Because I'm Awesome

by Slavok

Louise could handle a weak familiar. She could handle a strong familiar. But what she can't handle was a completely unpredictable kleptomaniac with only a passing deference to the laws of physics and a three word answer to everything. And ever since she summoned Lift, someone started stealing everyone's dinner!

3. Chapter 3

Because I'm Awesome

Chapter Three

"I will remember those who have been forgotten."
-Stormlight Archive

Lift didn't normally like being Awesome in public. It made people ask questions and start rumors, but with everyone flying around whenever they felt like it and blowing stuff up all the time, she figured that a bit of Awesomeness wouldn't hurt none.

And if rumors did start to cause trouble, she could leave. She'd done it so many times before that she couldn't keep track of half the places she had gone through. And before she left, maybe she'd find out why the place was so messed up, like why the moons were wrong. Last night, Nomon was huge, Salas had turned pink, and Mishim wasn't anywhere at all.

There weren't no spren here neither. It was bad enough that she couldn't tell where the wind was blowing without any Windspren flying about, but it seemed like such a waste of time to show off when there weren't any Awespren to be impressed.

All in all, the place was quiet and boring, but if anyone could fix boring, she could.

"Well," Louise said afterwards as they walked up the stairs to her bedroom. "You managed to make quite the spectacle of yourself."

It didn't sound like she had noticed Lift's Awesomeness, and was just referring to the duel. "I won, didn't I?"

"Yes, Lift, you won. You won a fight that you really shouldn't have been in to begin with. I know you were looking out for a friend, and I respect that, but what do you think is going to happen now? Do you think that Guiche is going to accept the defeated you handed him? Do you think he'll be cowed and duck his head whenever you pass?"

"Yup." And if he didn't, they could always have a rematch.

Louise blinked. "Well, yes, Guiche might, but if you keep this up, you'll cross someone less spineless, and then you'll get in trouble."

Lift grinned. "Neat!"

"No, Lift, not neat. Bad. And because you are my familiar, it is my responsibility to keep you out of trouble, so from now on I will need to keep you busy in a probably vain attempt to reign in your nonsense."

Lift made a face. "That sounds starvin' dull." Her stomach growled. "Can this wait till after dinner?"

"Dinner? No, it can't! And you just had lunch. If you do nothing but eat all the time, you're going to get fat. You don't want to get fat, do you?"

"Yes."

"No, Lift, no you do not."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"Lift, I am your master. Do not contradict me." She opened the door to her bedroom. "But as I was saying, I need to keep you busy, so from now on cleaning my room is your responsibility. I expect you to keep everything spotless, dusted, and polished while I'm in class, or you don't get to eat."

Lift stared at her aghast. "What? But ain't feedin' me part of that contract thingy?"

"Yes. And if you fulfill your end of said contract, there should be no problem." She smiled smugly, the stormin' lady. Maybe Lift should light her bed on fire the next morning. That'd learn her to threaten her dinner. Louise picked up a pile of clothes and placed it in her arms. "You can start immediately with this."

Lift looked down at the bundle. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Launder them."

"Huh?"

Louise sighed. "Wash them."

Lift sniffed them. "They're already clean."

"What? No they're not. I already wore them."

"Yeah? How many times?"

Louise pointed at the door. "Go."

Lift hobbled out the door with her arms full of perfectly clean clothes that she was supposed to wash anyway, plotting revenge.

"If you like," Wyndle said, growing along the wall beside her, "you could leave. I imagine that if you ask directions to the nearest town, you could sell those clothes for enough to live on for some time."

Lift looked at him in surprise. "Wait, are you advisin' me to steal?"

"Well, you have never objected to criminal behavior before."

"But you hate it when I steal!"

"Yes, but I confess that I reached the lowest point in my existence some time ago, and I do not trust that girl."

Lift grinned. "Oh, Wyndle, I am so proud of you! We'll make a proper Voidbringer of you yet, just you wait."

Wyndle sighed. "I recant my previous statement. Now is the lowest point in my existence."

Before she could respond, Lift nearly bumped into a maid coming up the stairs. She recognized her as the maid with no survival instincts that Guiche had been so upset with earlier, and the maid recognized her too.

"You! You're the commoner that noble girl summoned! You're the one who challenged a mage to a duel–and won!" She was taller than Lift with straight black hair down to her chin, the face of a young woman, and the body of a grown one.

"Um, that might have been me." That was the problem with being so awesome; people noticed you, and it was starvin' difficult to work as a master thief when everyone knew who you were.

"Of course it was! I saw the whole thing! Oh, my name is Siesta, by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but … you know what? Let me take those." She took the bundle of clothes from Lift's arms. "Would you like to meet the rest of the staff? They're all talking about you and they'd love it if you could stop by the kitchen if you're not in too much of a hurry."

Ugh, fans. "I would, but …." Kitchen? "Sure."

Siesta beamed. "That's wonderful! It's right this way." She led Lift down the stairs. "I have to say, watching you duel Lord Guiche was the bravest thing I have ever seen. It was the sort of thing I'd expect to read in a story! Why'd you do it?"

Because someone has to care. Too few people do. But that wasn't the sort of thing she could say to someone who was already impressed with her, so she shrugged and said, "I was bored."

"You dueled a mage … because you were bored?"

"Yup."

"Ah." Siesta fell silent for a moment. Lift stuck her hands in her pockets and found the roll of hard bread she had stuck there earlier as well as something she had gotten from Guiche during their fight. It was a bag of something dense–a bunch of yellow metal disks with a picture of a lady's face on them.

