[FoxInari]

A thief steals from a Magistrate in the dead of night.

"Hoktoi"
:Fox:
:9-19-07 (original version written):



:NOTES:
- 'Hoktoi' is a word I made up. It has no meaning in any language at all. I don't think it does, anyway. It is pronounced 'hokkoi' (the 't' is silent).

- ‘Cameans’ are an antromorphic wolf species of my creation.

- This story takes place some months after the events in "Maro the Thief" (can i make a link there, and how?)

:NOTES:


It was a cold, snowy evening. Maro trusted the cold to keep potential witnesses indoors and out of his way. He was a thief, a 'Hoktoi' in his native Camen tongue, named so for the distinctive curved daggers carried by such outlaws. A Hoktoi was a dagger whose handle was only a paw's width in length, and the blade curved downward over the knuckles and tapered to a razor sharp point. They were often handcrafted by the thief who wielded them and were, thus, prized possessions.

Maro peered up and down the street. Seeing no potential witnesses - and more importantly, no Guardsmen - he dashed across the street to the comforting shadows of the building on the other side. He had the good fortune to have run right under an open window. With a quick prayer of thanks to Cailen – the god of Thieves – for his luck, he climbed inside. Maro's keen night vision revealed that he was in an antechamber of some kind. There were crates labeled 'dies' and 'inks' and 'parchment'. He was in the minting wing of the building.

While the mint would provide an abundance of untouched (and in Maro's opinion, unowned) coin, Maro's true target was on the top floor: the Magister's Coffers. Treading softly, Maro approached the door and put his ear to it. Hearing no sound, the Camean thief drew a pair of picks from his boot. As he prepared to pick the lock, he realized two things: 1) the door was not locked, and 2) even if it were, he was on the side where the lock was engaged.

Cursing his momentary lapse of focus, he quietly returned the picks to their place and pushed the door open. The hinges, thank Cailen, were well-oiled and made absolutely no sound. Maro seemed to be depending a lot on the god of thieves lately. He tried to clear his head and focus on the take.

Striding casually yet silently through the corridors, a momentary glance at him would make any guard think he belonged in the building. Maro had even stolen the silk robes of an Official of the Coin to further the deception. It wouldn't hold up to any close scrutiny, but Maro didn't plan on allowing any close scrutiny to occur. His casual stride exuded confidence that he belonged and was quiet enough not to draw attention.

His eyes flicked at each door he passed. Though they weren't labeled in any way, Maro had a good instinct for which rooms to explore and which to avoid. As he neared the stairs, Maro heard voices coming up from the stairwell and froze. If there were guards on the way, the door behind him and to the left was the most likely to be empty. If that door was locked, the second most likely was the door directly opposite it.

If that was not an option, Maro had already drawn one of his Hoktoi. After minutes that seemed like hours of intense waiting, Maro determined that the guards were not coming up the stairs. However, he couldn't take the chance that they weren't at the foot of the stairs or patrolling nearby. So he took the door behind him and to the right, which promised to be on the outside wall of the building and, thus, possibly have a window.

It was locked, but Maro took the time to pick the lock. He was extremely proud of his lockpicking abilities, he knew how to pick quickly, quietly, and with nearly any object that came to hand. As the door swung open, Maro grinned. His grin disappeared, however, when the hinges squeaked loudly. Momentarily panicked, the young thief quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, then rushed to the window. It opened quietly, and Maro climbed onto the ledge. It wasn't that far to fall - now - but a few stories up and any mistake Maro made would result in his becoming extremely dead.

Maro wasn't an excellent climber. He was good - he had to be - but he was not phenomenally skilled. He trusted enough in himself to believe that he could make the climb. But still, his nerves were raw enough to have him shaking. He was so scared, he thought he might wet himself if he didn't calm himself soon. A few deep, even breaths later, he figured he was calm enough to continue. A quick prayer to Cailen and any other god that would listen, and Maro was scaling the building.

Without benefit of ropes or any safety cables, Maro had no room for error. If he missed just one pawhold, or lost his grip on one, he would die. While he could use his whole paw at first, in cracks and crevices in the stone, he soon was forced to climb solely by the tips of his fingers and pressure on the smooth wall by his footpaws. 'Difficult' was ridiculously understating the task.

