"I love the way rubies catch the light!" Lake Miller held up the tear-shaped earrings, rimmed with gold, and only wished she had managed to find a proper mirror in that mess of a treasury. But one could only demand so much from a victim before inproprietiy and sheer stupidity rang. "We haven't found rubies for ages."

A sigh came from the front of the cart. "You look terrible in rubies."

"Shows how little taste you have." Lake set one earring in her lap and began to thread the hook of the other through her earlobe, ignoring how her father across from her turned away in disgust. He had been most displeased when she had returned from that Gypsy camp with baubles dangling at the side of her face. Looked like a regular street girl, desperate for business. She didn't care. She liked the jewelry, and she liked these rubies.

Her father sighed again and spent a moment staring blankly down the road. Little there, just an ignored highway littered between the farms from the last kingdom to the next... wherever. The cave would be the next stop. That had been something, robbing a real king. For the last little while it had been nothing but dukes and nobles; they admittedly had their property glistening with arrogance, but the fact remained it was usually the monarchy that stashed the most good. Nobles might spend, but kings hoarded, and it was something William Miller was teaching his children well. Kings also had the most guards. This last one had sent them scurrying all over, but who would dare bother simple peasants on a minor business venture? It was a guise that had worked too many times to count, and it wasn't his fault no one thought or expected much of the common folk. Fools. Fools to be thanked. Loveable fools that would never stop them.

That is, until Lake decided to fancy herself.

"Put those away, girl," William muttered. There wasn't a soul around, but he hated to take chances. Lady Fortune may like him, but she was a woman of adventure.

She hooked up the other earring and gave her best pout. "But Papa, don't you think I look pretty?"

"You never look pretty." Words from the front of the car accompanied by a laugh.

Lake tore off the earrings, popped them under the canvas, and launched herself over the seat to the driver's spot. "How about I ram them down your throat, Jay?"

"Because you didn't bring them." The young man laughed as he suffered his sister's blows, back curled over like a turtle seeking shelter. The mule swung to the right, and William had to fight for his balance. "Lake! Off Jaybird!"

"But Papa–" The whine came only once. With a smile showing that nothing had gone wrong she hopped back to her seat. "You should allow us a little fun, Papa."

"Wearing the King's jewels and creating a murder scene large enough to attract every guard in the vicinity?" William raised a thick eyebrow. He was approaching his sixtieth year, but rather his face had taken on a stony brook texture, overly chiseled rather than lined. Handsome, women still called him. At least he still had his hair, thick and black as a bear's coat. Bluejaybird had managed to inherit that, though no doubt the boy would always be handsome regardless.

His mother's folk were like that.

Lake turned her attention to the road as well. Not a single cart around. Hardly a sign of civilization–other than the blatant farms and smoke spiraling up from someplace several miles in the distance. They still had time. "Papa, that was yesterday morning. We're long gone."

"Don't be too sure, pet. Remember the time Jaybird was arrested?"

"That was fun," Jay commented after cursing at the mule. "Listening to the guards go on and on and on about what a horrible, hell-and-gallows-bound soul I was and nothing much beyond that. It truly brought tears to my eyes. I was a changed man after that."

Lake and William stared at him.

"Till the next heist, of course," said Lake. She grabbed a strand of red hair and began to braid.

"Of course," replied Jay. "But oh, did I feel some stirrings in my spirit that night! Though I highly doubt God was too concerned with all of that."

"Idiot," Lake murmured.

"Yes, idiot indeed," William continued. "To have been caught, to put your darling little sister in danger–"

Lake tried to look as darling as possible. A simple task.

"–and to frighten those poor guards the next morning when I was no longer there!" Jay finished.

"Jaybird–"

"One moment, Papa. I believe we have seen our first sight of humanity."

"I saw the village first," said Lake in disgust. "Roads back. Plenty of smoke. Catch the entire hellhole on fire."

Past the bend the road were four young peasant girls leading a herd of goats into a pasture. Common in these parts, for girls to spend up to a week at a time living in the pastures beyond a village. Lake shook her head. Pathetic. No doubt they'd expect to invite Jay to their hut nearby. She had grown up with village girls, she knew how they were. They turned at the sound of the approaching cart, spotted Jay, and let their barely-sewn necklines fall with the proper shrug of the shoulders.

Jay and William tipped their hats.