"Hey Siesta? What are these?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, wow! That's a lot of money!"

"Money?" That was boring. She tossed it over her shoulder.

"Are you just throwing that away?"

"Why not? It's just money." Siesta stopped and stared at the bag as though it were a pastry. "You can have it if you want."

"Really?" Siesta asked. She scurried over to the bag and pocketed it. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

"Guiche."

"Lord Guiche? You mean you dueled a noble and extorted him?"

"Um, if extorted means what I think it means, then yup." Folks were always making up new words for thieving.

When they reached the kitchens, Siesta pushed the doors open and announced, "Here she is!" The cooks, chefs, and everyone in between, all wearing white clothes and funny hats, looked up and cheered.

"That was amazing!" one of them said. "To think that such courage and determination could dwell in one so small, it brings a tear to my eye."

"Truly, little one, you are an inspiration."

"How does it feel knowing that you are possibly the most incredible person who has ever lived?"

"Hungry," Lift said. The cooks laughed. "I'm serious! It feels like lunch was yesterday."

The cook with the biggest hat stepped forward. "Of course! One does not become the champion of the common man on bread and water. Allow me to fix you a dish worthy of your accomplishments."

"Champion of the what now?" But the cook filled up a plate for her that smelled so exquisite it drove all coherent thought out of her head.

Siesta smiled. "While you're eating, I'll go ahead and finish your chores for you. It's the least I can do."

Lift looked up from her meal. "Okay, but make sure you do a really bad job. Otherwise, Louise will know it wasn't me."

WWW

Cooks, Lift decided, were the greatest people in the world. Without them, folks would spend all day biting rocks and wonderin' why they didn't have teeth no more. Marteau, the cook with the biggest hat, was the one in charge of everything, making him the chief chef. He would always give Lift something to eat when she came by on account of her being able to make the snobby nob she dueled squeal like a pig, which was a skill that endeared respect around here, even more than thievin'.

Siesta continued doing Lift's chores after that, as much as she could. Lift had to dust the windowsill when Louise was watching, but near everything else she could hand off to Siesta. Siesta insisted on doing as much as she could 'cause she was a real nice lady and 'cause Lift had given her a bag of money which was apparently real valuable around here. Lift didn't see why; spheres looked pretty and you could use them for light, but gold was just heavy.

Still, she spent a lot of time eating in the kitchen and she still hadn't learnt how to do laundry, so she was happy with that.

Scholars, though, were a strange lot. She was at a school, but out of everyone only two of them were scholars, and one of them wanted Lift for an experiment. Lift would have said no, but no one asked her, the scholar only asked Louise, and Louise said yes 'cause the scholar was a teacher and if you do what the teacher says, he'll tell people you're smart.

The scholar was the Ardent Lift had met her first day here, though apparently he wasn't an Ardent at all.

"Not all fire mages are Ardents," Louise explained. "Really, the only person who uses that Runic Name is Kirche."

"Kirche, who's Kirche? Wait, ain't she the one with the huge …."

"Monster breasts? Yes, that's her."

"She's an Ardent?" Lift looked down at her feet. Everything she knew about Vorin priests was wrong.

Colbert the not-Ardent cleared his throat. "So, now that that's out of the way, shall we begin?" They were outside, not far from her duel. "Now, Lift, was it? I did some research on your runes, and I believe that they might, I'm not certain though, but they might give you special abilities."

"Like belchin'?" Marteau never seemed to mind, but Lift wished that she could express her appreciation for his cooking proper.

"Um, no. More like, if I am correct, weapon expertise." Colbert waved his staff and a sword appeared in the air. It wasn't like a Shardblade forming out of nothing, it was just him using magic to make a normal sword. Out of nothing. "Now, I want you to take this sword and try to use it. Pay close attention if you feel anything different like increased strength or speed, and let me know–this is important–if you start glowing."

Lift froze. Glowing? Storms, he was onto her!

"Mistress," Wyndle said, "whatever you do, do not Invest."

She nodded and reached for the sword. She never liked weapons none. Swords, knives, those nasty ropes Fenric always carried with him, a good thief didn't need nothing like that. Sure, if someone saw you cartin' off family heirlooms they'd get a tad upset, but that was how the game worked! If you lopped the head off of anyone you liked, what was the point?

She picked it up. "Now what?"

"Oh, just use it," Colbert said. "And let me know if you feel any different."

She swung the sword around awkwardly. It was a stormin' heavy piece of junk with its own idea of where it wanted to go, and Lift got bored of the game fast. She started trying to balance it in the air when Louise spoke up.

"Lift, stop fooling around. This is important." She glanced at Colbert. "I think."

"Oh yes, very important," Colbert assured her. "But um, it's best if your familiar continues doing whatever feels natural."

"Natural? My familiar struggles with basic cutlery, and you expect her to know how to use a sword?"

"Honestly, I only expect to carry out the experiment, and should nothing unusual happen, then I will merely have failed to disprove the null hypothesis."

Lift switched positions with the sword and drove it into the ground–narrowly missing Wyndle–and climbed on top of it. "What's that?" she asked.

"Ah! I'm glad you asked. You see, statistical observation can reveal a correlation, but to determine causation, one needs to set up an experiment. Each experiment has two hypotheses: the null hypothesis, where there is no relationship between distinctive phenomena, and the alternative hypothesis, where …." He droned on for a bit, and Lift lost track of what he was saying. "Do you understand?"

Lift blinked. "Your head is really shiny when the sun's out."

He paused. "I think we've learned all we can from swords. Let's try something else."