He reached the third floor and stopped to rest on a much-needed ledge. Luckily, in this part of the city, there were few street lanterns to shed light onto the Thief scaling the side of the Magister's building. Only one more floor to go. Unfortunately, the climb from this floor to the next appeared to be entirely smooth stone. Crawling along the ledge, Maro checked every window. There were none unlocked. Maro's only remaining option, if he didn't want to scale to the top floor, was to break a window. Maro drew one of his twin Hoktoi and held the blade up to the moonlight. The keen edge contrasted brightly with the dark metal.

Taking a deep breath, Maro smashed the Hoktoi into the glass of the window that his instincts told him was safest. It made a loud noise, and Maro knew that from this point on, he was on the clock. He had to get his prize and get out in less than three minutes now. Three minutes was the longest Maro had ever timed the Guardsmen reaching the site of a crime, no matter where in the city. Magical alarms and gateways ensured that.

Keeping the weapon drawn, Maro dived into the room. As he rolled and sprang upright, he drew the other knife. Approaching the door, Maro jammed the tip of his left Hoktoi into the crack between the lock and the frame. When he was sure that the knife was firmly lodged, he put his footpaw into the door with great force. The lock broke, and the door sprang open. Picking the weapon up, Maro practically ran through the halls to the stairwell. Hearing no sounds, he ran up the steps, jumping many steps at a time.

The Magister's Coffers were at the end of the stairwell hall. The young thief ran toward the door and put his shoulder into it when he reached it. At this point, he didn't care about secrecy or silence. The door, having been surprisingly unlocked, slammed open with a loud bang. The target of Maro's raid was lying on the desk in the center of the room: a sheaf of papers bearing the Magister's seal. The papers were unimportant; it was the seals that would sell at a high price. Maro sheathed his Hoktoi and snatched them up and quickly rolled them.

Taking a scroll-tube from a pocket in his breeches, he slid the sheaf of papers inside and put the cap on the tube. One and a half minutes remained for him to get out. Casting about for a quick exit, Maro immediately noticed the window. Secreting the scroll-tube away in his sleeve –where an expensive stick-spell held it fast - Maro drew one of his less important throwing knives and tossed it at the window so the hilt would strike the glass. The entire pane shattered, leaving no sharp edges that Maro might cut himself upon as he climbed through. More help from Cailen, though far from unwelcome.

Maro climbed through the window and looked out from the ledge. He was on the top floor, but there was one other way to reach the ground. All buildings in Dógasuiléol had rainspouts that went down the east side of the buildings from the gutter. These were secured by large steel staples that were driven into the very stone. These staples provided an excellent makeshift ladder.

Maro climbed down the rainspout. Despite his eagerness to be away, he made sure to climb stealthily. When he reached the ground, he let out a sigh of relief and dashed away into the night.

As he returned to his den, Maro realized something with a feeling of utmost dread: he had lost his Hoktoi somehow during the climb from the top floor and had left it there. There was no way he could go back for it, but a thief's Hoktoi was as much as his print. For Maro to have forgotten his, it was a grave error.

He had to get it back! But how? The mere notion of walking up to the Guardsmen that would no doubt be surrounding the building by now and asking for his Hoktoi - it was ridiculous. The Guardsmen would know who to look for now. Maro wouldn’t be able to take any jobs for a long while and that would mean the streets again.

Maro remembered thieving on the streets; he’d done it when he was younger. There was a greater chance of getting caught, that was for certain. There was also a considerably lower chance of striking big. Maro clearly remembered starving when he’d worked on the streets.

He had just begun to think he wouldn’t be able to make it this time when there came a knock at his door. Thinking, perhaps irrationally, that it was the Guardsmen coming to take him away, Maro drew his remaining Hoktoi and threw the door open.

Standing in the doorway was a group of people. Not Guardsmen, as he’d expected, but Thieves. At the group’s front was a short, young Camean girl, balancing his Hoktoi expertly on the tip of her finger. “Ye dropped this,” she said, grinning.

The girl was Chiyo, daughter of the Seeress Naláh Corain. She sold her psychic services to the Thieves of Dógasuiléol in the pawsteps of her outlaw father, Hogake the Thief-Lord. She was very well respected by folk on both sides of the law. Maro recognized few of the others.

