and the inn at Hardby later sported an extra wing.

  "Can I keep it?" said Oliver to his grandfather. "Grimtooth double zero", said Tiberius approvingly, turning the slim black rod over in his hand. "Good pick, that. Dropped by the thief last night, you say?" Oliver nodded. "What sort of lass was she, now?". Oliver considered this a bit. "She had a podgy tummy" he finally replied, with a definitive air. Tiberius scowled. "No, no, I mean was she acting like a professional thief?" he asked, exasperated. "Sometimes yes, and sometimes no", answered Oliver, with utter honesty. Tiberius lost patience with the boy then, and spoke what was on his mind. "Well, lad, your tale takes some believing. You need at least a number 5 to do that lock of mine. This here", he said, jabbing the little pick towards his youngest apprentice for emphasis, " is only good for jewellery".

  Belphanior was asleep when Victoria returned to the castle just before dawn broke. So they did not meet each other until the following evening. He knew her true nature and had a shrewd idea of what she had been up to. It was now over a month since the failed break-in, when she had fed well on the fallen. "How was the hunting?" he asked. He didn't need to ask whether it had been a success; her smug, flushed appearance told of a recent full meal. He was more concerned at the greater distances she needed to fly each time to reach unprotected victims. "More like farming", she replied, with a huge grin.

  The End (and I really mean it).

  The legal bit (based on Tom's version)

  Many of the locations, non-player characters, spells, and other terms used in these stories are the property of TSR, Inc. However, TSR has in no way endorsed or authorised their use, and any such items contained within this story is not representative of TSR in any fashion. The characters of Victoria, Belphanior and Arlanni depicted in this story are copyright 1991-2000 by Thomas A. Miller. Other characters are copyright 2000 by Jeffrey M Howell. Any resemblance to any persons or characters either real or fictional is utterly coincidental. Copying and/or distribution of this story is permissible under the sole condition that no money is made in the process.

  Jeff Howell

  [email protected]

  21 May 2000