He conjured a spear, the only major weapon to beat the sword in the age-old battle of looking like a dick. Lift ran with it and tried to pole vault into the air, but she only got halfway up before falling back down.

"So," Louise said. "Is this what research is usually like? Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but giving children random sharp objects doesn't seem, well, that responsible."

"Yes, well, just be happy there aren't any trolls involved." Colbert cleared his throat. "Spears do not appear to have affected a change, so let's move on to bows."

He conjured a bow and a quiver of arrows, which Lift had at least seen used before. Or at least held. When she nocked an arrow, it didn't seem to want to cooperate much and kept on moving. She pulled the string back, looked for a direction not likely to hit no one, and ended up aiming straight up.

Siesta, who was passing by, screamed as the arrow landed right in front of her.

"Sorry!" Lift called out. "Sorry, Siesta. I was aiming for that cloud." Stormin' crossbreeze, messing up her aim.

"Lift! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What …." Siesta noticed the two important people she was with. "May I ask what exactly you are doing?"

"No idea. You could ask the bald guy, but he don't know much, and what he knows doesn't make no sense. He can talk forever, though."

"That's it!" Colbert said suddenly. "The control group! That's what this experiment is missing!" He pointed a finger at Siesta. "You! Siesta, was it?"

"Um …." She seemed to be wonderin' how fast she could change her name. Smart move when a mad scholar was after you.

Colbert conjured a second bow and quiver. "Yes, you'll do perfectly. Now take these and … and do whatever you feel like."

Siesta took the bow and stared at it. "Okay, so you want me to do … what with them?"

"This," Lift said. She nocked an arrow, pulled the string back, and released, letting the arrow spin around in the air as confused as a king tryin' to figure out what to spend his money on. "Only, in a straight line." Starvin' archers made it look so easy.

"Oh," Siesta said. "I think it works more like this." She pulled an arrow back and launched into the air in a perfect arc. And she didn't even have to cut off one of her breasts first neither.

"How'd you do that?"

Siesta glanced behind her, where Colbert watched with interest, and Louise watched half bored to tears. "I've, um, used one before. It's really quite simple. Here, let me help. You just hold it like this, watch the feathers because they'll mess up the shot, pull back, further, further, hold your breath, and let go."

The arrow went straight and true, right into a stone wall. "Awesome!" Now all Lift needed was a target. A chicken soared peacefully overhead. Close enough. "Hey, Siesta! I bet I can hit that chicken."

Siesta looked up. "I think that's an owl."

Lift squinted at the sky. "No. See how it has wings and feathers? It's a chicken."

"That makes it a bird."

"Is bird a type of chicken?"

"No, a chicken is a type of–"

"Tell you what, we'll do a taste test. If it tastes like chicken, it's a chicken, and if it tastes like bird, it's a bird."

"But–"

"I'll even race you for it. Whoever knocks it out of the sky gets declared Queen of the Chicken-Birds." Lift shot an arrow before Siesta could argue further, and the maid nocked an arrow of her own to not give Lift too much of a head start.

"This does not seem safe," Siesta said as arrows returned to the ground, pointy-end first.

"It's scholarship," Lift explained. "It's not supposed to be safe." Colbert started to say something, but he was cut off when one of Lift's arrows shot right through the chicken's wing. "Yes! Queen of the Chicken-Birds, right here!"

"No," Siesta said. "I believe it was my arrow that hit it." The chicken let out a single squawk and glided down somewhere on the other side of the Academy.

"Was not!" Lift turned to Louise and Colbert. "You two was watchin'. Who hit it?"

"I don't know," Louise admitted. "But I do know that the creature you hit was an owl, not a chicken."

"What?" If Louise was gonna be her master, then the least she could do was side with her.

"And if an owl was flying around," Louise continued, "at this time of day, then it leads one to believe that the owl was–"

"Lucky!" someone cried out in the distance. "Oh, Lucky, who did this to you? Why, Lucky? WHY?"

"… someone's familiar," she finished.

"Oh dear," Colbert said. "Perhaps I should have installed a few more precautions in this experiment. In any case, this test is over." He waved his staff, and the weapons he had made turned into sawdust. Lift sneezed. "Thank you all for your time. I will go catalogue my findings."

As he walked away, Wyndle spoke up. "Mistress, I don't know how much that man knows about you, but with your permission I will follow him." Lift nodded just slightly enough for him to notice, and he sprouted away.

"You know," Siesta said after a moment. "Now that I think about it, I believe it really was your arrow that hit it."

Lift looked up at her and grinned. "So does that mean you're gonna call me Queen of the Chicken-Birds from now on?"

Siesta bit back a smile. "Do you really want me to?"

"Yes."

WWW

Wyndle trailed the man named Colbert up through the central tower, hoping that Lift wouldn't get into too much trouble without him. Not that he ever could have kept her out of trouble before; in fact, she seemed drawn to mischief deliberately to torment him. Without him around, for all he knew she'd pick up gardening.

The tower was taller than anything a sane man would have built on Roshar, but the stormless skies of Halkeginia were more inviting toward those who wished to reach up to them. As Wyndle grew up the inner wall, he found himself further away from Lift than he had ever been since they had been bonded together.

That was dangerous. Lift was his anchor during his sojourn into the Physical Realm, and without her he would lose his cognisance. But he was a spren. To him, distance, like everything else, was a state of mind.

"The experiment has failed to disprove the null hypothesis," Colbert said. He stood in a room near the top of the tower and addressed a man sitting at a desk. Humans were subject to time in ways Wyndle still didn't understand, but judging by the second man's white hair, wrinkled skin, and rather large nose, Wyndle guessed that he was much older than Colbert.

