At the end of his designated week of resting, Garret found himself outside the city, studying the layout of Bannerhill. It was a collection of houses and farms atop a hill. Aligning the road leading up to it, was small ramshackle cottages stacked close together. The further away from the road they were, the poorer they got, to the point where it was made from worn out fabric strapped to rotten poles. A chill rushed through him.
This was the prospect of young Will.
Even if he turned out to be nothing more than a mediocre thief, his chances of making it to adulthood would still be infinitely better under his tutelage then it would be out here.
He pressed himself deeper into the shadows when his breath snagged and coughed wetly into his fist, his right arm firmly wrapped around his torso to stabilize his ribcage. It still hurt like the devil.
As he regained his breath and composure he took in his surrounding even m ore.
The upside about this neighbourhood was it was covered darkness and shadows and cowering people. The downside; they would rat out their mother for a copper.
He supposed he could exploit that fact, but that also meant that more people would be able to identify him and after his encounter with the primal he'd acquired a rather prominent feature in form of his one green eye. An overall bad thing for a thief.
He preferred to be a ghost, seen by none.
He would need to send Erin to ask questions out here. She was presumed dead and not on the Thief-Takers list just yet.
As he snuck further out the road to Bannerhill he realized that the hill itself was ringed by naked fields and meadows. They would stick out like a sore thumb when they approached the farms at the top. Also several big signal fires were burning near the buildings in an obvious attempt to eliminate shadows.
Garrett was a child of the night and the city was his home. His feet and motion was adapted to cobble stone streets and roof tops. He didn't actually know how to react to grovel road and grass and how to handle next to no cover. Also he found himself feeling almost claustrophobic by thinking about the fields being just one possible level and road to take – he was used to working in many more dimensions. He shook himself against the sudden chill that ran through him and retreated back to the city.
Garrett only managed to discard his dirty armour in the corner, out of sight, just as Erin entered his layer.
Erin stopped dead in her track and studied the floor with intent. Garrett watched her from the floor below.
"Have you been out?" she asked in disbelief. Garrett was dumbstruck. How the hell could he have forgotten about wet footprints?
"Yes," he gave and sat down. Erin sighed in defeat.
"What happened to resting?" she asked. Garrett smirked.
"It's not really my style," he said before a coughed wracked through his frame. Erin studied him intently before shaking her head.
"You're pale as a sheet. Then I suppose this is obsolete as well?" she placed the satchel with bread and cheese on the table.
"I don't get much sun light, Lady Lamplight. I'm always pale," he argued and looked at the bread, "- and I have no appetite this morning."
Erin tried not to smile at Garrett's nickname for her, "-you should eat nevertheless. I can already tell that the regular eating habits have helped – you're looking less emaciated than you did a week ago."
Garrett didn't look impressed, "-emaciated?," he repeated, "-I'm hardly emaciated."
Erin sat down opposite him and met his gaze squarely.
"No, now you're just thin," she countered and took in his appearance, with an evaluating mine, "-I think I could take you down."
"And you couldn't a week ago?" Garrett quickly tried to deflect.
"A slight breeze could have taken you down a week ago. Now it's more of a challenge," she looked far too eager to Garrett's taste. He said nothing.
"Wanna try?" she asked mischievously. Garrett took in a deep breath.
"What happened to resting?" he countered. She didn't budge, "-I would really prefer not to," he finally answered. They'd sparred as a part of their exercise regime and as a part of Erin's training. She was strong, but his weight was a definite advantage. With that gone, he didn't know how it would turn out.
The damned cough overpowered him again. It was deep and wet and sent shards of pain through his right side. He grimaced in obvious pain and his hand sought out the healing ribs. Erin was over him within seconds.
"Sit down," he growled between coughs and fought the spasms down slowly. Erin had retreated as if beaten.
"Perhaps another week...," she attempted, but it died halfway through. Garrett shook his head.
"No, I can't leave Basso in the hands of the Thief-Taker any longer now," Garrett solemnly concluded, "-Tomorrow night we plan and the following night we attack."
Dunstan was the closest thing Garrett had to a competitor in the City. They would do pretty much the same jobs and whereas Garrett would go in and out unnoticed, Dunstan left a trail of destruction in his wake, leaving no one in doubt whether or not they'd been robbed. He didn't pick locks, he smashed the chest into pieces or broke down doors and windows. But he would get the job done - Garrett had to give him that at least.
Dunstan was a brute and Garrett considered him an elephant that trashed about in a china boutique. But again, if there were no one around to hear the noises when they fell, Garret supposed that it didn't really technically matter. Maybe that was why Garrett reached out to Dunstan through his network one early evening.
Dunstan let it quickly be known that he was at a shady bar with no name or sign, commonly just called Johnson's.
Garrett liked the bar. It was dim to the point where it was hard to make people out and it had several exits. People kept to themselves and their own business. Any watchmen or Baronsmen would stand out here like a sore thumb.
Garrett located Dunstan on the counter, nursing a pint. Truth be told Dunstan was a hard man to miss; standing over 6 feet, he towered over Garrett and most others as well.
Dunstan looked well, Garrett noted, strong and well nourished. His eyes were bright and alert and skin healthy, which was much more than could be said about the rest of the bar's clientele. Dunstan didn't notice Garrett until he sat down beside him, but Garrett didn't hold that against him or any other man – that was just as it should be.
