The Veil - Chapter 18 Part 2

Stiffening, Obi glanced around as surreptitiously as he could, talking to Mr. Fughi the entire time in a light easy manner, his gait loosening almost as naturally as it had tightened. “Try living on the wild side once and a while, my dear man. Too much caution wastes a man’s life.” With emotion he decided not to identify- though it was definitely between amusement and horror- he realized he was channeling Lekan as he elbowed Mr. Fughi in the side.

The man seemed caught between confusion and offense. “Sir, if I may express my opinion,” he said quietly and patiently enough that Obi feared for a moment that Mr. Fughi didn’t understand, “The task you are setting out to complete is foolhardy.”

Obi gave his butler a sincere grin. Obi had first met Mr. Fughi in the far east, and their relationship had been beneficial ever since. The man was sharp. “And profitable!” He shook the bag of coins in Mr. Fughi’s face obnoxiously. “More than that old weasel back there sees in a year. Thirty times what’s in this purse! If it is foolhardy, it’s why I’m the one in charge, and you’re the one making sure everyone does what we say. Thanks for nothing back there, by the way.” He threw the purse out in the air and reached up to grab it, only for it to be snatched from the air by Mr. Fughi.

“Do you want us to get robbed?” he hissed, far more tense than Obi had ever seen him which could be saying something. “And,” he added as if it were an afterthought as he tucked the purse into a pocket in his jacket, “I would have been able to help if you hadn’t approached Mr. Condrieve so outrageously. You never show a conman your true intentions until you’re sure you’ve got him firmly in your pocket.”

Obi practically winced, hearing the truth hidden in Mr. Fughi’s words.

“I doubt we’ll be able to find anyone now,” he ended with a grumble.

Obi shrugged carelessly. “There are desperate people all over this town. One of them will be willing to take all of that money I tried to offer Mr. Condrieve to-” Obi cut himself off just as Mr. Fughi shot him a look. Really, it was a miracle the tail hadn’t given up. In Obi’s experience with the rougher persons in the area, there was no such thing as honor among thieves. Obviously, the odious Mr. Condrieve found better employees than he deserved. He smiled when he saw the flicker of a tunic behind the building in front of them.

Mr. Fughi had apparently seen it as well because he scoffed. “You lucky bastard,” he murmured softly enough that only Obi could hear.

Obi just smiled as they passed the tunic wearer and yelped- loudly enough to make Mr. Fughi roll his eyes- as he was dragged to the side, a dagger pressed against his throat. “See? Desperate people are all over this town.” He cleared his throat as the dagger was pressed a little farther.

“You two talk pretty loud for criminals.” The voice was rough and a little high pitched compared to Obi’s expectations. The arm around him was rather small but firm and muscled. The dagger didn’t shake a bit.

Obi shied away from the thought of trusting a woman with a mission as important as this. He liked to think of himself as a progressive thinker, but it was easier to call himself one than be one.

Mr. Fughi’s impassive face told him nothing about the woman though he didn’t seem very impressed. To make it seem like they were actually taken by surprise, Mr. Fughi had a small stick pulled out. Obi would have been worried since sticks at knife fights don’t normally win, but in his experience, Mr. Fughi always made the right decision.

“Does this mean you’re interested?” Obi asked, his voice overly cheery. Perhaps he would have to settle for a woman, and perhaps Mr. Fughi wasn’t confident in her skills, but his butler was correct in one thing: Obi was a lucky bastard.

In Obi’s experience, luck rarely came in pairs.

“Might be.”

Her accent was strange. Obi wished he could see her face because he doubted she was a Nidite, and she didn’t sound like someone from the far east, not to mention there was rarely anyone from the far east that came this far. Qui’in was one of the few he was aware of.

Mr. Fughi raised an eyebrow slowly. Obi wondered at his position. The way he was holding his stick didn’t seem like it would be very effective if the woman decided to cut his throat.

“Perhaps if you let me go, we can discuss this in a more civilized manner.”

“Promise me the job.” Her voice was stubborn. Obi doubted he would be able to discuss anything with her. He asked for desperate, and desperate is what he got.

“You don’t know what it is.” Despite the fact that he was fairly sure he had this situation well in hand, a trickle of panic started to worm its way down his spine, making his muscles stiffen. He did not like being kept at knife point.

Mr. Fughi blinked, his eyes shifting from the woman’s eyes to Obi’s for a split second. The question was clear: Testing you luck again?

“Tell your man to put the weapon away, and I’ll think about letting you go.” Obi reconsidered his opinion of a woman for the job. Her voice and hand were both steady. A less experienced criminal would have given away her nerves or excitement.

“You heard her.” Obi made his voice a little hoarse and fidgeted a little until her grip tightened. She said nothing though, letting her movement serve as warning enough.