"So, that means …?"

"That … the experiment has failed to disprove the null hypothesis?" Colbert said again.

The older man sighed. "I retired from academia last century when I became the Headmaster. These days I'm more a political animal than a scholar."

"Of course. My apologies, sir. I offered the familiar a series of basic weapons, but she showed no more aptitude for them than one might expect from an average commoner."

"So she's not Gandalfr?"

"I did not say that. Perhaps the runes are just a false positive, a coincidence, or perhaps the experiment did not meet the requirements to trigger her, um, Gandalfness. I observed no supernatural abilities, her runes did not show signs of activation, and when I cast Detect Magic on her, I picked up no more magic than what I might gather from a rock or tree that had spent enough time on the Academy grounds."

"Have you considered using–"

"No trolls."

"The coupon expires at the end of the month, Colbert! I have to use it on something."

"Not on children. Headmaster."

The man called Headmaster sighed. "It's always about the children with you, isn't it? Oh well. Maybe I can make a gift out. Do you think the princess would like a troll? I know if I were a princess I'd like a troll."

They continued talking about nothing of importance, leaving Wyndle to wonder, What is Gandalfr? And what does Gandalfr have to do with Lift?

WWW

Whenever Osmond discussed something important, he asked Matilda to leave the room. That suited her just fine. Asking her to leave let her know that he was about to say something he didn't want her to know, and she knew a dozen and a half ways to eavesdrop across a Barrier of Silence. She was, after all, Fouquet, the greatest thief in Tristain.

The Headmaster, of course, knew her only as Miss Longueville, a pretty waitress he had met in a tavern and hired as his secretary. Miss Longueville had a first name, but so far no one had asked her what it was. That annoyed her and made her think that she had over prepared for this heist. Honestly, she had an entire fictional tragic backstory written down and memorized that no one had wanted to know about.

Matilda listened as the Headmaster droned on and on with one of the teachers about the familiar who wasn't Gandalfr. Maybe one day they'd talk about something interesting, like the treasury's greatest weaknesses, but she doubted it. Still, she paid attention to every conversation she was excluded from just to be safe.

As she waited, Count Mott ascended the staircase. He was an oily man who shot her an oily smile under an oily mustache that probably had its own (oily) hair dresser. That thing on his upper lip was thin and curled just like his eyebrows, for crying out loud! He was also the palace's representative to the Academy, allowing him to get away with nearly anything.

"Miss Longueville, you are looking radiant today," he said with a leer that he probably meant as a smile. Whenever he looked at her, he seemed to be undressing her with his eyes. "Have dinner with me sometime."

Was that a request or an order? Either way it made her skin crawl, but she managed to suppress her gag reflex the same way she always did when he came to visit. She imagined him bursting into flames.

"I'd love to," she said as in her mind's eye his hair caught on fire and his skin peeled off his skull, "but I'm behind on my duties as it is, and I don't know when I'll have time. Shall I announce you, Count Mott?" In her mind his eyes boiled and burst, sizzling down his face. Founder, he made a gorgeous flaming corpse. It almost made her wish she were a fire mage.

"You do that."

She knocked twice on the door to Osmond's office and opened it. "Headmaster? Count Mott is here to see you."

"Him? What the devil does he–I mean, send him in, Miss Longueville." More softly, Osmond said, "It looks like we're done here, Colbert. Keep your eyes open in case anything develops, but I wouldn't hold your breath."

Mott walked in, Colbert walked out, and the door closed itself. "Count Mott, welcome," Matilda heard Osmond say. "Always a pleasure. What can I do for you?"

"You can have one of your prettiest maids transferred to my estate." He laughed, and Osmond chuckled with him. "But seriously, what do you know about Fouquet?"

Matilda's breath caught in her throat. It always gave her a thrill when she heard people talking about her. No one knew Matilda and they overlooked Miss Longueville, but Fouquet made them nervous.

"He's a thief," Osmond replied. "Uses magic. Probably in it for the infamy." That wasn't untrue, but there was more to her heists than that.

"The throne is concerned that he might come after the Sword of Destruction."

How? The throne was right, of course. The king was dead,Tristainians were suspicious of widowed queens who inherited absolute power, and the princess was too inexperienced to do much besides look pretty, so the throne in this case was Cardinal Mazarin. If that sharp old bird already knew what she was after, then she'd have to work quickly or run.

"And they want to make sure that it is secure," Mott finished.

"It is."

Mott waited for a moment. "Go on."

"It just is. The Sword is locked within the treasury with the rest of our artifacts."

"And the treasury is impregnable?"

"Like a mule."

"No weaknesses?"

Come on, Founder, give me something! She wasn't asking for the magic password, just a clue, a hint–

"Nope."

Dang it! Brimir hated her. There was really no other answer.

"Alright then." Matilda heard papers being rustled. "Then I'll need you to sign here signifying that the Sword is safe, initial here, and here, and transfer one of your maids to my estate, and sign once more at the bottom."

"Sorry, what was the third one?"

Laughter. "What, you thought I was joking earlier? No. Consider it a token to help our relationship progress smoothly."

Mott was a pig; there was no way around it. Osmond was a dirty old man, but he was harmless. Mott knew exactly what he couldn't get away with, and he did everything else. It almost made her want to pay him a visit.

Osmond sighed. "Fine, fine. Which one do you want this time?"

"Osmond, my old, old friend, you should know me well enough by now. I am a man of very specific tastes, and I require a certain ascetic from my household–"

"A huge rack?"

