No Purpose but Their Purpose

Chen watched the people go by, occasionally stopping to buy some goods from the merchants. The stalls were crowded so closely that their ends started to merge into a whole. This was what made up the grand market square of Onos. Again he looked, and again he was unable to discern his target from the throng of the ever present bustling crowd at the market. Yet he stayed hidden, unmoving, waiting. Finally! He saw his target, approaching warily from the right. He was an old man his informant said he was almost 50-and was wearing expensive clothes of white and purple. He was moving to the wine stall near the edge of the market. Chen slowly crawled out from the shop he was hiding behind and began to slowly make his way to the wine stall. He was very careful to stay clear of the people he suspected to be his target’s guards. They had most likely assimilated into the crowd minutes before. His legs were screaming with agony at moving after hours of waiting, but he ignored the pain. He stealthily came closer and closer to his target…

Gomez was a careful man; he was constantly under surveillance by armed guards. Even here in the crowded bustling streets of Onos he had hidden guards only a few feet away. He was a wealthy business man and, as such, had many competitors and enemies. He came to the market only in the afternoon, and he always had a slave taste his food and drink before he ate. He had his own private doctor, and his 5th floor room in one of the best inns in Onos was locked and bolted. Today he was turning 47, quite a remarkable feat. It meant that he was well protected and good at surviving. He had no wife or children, and he wanted to treat himself to a special, and very expensive, type of wine. Gomez approached the stall keeper, a young man with a bright face and a smile. Gomez knew it was just an act, though. The boy immediately recognized Gomez as an experienced customer. He had already prepared half a dozen flattering things to say to this interesting and finely dressed man. However, upon seeing this man’s bright and intelligent eyes and the way he frowned at him, he decided to drop all attempts at buttering this customer up and get right to the point.
“How may I help you?” he asked, careful to keep his eyes pinned to the older man’s face for any hint of emotion. Gomez nodded.
“I want to buy some wine,” he stated flatly.
“Well, we have many different types of wine, all of them very good,” the boy declared.
“I’m sure you have some recommendations,” Gomez said.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” said the boy. “Over here we have some wine from...” he stopped. Gomez had started coughing violently. A few seconds later he stopped and straightened from his former bending position. He waved away the young man’s concerns, blaming his coughing fit on lung problems, and continued their conversation.
Chen, creeping towards Gomez from behind, heard the coughing and stood up immediately. He released a pin holding some rags that were draped on his shoulder and covered himself with them. He turned around slowly taking out a small tin cup as he did so and started to shake it up and down. His back to his target, he took out some of his own coins and deposited them into his cup, still shaking it. As soon as he could hear the sound of the coins shaking around in the cup he started to emit a low keening moan. He knew the old trick well. The man’s cough was really a signal to his guards to be wary for any danger that might arise. Now in a beggar’s guise Chen again continued towards his target.