"Well, if it isn't the Master Thief?" Dunstan chuckled in a pleasant deep voice.
"Dunstan," Garrett acknowledged and nodded once, "-good of you to make yourself available."
"It's not every day you reach out to us mortals," Dunstan replied with a brief smile, "-one must grasp at the opportunity. Also I heard the watch nearly got you some weeks back. We were beginning to fear that you'd been set out of play."
Dunstan cast a cursory glance over Garrett's diminished frame, "-I see now that these worries and tales were not completely exaggerated."
Garrett gave a rare lopsided smile.
"Had a bit of accident," Garrett admitted and shrugged.
"What kind of accident?" Dunstan inquired and took a gulp of his beer, the foam sticking to his full beard. Garrett considered his options for a moment.
"One that required the bone-setter," he gave. Dunstan grimaced as a response and brushed the foam of in his shirt sleeve.
"You didn't limp, so I'm guessing an arm," Dunstan pried further. Without thinking Garrett's hand sought out his damaged ribs. With a sideways glance Dunstan caught the movement and he smirked, "-ribs. That can be a killer."
This was when the bad maid suddenly realized he was there.
"What'ya hav'n?" she croaked in an abused voice. Garrett didn't spare her a glance. He handed her a coin and answered, "-nothing."
She eyes him suspiciously and sarcastically added, "-coming right up," as she turned away. Dunstan chuckled and shook his head lightly.
"Why did you want to see me," Dunstan finally asked and leaned forward on the counter. Garrett took a breath to speak, when a deep wet cough suddenly overtook him. It was a bad fit that lasted longer than it should have, leaving him wheezing at the end of it. His gloved hand was clutching at his chest, desperately trying to stabilize his ribs through the abuse.
"I thought you looked a bit off," Dunstan merely concluded, "-gloom?"
Garrett shook his head and straightened up.
"It's about Basso," Garret began explaining, his voice suddenly not quite as strong, "- he's finding himself in a precarious situation I should like to get him out of."
"Basso," Dunstan was unable to hide his surprise, "-what of that old dog?"
Garrett coughed again, but not as violently as before, "-Thief-taker." Dunstan's eyes darkened considerably.
"Has he been taken again?" he asked. Garrett noted that Dunstan's knuckles turned white around his glass.
"Yes and no. The Thief-Taker was setting a trap for me, when I suddenly went underground," Garret cleared his throat and padded his chest a couple of times, "-when I didn't come for the intended prize, the Thief-Taker found Basso instead and put him under siege, figuring I would come for him as I had done earlier."
"And now you intend to do just that, while scarcely upright and you want my help," Dunstan offered, but his less than impressed tone of voice didn't leave Garrett much hope for his cooperation.
"I'm perfectly able to stay upright," Garrett muttered, but he knew that his performance tonight would not have inspired confidence in his abilities.
"Perhaps. But I suspect not much more than that," Dunstan deemed after casting him another examining glance, "-you've lost a lot of weight and you are not the youngest of us."
Garrett tensed. Dunstan was the nosy type and the only way to keep him talking was to ... well, talk. This was getting a lot more about this health than he'd ever intended.
"I thought the chance to catch the Thief-Taker with his pants down would be enough for you?" Garrett attempted and cleared his throat. He noted that several eyes were resting on him from around the room. They were like sharks smelling blood in the water. There was after all a pretty bounty on his head and his coughing had been a splendid display of weakness. They wouldn't dare an attack while he was in Dunstan's company, but afterwards, he would be in trouble.
"The Thief-Taker is a rabid dog that should be gunned down on the spot," Dunstan spat and then turned to Garrett, "-do not question my disdain for this excuse of a man."
Garrett was unaffected by the rage that burned in the other man's eyes – he considered it an advantage. Dunstan huffed and stared at Garrett's unyielding eyes for a while.
"What do you propose?" Dunstan finally gave and took another swig of his beer. Garrett didn't dare breathing a sigh of relief.
"I need you and your goons to create a distraction, preferably two," Garrett specified with a smirk.
"You need us as cannon fodder?" Dunstan smacked his glass down in disbelief.
"No, I need you to create a distraction while Erin and I go into the lion's nest and get Basso out. If all goes well, the Thief-Taker won't notice us or you. It should be quite the embarrassment," Garrett painted the story a bit to satisfy Dunstan's lust to humiliate the General. Going by the smirk he was sporting, Garrett was succeeding.
"Who knew you had a serpent's tongue?" Dunstan chuckled, "-tell me more."
Garrett told him his extensive plan in a low voice, making sure that they were not overheard. Dunstan nodded and listened intently, only speaking in order to have Garrett specify his points further.
As Garrett concluded his plans, Dunstan finished his beer and nodded.
"Fine plan," he gave, "-when are we supposed to be ready by?"
"Tomorrow," Garrett instantly replied. Dunstan paled and Garrett suspected that he would have choked on his beer had he had more left.
"Tomorrow?" Dunstan repeated.
"Can you do it? Good and trustworthy men?" Garrett asked in all seriousness.
"Sure, it's possible," he concluded in a distracted tone. His mind was already at the tasks ahead. Dunstan was a master planner and an opportunist.
"Payment?" Dunstan asked suddenly.
"Do you have to ask?" Garrett countered in a dangerous tone. To his surprise Dunstan only laughed