"Exactly."

"Would you be interested in a troll as well?"

"No. Wait, why?"

WWW

Lift lugged a basket of laundry down the the kitchens, ready to eat. For some reason–Lift suspected utter madness–Louise wore her clothes once and wanted them washed. Who did that? Well, rich folk. And crazy folk. But too much money made you loony.

Marteau greeted her, strangely subdued. Usually he was all stars and kisses, talking real fancy and inventing new titles for her, but today all he said was, "Hey, Lift. Let me get you some stew."

Storms, she must be wearing out her welcome. She'd need to find another nob to beat up, or no more free food. The stew was good when she started to eat it, but it seemed to be missing something. Atmosphere? Usually only rich folk made a big deal about eating someplace full of paintings and statues, but Lift found that food always tasted better when your friends were happy.

And now, they looked like they was at a funeral. Marteau's shoulders drooped and the shine in his eyes was gone, Marcus the assistant cook was clenching his fists and muttering to himself, and Siesta … hold on, where was Siesta? Lift glanced at the laundry basket that Siesta always took care of. It hadn't moved.

"Where's Siesta?"

Marteau flinched. "You … you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Siesta … she's gone."

Lift felt a chill. "She's dead? When did that happen?" If it wasn't too long, she might still be able to help like she had with Gawx.

"No! No, no, she's not dead. Just gone. She's been transferred. A nearby nobleman just purchased her contract."

"Ah, that's too bad." She poked at her stew with her spoon. "Where's she working now? Might wanna visit her later."

Marteau shot an awkward look at the other cooks. "Um, it's not exactly like that. See, Count Mott–that's the nobleman who purchased her–he picked her specifically."

"Okay."

"And, and you know what that means, right?"

"Sure. It means …." She glanced down at Wyndle, who didn't say nothing. "Er, what again?"

"Oh, Founder. It means …." He turned around to the other cooks. "Would anyone else care to explain this?" They shook their heads. "It means that he wanted her as his–his mistress."

Lift blinked. "He wants her to be his boss?" Well, nobles were a strange lot, no two ways around it. But still, Siesta? She tried to imagine her bossing someone around. It involved her holding a whip and apologizing profusely.

"No, it's not that kind of mistress." Marteau's blockish face had turned pink. "It's the other kind, the kind that has–that sleeps with him."

Lift's jaw dropped. "And she agreed to that?"

"No! Do you think she had a choice?" She had never seen Marteau lose his temper. It was like a flash of lightning, and it ended as quickly as it came. "Sorry. It's not your fault, I shouldn't yell at you. I don't know how things work where you're from, but in Tristain, nobles aren't the sort of people you can say no to."

She didn't have a choice. "So she's a slave." Marteau flinched at that. No one seemed to like that word, but they were all fine living it. But if Siesta was a slave, then picking her up and running off with her wouldn't be kidnapping. It'd be stealin'.

Lift set her bowl down and stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "Glad you told me this, Marteau. Now cool your grills, grab your things, and gather your friends, 'cause us'n ours are goin' on a heist."

Marteau blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Siesa don't wanna be there, and we don't want her there, so we're gonna pay a visit to this Cott Mount and leave 'im Siestaless."

"What? No. No, no, no. We can't just grab our torches and pitchforks and form an angry mob in front of his estate and demand her back! I told you, nobles aren't the sort of people you can say no to."

"I did."

"This isn't like your duel! The boy you fought challenged you, he bound himself to certain rules. Count Mott has guards and magic! He has the law on his side! There's nothing we can do!"

Lift's face darkened. "So you're just gonna abandon her?"

"There's nothing we can do," he repeated weakly.

Of course. Of course he was going to abandon her. That's what everyone did. Don't look out for no one but yourself, 'cause ain't no one's gonna look out for you.

"Okay then. I'll just have'ta do this myself."

"What? No, kid, you can't! That's suicide! Suicide if you're lucky!"

Lift grinned. "Sounds challenging." She hadn't been on a decent heist since she robbed the Bronze Palace, and even that had been a piece of cake until Darkness showed up.

"I'm serious, Lift! Promise me–promise me that you won't do anything stupid."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I promise you won't do anything stupid."

Marteau gave her a flat look. "I'm not joking."

"Alright," she said, all lightness gone from her voice. "I swear, by the tenth name of the Almighty himself, that I ain't gonna do nothin' stupid." And she meant it. Her friend was in trouble and needed her help, and Lift couldn't think of nothing stupider than abandoning her.

She strode out of the room with her bowl of stew still half full. Then she realized what she had done, came back, and finished it off. She was gonna need it tonight.

WWW

Cott Mount's manor, or whatever his name was, was easy to find. "Just head east down the main road for an hour," Guiche had told her. "You can't miss it." His voice had jumped up an octave when he spoke to her, but she didn't ask why.

Breaking in was even easier. There were guards patrolling everywhere, and they even had this kind of axehound that was cute and fluffy with fur instead of a carapace. The animals had wings, too, but there wasn't nothing that could see in the dark and it was already night by the time she got there.

The guards inside the big house were a different sort entirely. While the ones on the outside were watchin' and listenin' for everything, the indoor guards were blind, deaf, and dumb, as though they was practicing telling the magistrate that they ain't seen their boss do nothin'. That meant they didn't see Lift pass through, neither.

Finding Siesta was the hardest part. Lift wandered around, listened to folks talking, stopped by the kitchens, ate Cott Mount's dinner, and didn't find nothing. In the end it was Wyndle who slithered off on his own and came back telling her where her friend was. Lift had to sneak around everywhere, but Wyndle was a Voidbringer, so only the pure in heart could see him, and that meant no one in the manor.