“How did you...?” Maro began.

“Know? Maro, ye know better than that. I Saw it: Ye lost ye blade and went back for it and were arrested by Guardsmen. Maro, I know what the Guard does to ye if’n they find a Hoktoi in ye’s possession. I’ve experienced it. I just…didn’t want that to happen to ye so...I asked daddy to call in a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Maro asked, suddenly suspicious.

Chiyo shrugged. “He asked Uncle Ganain to have his men patrol the streets and to hamper and gen’rally divert as many Guardsmen as he could. Then, I followed ye to the Magistrate’s Building and waited for ye to lose your Hoktoi.”

“You followed me! How? I know I wasn’t followed - I made sure of it!” Maro exclaimed.

Chiyo rolled her eyes. “I’m a Seeress. We’s haves a few abilities that ye Commons don’t. Don’t worry yeself about it, Maro, it’ll only give ye a headache.”

“Do I owe you now?” Maro asked.

Chiyo seemed to consider it. “Aye,” she said decisively, smiling.

[Gurdit]

Maro trusted to the cold to keep potential...

Normally, you don't trust to something. You either trust in something, or you just trust something. In this case, the "to" should not be there.


In the third paragraph, you have used numbers while making the list of two things that Maro realized. I've not really seen that done before. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it certainly looks quite cleverly done, and it certainly wasn't jarring to my eyes.

...even breaths later, and he figured...

That and there shouldn't be there.

~ ~ ~

Must say, Mr.Fox, this is an outstanding story. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

At first, the stealth was really cool to read. Maro's instinct for knowing which doors were safe was intriguing. His skill as a thief was also very well brought out in his decision to go outside and scale the wall instead of taking the stairwell. However, this leads me to assume that the wall would have had to have been on the shadow side of the building. I think you should mention that because when I read it, I wondered... "ok, so he's outside, scaling the wall... does no one see him at all?"

But the part after the breaking of the window was really good. As the tempo of the story started to rise, I could feel myself moving my head closer to the screen and reading the lines faster. You had me going as fast as Maro!

What I also loved about your writing is the simple style in which you're written. It flows so well and is really fun to read. I see in a lot of stories nowadays how people try too hard to write well, and in the process, it's no longer fun to read their stories; it's a chore. Your story, on the other hand, was fun to read right from the word GO! Your style does, however, have have a marked casualness in it. Sometimes, it sort of drifts into the style of english that one speaks rather than writes.

In this story, you didn't have much scope for characterization or dialogue. However, I really liked the exchange between Maro and Chiyo, especially the dialogues you have written for Chiyo and the way she speaks. Good job done. Keeping all this mind, I am wondering why this was put in Amateur rather than Advanced. I'm going to move it to the Advanced section now.

And finally, one small suggestion I have is that you kept the up-tempo part too short. He simply climbed out of the ladder, landed on his feet and escaped into the night. That was just too short. I think you could describe how he climbed down, what his thoughts were, what he was keenly observing or looking out for, etc etc.

[FoxInari]

I've made them minor edits you've suggested, but I'm not sure how to extend the up-tempo part. Perhaps have Guardsmen or rival Thieves come into the picture? Anyway, I'll think about it, and I'll figure something out.

[katofmystery]

Wow. . . I really enjoyed reading this piece! I really love dialogue in a story and your dialogue pleased me! The way that the "ye" was repeated also told me that you thought about what you were writing and didn't accidentally add a "you". . . .

[Alex]

I enjoyed this piece. I liked the concept of wolfish theives, it just adds to the possibilities of what they can do as opposed to very agile human theives. I can remember picturing this skinny wolfman runnning and jumping around as you described. The only complaint I have is that it seemed to go by too fast at the last. From when he began climbing down to back at his den. Almost seemed like you were trying to get to the dialogue too quickly. Cant wait to read the next installment.

[RENA HANDS]

Do you mean…dyes and inks?

What about…his true target was on the top floor: (To reduce the number of his name usage)?

Although your writing/ideas seem simple, it this epic is ‘rushed,’ it needs more extended in depth action, intensity. I will rate 3/5!