"Hello, ladies," Jay said. With a barely noticeable twist of his hand, he slowed the mule to a stop.

They all giggled, Lake noticed. Not just one or two or even three. All of them. Lake felt sick. Even her father looked sick. Jay could be so ridiculous. Though clearly not as ridiculous as these girls.

Well, she honestly couldn't blame them, if she put her mind to it. She herself had simpered for a good-looking boy before, and she could also admit that her brother was as good-looking as they came. Maybe not the most dashing and beautiful thing around, but quite handsome. Ridiculously tall, well-muscled from a life, browned from the outdoors. Black hair and those pale brown, almost golden, eyes. It was usually those eyes that hooked the girls. And Jay, unfortunately, knew it.

Good thing he became horrendously shy if it went beyond harmless flirting.

"You are all such hard workers," Jay said, pretending to examining the goats even though everyone one knew he was doing no such thing. "Your fathers must be so proud."

William nodded. "Dutiful daughters, indeed."

They even blushed when her father spoke. Lake returned to fiddling with her hair. These girls couldn't be any older than fourteen or fifteen. And Jay was what? Twenty-five years now? Yes, pathetic indeed. Oh, well.

One, the shortest of the bunch, stepped forward with a provocative curtsey. "We try, good sir. We try. We care for these goats so much."

Jay gave a gentle laugh. "Well, then. Perhaps I should see... these goats." He hopped from the cart, much to the clear delight of the goat girls.

"Oh, brother," Lake whispered. Though she couldn't help but be rather amused. Jay was up to something. Though what these children had to offer, she didn't know.

Too bad there weren't some boys around. She had her own charms.

William silenced her with a finger to his lips, but the girls had already spotted her.

"Don't worry, girls, I'm his sister," Lake said dryly. "Irma."

The girls couldn't have cared less what her name was. "Your name, good sir?" said the short one.

Jay bowed low. "Thomas, my lady. Thomas Blue." A wonderful use of the first part of his name.

They all giggled again. Jay had such a way with them.

"Now, of course, I insist you tell me your names."

"Acreida," replied the short one. The others introduced themselves as Martina, Elatine, and Catherine. Not that Lake cared.

Jay sighed as if poetry had just been recited and kissed Acreida on the hand. "Lovely names, each one lovelier than the last. And to reward them..." He pretended to search his pockets while the girls silently fought over who was "last." "I have a gift."

In his hands were several small lumps of gold.

Four pairs of eyes lit up like torches.

Jay slid his arm around Elatine's waist; she nearly fainted from delight. "I want you all to have a piece." He pressed one lump into Elatine's hand, and her companions fought for the rest.

It was only with great care and many kisses blown that Jay was able to return to the cart and drive on, leaving a dizzy bevy of girls watching (and still giggling) after him.

William shook his head, unable to keep a laugh back. "Won't they be surprised soon?"

"An hour, Papa," said Jay. "That's all that gold will last. But this..." He pulled out a small leather bag and jingled it. "It's enough to buy a few rounds of ale at a tavern."

"You wicked boy. You are no son of mine."

"You taught me, Papa."

Lake stood up and snatched it from him. The rocking of the cart was nothing to her. "You stole it from the village whore Elatine?"

"Acreida, actually."

"I love you, Jay. Though I believe I got us more yesterday."

"But it was just my handsome face that retrieved this."

"And the King didn't think I was pretty?"

No matter, that was the routine, and Lake knew that well enough. William had been sure, for the past nine years, that both Jaybird and Lake knew their roles. Years before that, from the day Jay's tricks connected themselves with Mary's spinning wheel, they had not known what to do.

Mary. Mary would have pretended to disprove of all of this. A honest milling family, that's what they were. 'Course, once taxes had come and the mill shut down... life had to continue, and now they could stop right now and live comfortably to the end of their days, if they were smart about it.

But it was more than that. William craved this, and so did his children. A few steps in the darkness, a few words twisted beyond honesty, a slight of the hand and a trick from Jaybird. It was the journey, it was the dare. An honest life had never been for them. Probably came from their names. Neither of their mothers had been ones for the proper and common. Nature is what they liked. The outdoors. The real earth, the fairy woman who had borne Bluejaybird had called it. Then after she had left and he had met Mary, this new wife had been just as enchanted. Thieves, all of them. It was the way.

So they all knew the routine: He spread the rumor, Lake acted her part, and Jaybird spun the fairy gold.