When Lift finally found Siesta, she was sitting in a tub big enough for a small neighborhood, though putting a neighborhood in a tub at once was a bad idea. There were always folks with too much to hide and others with not enough to show. Siesta, from what Lift could see, was definitely part of the first group.

"So this big important bloke drags you all the way from the Academy to be his dirty girl," Lift said, "and the first thing he does is makes you take a bath. That's just plain insulting."

Siesta sank into the water and turned around, her eyes as big as cookies. "Lift? Is that–what are you doing here?"

Lift had never been one for baths and a rag and bucket had always been good enough for what she needed, but she sat down on the edge of the tub anyway and soaked her feet in the hot water. How'd they heat the water here? Magic, probably. "A heist," she answered. "You almost done?"

"But, but, how did you get here?"

"Walked."

"How'd you get in?"

"Window."

"Why?"

"Already told you. I'm doing a heist."

"What?"

Storms, she was slow. Baths did that to you. Boiled your brains out, they did. That's why Lift never had no part with them. "I'm stealing you. Might wanna get dressed first. Elsewise folks might stare and you'll catch cold."

Siesta blinked and her mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "Are you … you're here to rescue me?"

"Sure, if you wanna call it that."

She groaned. "Thank you, Lift, really, this means a lot to me, but you shouldn't have come here. Even if you could get me out, I can't leave."

"You can't? Why not?"

"Count Mott, he has my contract. You know how contracts work, right?"

Lift showed her the back of her left hand. "Does it involve a weird mark on your hand?"

"No, no, it's not a familiar contract. It's a promise that I'll work for a certain amount of time for a certain wage. I sold my contract to the Academy because it seemed safe, but then the Headmaster sold it to Count Mott."

"So, if you leave you don't get paid?"

"Yes, but there's more. It also has my contact information, my next of kin, and my description. Leaving before it expires is considered fraud, and the contract holder, in this case Mott, has the legal right to demand compensation from my family, so if I leave, not only will I be an outlaw, but one of the members of my family could end up forced to work for Mott in my stead."

"Oh." Lift splashed the bathwater with her feet thoughtfully. She didn't understand a lot of what Siesta said, but she got the gist of it. "So basically, he has your soul."

Siesta frowned. "I guess you could call it that."

Lift grinned. "Then we'll just have'ta steal it back. Lucky for you, a friend of mine is always tryin' to get me into that sort of thing."

"I do no such thing!" Wyndle protested.

Where to begin? She realized that stealing dinners was easy; she just had to follow her nose, but she had no idea what souls smelled like. She could ask Wyndle, but the Voidbringer would probably just lie to her.

"No." Siesta reached over and took her hand. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Lift, really, but it's too dangerous. If the guards see you wandering around–"

"Then I'll run away."

"And if they catch you?"

"They won't. I'm a master thief, remember?" She knew she had mentioned that a few times, but the general response so far was something like, "That's adorable. Have some more pie," which was a bit patronizing, but there was pie involved. "I grew up in the City of Shadows, and I escaped Darkness himself. This Cott Mount bloke ain't got nothin' I can't handle. But if you're afraid of getting caught, you can stay here. I'll manage."

Siesta grimaced and bit her lip, then she finally said, "I know I'm going to regret this, but I can't let you go alone. Just give me a moment to get dressed and I'll come with you." She stood up and grabbed a towel. "Besides, I might have an idea of where my contract is."

A few minutes later, they were wandering through the mansion, looking for souls. Or at least Siesta was. She seemed to think that Cott Mount kept his souls in a place called an "office," so Lift just followed her until they saw someone coming around the next corner.

"Hide!" Siesta hissed, and Lift was already looking for a hiding spot. The hall was full of pillars and sculptures, but they had stopped in a particularly barren part of it, so Lift dove under the first thing she could think of, which was Siesta's dress. It was red instead of the black one she wore at the academy, but it went down to her feet and was poofy enough to hide a master thief. "Not there," Siesta whispered, but it was too late.

Siesta stood as still as a statue as Lift heard a set of footsteps come closer. "Ah, Siesta," she heard a man say. "You're ready. How fortuitous."

Fortuitous? Who the storms talked like that? Lift didn't know who he was, but he sounded like an eel.

"Um, not yet, your lordship. I still need to, um, take care of something."

"Please, girl, there's no need to be coy. I've been looking forward to tonight ever since I first laid eyes on you, and I simply cannot wait any longer to find out what you have under your dress."

Lift gasped. He knew! How did he know she was there? Was she breathing too hard? Whatever it was, she couldn't keep hiding. She would have run if she were alone, but she couldn't leave Siesta to get in trouble, so there was only one thing left to do.

She became Awesome.

A storm erupted in her veins, flooding her with ice and lightning. She jumped out from under Siesta and punched the eel-man in the jaw. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and knocked him out cold.

Siesta gasped. "What was that? Lift, you just attacked a nobleman!"

Was that what he was? Good. Marteau always gave her extra food when she did that. "After he found out where I was hiding, I didn't have no choice!" It was funny, though. In all her heists, this was the first time she had hit someone. She always said that thievin' shouldn't leave bodies, and now she had a big one on the floor. He was still breathing, but he looked mighty conspicuous all the same.

"He didn't know anything! He was just … oh, Founder, I feel faint."

"You do? Siesta, no! You ain't got time for faintin'! We gotta get your soul back! How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two. But you look like you're glowing."

