Maverhov watched the pair impassively as they eased their way into his warehouse office, looking as if they were treading on holy ground. Stepping carefully, as if someone had come before them sprinkling holy water onto the wooden planking. Maverhov hid a smile. It was ridiculous. They all treated him as some demi-god of the under world. He had the sudden impulse to shout that he was just like them. That he would gladly fight for them, with them, beside them.
They were in this together, after all.
But he kept silent. Certain illusions had to be maintained. The ‘thieves’ needed a figurehead. And he had to act like one.
So the girl had bypassed a magical barrier…
To Maverhov, the whole incident reeked of magic. There were two possibilities. Either the wizard had let down his defenses by coincidence or the girl could command the magical elements so she could force a rock through the magician’s field. Useful, in any event, but disturbing. Magic was a plague. Bad blood. Evidence that one’s ancestors had wallowed in filth. Had made unholy pacts with demons and non-humans. Such people required ‘termination’. Weeds need to be pulled, magic needs to be eradicated.
Maverhov shoved the thoughts away, though. He would decide whether or not the girl was a blood traitor. There was always the possibility it was all a misunderstanding.
He eyed the two as they entered.
He knew Barkus already. Unfortunately. The man was pompous, arrogant, proud, and worst of all, ignorant. An ego on legs. The man walked up to his desk with the girl eagerly, grinning smugly. He had been a loyal talent scout, he had. Undoubtably, proper payment would be demanded afterward. Maverhov grunted and lit up a Smoke. Pulling on it deeply as he toyed with a throwing knife strapped firmly to his chest.
The girl he didn’t recognize. He rarely knew the younger ‘thieves’ by face, let alone their names. There were just too many joining, left and right, left and right. The slum dwellers bred like rabbits. Funny how that worked. The poor had the instinct to churn out the kids by the dozen, while wizards and royalty rarely dabbled in child bearing. Only pleasure sex for me, mate. Can’t be bothered by the pattering of little feet, doncha know. And that was the precise reason the wizards were a dying breed. The slum dwellers had power in numbers.
The girl was pleasant, at any rate. Her chestnut hair reached at her shoulders – well groomed and lush – and her green eyes were the size of half-dollars. Round and deep and bright. Her figure was rare. Most slum-women were content with triple chins and bulging hips. The girl however, was thin and lithe looking. Cat-like, almost. Maverhov looked at her approvingly. It would be a pity if she turned out to be a blood traitor.
“Funny thing happened out in the street, boss - ” Barkus began still grinning like a madman as he stepped up to the desk, girl in tow.
“I’ve heard about it already,” Maverhov interrupted, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “You may step back, Barkus. This meeting has nothing to do with you, despite what you may think.” He stared at the man until he took a step backward, smile fading.
“Now,” Maverhov said, turning his gaze to the girl, “Do you have a name?”
“Melody.”
“Melody, then. What I’ve heard is incredible. A rock through a conjured shield. Our good friend Yarask must be quite confused. I know I would be. Shields aren’t broken every day of the week, Melody. So I’ve gotta aske, your parents? Did either of them have magical connections?”
Before the girl could answer, Barkus stepped forward again, “No chance this whore’s got magic,” He snickered, “Known her since a baby, haven’t I? Mel’d sooner – ”
“I don’t like you, Barkus, so shut up.”
“I don’t have magic,” The girl whispered, “I swear. I hate it. I want it gone just as much as anybody.”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Maverhov shrugged. He took a drag on the Smoke, watching Barkus smolder.
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