Huh. That happened sometimes when she became Awesome. "Okay, why don't you sit down, and I'll get rid of the body."

She grabbed the man by the ankle and shoved her Awesomeness into him, making him Slick. She pulled him along as easily as if he were sliding on ice, and shoved him down a flight of stairs.

Siesta looked up, the dazed expression vanishing form her face. "Lift! Are you trying to kill him?"

"I had to put his body somewhere."

"At the bottom of the stairs?"

"Anyone who sees him will think he tripped." And he was probably still alive. Lift had fallen down loads of stairs, and she was fine. The secret was in knowing how to roll. "Are you done feelin' faint?"

"No. Not at all. But you're right, we don't have time." She stood up unsteadily. "Count Mott's study is right here." She opened up a door and Lift followed her inside, and the two of them began looking for souls.

The study had a desk, two bookcases, windows, and a balcony. Lift didn't know where to begin, but Siesta went first to the desk drawers. "It's locked," she said, trying to pull one open. "Lift, see if you can find a spare key lying around."

"Key?" Lift laughed. "Siesta, have you been deaf when I was telling you about me being a master thief? Step back, and let the master do her thievin'."

She pulled out a rockvine seed from her pocket. Rockvines didn't grow around these parts. Here, all the plants were soft and flimsy 'cause they didn't have no Highstorms to stand against. Wyndle had warned her against using plants from her home on account of them being able to cause "untold ecological devastation," but that sounded like Voidbringer nonsense. She stuck the seed into the lock, and became Awesome.

When she became Awesome, she could either keep the Awesomeness and become faster and stronger until she ran out, or she could use it. When she used the Awesomeness, she could either make stuff Slick, which was incredibly fun, or she could make stuff Grow. With the seed in the lock, she made it Grow until it pushed the tumblers into place, letting her open the drawer.

"How did you do that?" Siesta asked.

"I was Awesome."

"But … nevermind. Also, are you sure you're not glowing? Because it really looks like you are."

"I ain't. You're just excited 'cause we're about to get your soul back."

"Right, right." She pulled a stack of papers out of the drawer. "My contract should be in here somewhere. Can you read?"

Lift laughed. "Wait, are you serious?"

Siesta sighed. "I'll just go through these by myself." She started flipping through papers. She was going pretty fast, but there were a lot of them, so Lift started looking around.

If I had a bookcase, she thought, looking at the one in the room, it would open up a secret passageway if I took out a book, like this! She pulled out a book, but nothing happened. Well, that was disappointing. She tossed the book over her shoulder.

Okay, but what if I turn this torch sconce? The sconce didn't turn. Lift frowned. What was the point of being rich if you didn't have no secret passageways?

There was an ugly painting on the wall. The Cott fellow probably just had bad tastes, but just to be sure, Lift pulled it aside, and found a secret compartment in the wall. It wasn't a passageway, but it had a strongbox, and that was better than nothing. Strongboxes were big heavy boxes made of metal with locks that were nearly impossible to pick. At least, that's what folks told Lift, but she never had no problem with them.

She stuck a seed in the lock, made it Grow, and popped it open. Being Awesome made her hungry, so she hoped there was something good inside, but instead there was just a bunch of dun spheres and gemhearts. Of course they'd be dun. Most spheres went dun after a week without a Highstorm to recharge them, so around here all the spheres would be dun. Well, not Lift's lucky diamond mark. It never ran out of Stormlight. 'Cause it was lucky.

"I found it!" Siesta said, waving a bit of parchment in the air triumphantly.

"You did?" Lift pulled out a handful of Gemhearts from the box. "I was gonna ask you if any of these looked like your soul, but okay, we can go now!"

Siesta gasped. "What is that?"

Lift shrugged. "A ruby, some sapphires, mostly diamonds."

"Count Mott had all that money in his wall?"

"This is money? You said that gold was money!" Currency. Starvin' confusing, it was. That's why Lift always stuck to food. She put it back.

"Good idea," Siesta said. "We've broken enough rules already."

Lift stopped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that we don't need to get into anymore trouble."

Lift frowned and picked up the strange money. "We can always get into more trouble. Here, take it."

"I can't take that!" she said, but the look on her face suggested that she wanted to try anyway. "Anyone who sees me with that much money will think I stole it!"

"But you didn't. I did. And I'm givin' it to you."

Siesta bit her lip and hesitantly took the money as though worried it might bite her. "I guess … I guess if I'm going to start over, it wouldn't hurt."

And that's when the ceiling collapsed. The wall went with it, giving them a perfect view of a cloaked, green-haired lady standing on top of a mountain with arms. Lift ain't never saw a mountain with arms before, but she figured that sort of thing happened all the time around here, so it was probably nothing to–

Siesta screamed and threw a handful of gemhearts at the woman, just like a noblewoman would have done, then grabbed Lift by the hand and ran out the door, clutching a stack of papers.

"What was that?" Lift made her feet Slick and slid along merrily behind her.

"A golem. A big one."

"Like Guiche's booby knights?"

"Bigger! And not something we can deal with right now."

"I dunno. That lady on its head seemed more surprised to see us than we did to see her."

Siesta didn't answer and focused on running. The entire estate had erupted into a state of panic with some guards running towards where the golem had smashed through the wall and many, many more trying to find something to do on the other side of the manor. Siesta reached the stairs that Lift and rolled Cott Mount down, and he was still there, sleeping peacefully at the bottom, surrounded by maids.

"Oh dear, it seems the master of the house fell down the stairs," one of the maids said.

"Tragic," said another.

"He may require a healer before he can walk again."

"Dreadful."

"And it sounds like we are being invaded, or at least robbed."

"Truly this is a terrible night."

"Do you think, Maria, that this could be the work of the thief Fouquet?"

"It could be, Magdala. It could very well be."

"I have heard it said that when Fouquet chooses his target, he always steals what his victim values most."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. I wonder what Count Mott values most?"

For a moment neither spoke. Then, "Shall I fetch the scissors, Magdala?"

"Please, Maria."

The maid Maria started to leave when she saw Siesta, and she gave Lift barely a glance. She was an older sort, with wrinkles on her face and her hair streaked with grey. "Ah, new girl. What was your name again? And do you have any scissors?"

"Sorry, I don't have any scissors, and I'm not going to give you my name either because I may have just broken the law."

"How distressing."

"Though I may have something for you. I, um, reclaimed my contract, and I think yours might be in here, too." Siesta rummaged through her stack of papers, and then pulled one out and gave the rest to Maria. "I only need this one, really. I'm sure yours is in there somewhere if you want it."

"Why thank you, dear, you are most generous. I'd tell you that we'll never forget you, but sadly, I fear you have already been forgotten."

Siesta smiled. "I appreciate that, Maria. It means a lot to me."

She led Lift out the front door, and with so many of the guards intent on ignoring everything or panicking, no one stopped them.

"I don't believe it," Siesta said. "We made it. We made it!" She laughed and gave Lift a hug.

Lift grinned and shrugged. "What did you expect? I did tell you I was a master thief. Come on. Let's go home." She started walking back towards the Academy, but Siesta didn't follow her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't work there anymore. The Academy sold my contract to Count Mott, and if I go back, then they'll just send me back here."

"But … that ain't right!" Lift had stolen her, stolen her like dinner.

Siesta smiled sadly. "That's the world we live in. You may have saved me tonight, but you can't change the world."

"Says who?"

She cocked her head at that. "Well, maybe you will, someday. But not tonight."

"So where will you go?"

Siesta looked down the road the opposite direction from the Academy. "I don't know. My uncle owns an inn in the city, and I could work there for a time. Or I could go back to Tarbes and work on the farm again. It won't need another set of hands until harvest time, but my family will make room." She smiled again. "Or maybe I'll meet a knight in shining armor, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Who knows?"

"So … so I ain't gonna see you again, am I?"

"Well, you don't know that."

"If you don't know where you're going, I ain't gonna know where to find you."

Siesta frowned, but only for a moment. "I'll tell you what. You stay at the Academy so I'll know where you are, and when I decide where I'm staying, I'll send you a letter."

Lift's face brightened. "Yeah!"

"But wait, you don't know how to read, do you?"

She shrugged. "I can learn it." Reading couldn't be that hard, and Lift was starvin' clever. And if that didn't work, she could always get Louise to read it for her.

Siesta gave her a smile, a real one this time. Folks ought to smile when they had their souls back. "Then we'll keep in touch."

WWW

There was always an awkward moment when two thieves met each other robbing the same place, and professional courtesy only took one so far in Matilda's line of work. Sometimes the two thieves worked together, and sometimes they tried to trip the other up until they were both caught, but usually the weaker one bowed to the thief with overwhelming power, which was what had happened tonight.

As soon as Matilda's golem had smashed through the manor wall, the two thieves who were already there dropped their pickings and fled, which saved her a fair bit of time finding where Mott had stashed his cache. Still, if she had known that the count was going to end up robbed anyway, she would have gone after some other nobleman. And that's why Tristain needs a Thieves Guild.

Of course, there probably was one already, and she just didn't know about it. She hadn't been in Tristain long enough to become familiar with its underground.

As she returned to the Academy, her mind kept drifting back to the pair of thieves she had encountered. As a triangle-class earth mage, she could rob people that no one else could, but it felt so easy it was almost like cheating. Those two, she suspected, were commoners. The one wearing a maid uniform had probably gone ahead to infiltrate the estate and gather information for the heist, or maybe she was already working there and found an opportunity for a pay raise. And the other one was there to … do what exactly?

Well, commoners had to solve their problems differently than mages, and the common thief was probably as incomprehensible to her as a musketeer was to a mage knight. Still, was something about that girl, barely more than a child, with her round face, tan skin, black hair, and exceptionally white teeth that Matilda couldn't put out of her mind, almost like she had seen her before, but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

In any case, she had a bag full of valuables that she could send back home, and she had her next heist to focus on. Even if she had seen that girl before, she'd probably never see her again.

WWW

A/n As usual, thank you Magery and Stone Mason for editing this chapter, and thank you readers for reading it and thank you reviewers for reviewing it. The previous chapter was focused mostly on Louise, so I wanted this chapter to be mostly focused on Siesta, and next chapter is … going to be written. Eventually.

Before you ask, I had Matilda smash into Mott's house for no reason other than I wanted her to. There are a lot of fanfics out there where everyone acts exactly the same as in canon to the point of repeating conversations verbatim unless the familiar directly intervenes, and I respect that. Watching the butterfly effect emanate from the protagonist throughout the entire world can create an interesting puzzle and it's fun to see all the unpredicted consequences manifest themselves, but I don't work that way. It requires too much rehashing of canon until the butterflies flap their wings, and when I read fanfic rehashment stories, I lose interest. I plan on keeping the characters as much in character as reasonable, but they're going to make original choices just because they can.

Again, thank you so much for the reviews that you've left, you're the reason I keep on writing. I'll see you in chapter four.