Gomez groaned inwardly. The boy was going on and on about all of the wines he had, going into every last detail, probably fabricated, about where they originated, which noble previously owned it and how much he had paid for them. (Which was also probably false.)
“Listen,” Gomez finally said, “are you going to sell me anything or not? If not, then I’ll just visit another stall.”
“Okay! Okay! Why don’t you just try some of this here wine? Bought it from the king of Jaska, I did. Try some!” Was that sweat he saw on the boy’s face? Was the boy worried he would leave? “Sure,” Gomez said carefully.” He took the bottle, uncorked it and took a sniff. Unfortunately, it was a holiday today for many of his slaves, and so Gomez had let them go make tukes, small tents that the slaves’ families would use to sit around the oldest tree in Onos and sing songs, as was their tradition. His personal slave that normally tasted his food had been sick yesterday and was now recovering, so he would have to taste his food himself. The wine seemed safe enough and the cork didn't seem as if it had previously been taken out, smacked his lips lifted the bottle, and took a draft.
“Wonderful, very sweet!” he said. “How much is it?”
The young boy continued to list prices and the haggling began. Strange, thought Gomez, even when they seemed to reach an agreement, the boy came up with some way of keeping the bargaining going. It almost seemed as if he was doing it on purpose. He probably just wants me to buy it for a higher price, Gomez thought. After a minute or so Gomez felt a sharp sting of pain on his arm; he sucked in his breath through clenched teeth and looked down quickly at his arm. There was a tiny wound that was already beginning to swell. Gomez looked around quickly but saw no one close enough to be able to hurt him. The closest person was a scrawny beggar hobbling away, draped in filthy rags and hunch-backed. Gomez surmised that he had probably been stung by a wasp, and that he would have his doctor treat the wound later. Wincing, Gomez turned back to the young man to resume arguing with him over the price. They quickly came to an agreement.
Peculiar, Gomez thought, only a few minutes ago, the boy had had trouble even with the smallest extra coin. Gomez took the wine and walked away from the stall. As he was about to exit the market place, he looked back one more time at the stall where he had bought the wine. He saw the beggar walking by it and stumble, leaning on the stall to keep his balance. Gomez thought he saw something shiny wink quickly on the table between them, but it must have been a trick of the light. Everyone knows beggars don’t have any coins.

Chen walked slowly to the western edge of the market, the side opposite to his now doomed target. He knew that even if his target figured out he had been poisoned, he would still never survive. He had, in fact, been poisoned twice. The first was with the poisonous juices that had been squeezed from a plant called the deadly nightshade and secreted into the wine. However, unlike most poisons, these juices were sweet. The second time was when Gomez had been “stung by a wasp” actually using a spring system that Chen had invented, Chen had shot a small needle with some of the poison within a special seed called the rosary pea, while a rosary pea was safe by itself, if allowed entry into the bloodstream it would almost certainly cause death. Also, because of some added chemicals, the wound would swell like a hornet sting. Both of these poisons were hard to detect. There were extremely few doctors in the entire kingdom of Temos who could recognize the poisons that ailed Gomez and even fewer who could actually find a cure. Even then, the cost for such a treatment would be much higher than he could afford. His informant had served him well, although his cooperation and silence fees had been costly.

Chen stopped in the street and branched off into a dark and dirty alley. He recoiled ever so slightly at the rancid stench that permeated the air and made very sure to stay clear of the flamboyant orange moss that grew on the moist walls of the alley. When he reached the end, he kneeled down and reached his hand out, ignoring the bugs and grime on the ground. He ran his hand along the base of the wall until he found what he was looking for. There was a tiny hole in between two stones. He took a small sliver of silver metal out of his purse and carefully inserted it into the hole in the wall. It fit snugly and clicked into place with a silent snick. Chen stepped back a few paces and waited…
After a few minutes there was a soft clunk, followed by the muted sounds of well-oiled gears turning. All of a sudden accompanying a low groaning sound, a brick was pulled inwards from the wall with another hole in it. Chen removed his sliver of metal, stuck it in the new hole, and turned it, like a key. There was an almost unidentifiable shink as something metal underneath him was drawn against yet another metal object. Chen quickly began scanning the grounds surface, unlike the first time there was now a small slot empty in the ground that a small brick had previously occupied. He hurriedly stuffed his fingers into the slot and pulled with all his strength, leaning back and stretching out. Finally without a sound, the slab of stone swung open. Chen swiftly yanked his fingers out of the slot in the slab, which he had used as a handle, and proceeded to deftly take back out his miniature key, which had returned with the wall. While he was in the process of standing up he heard a crack of stone on stone, and when he looked back the slot for his fingers was gone.
Chen shook his head to clear it, he would need all his wits to survive the place that he was about to go to. Squaring his shoulders, he descended down the ladder that lay hidden on the inside of the new passage and into the gloom closing the slab behind him. At the bottom of ladder there was a corridor. Chen walked down it without hesitating; he came across many other people bustling about, but all moved out of his way when they saw the star crest on his label badge, a small, diamond shaped slab of metal with every member’s personal insignia on it, pinned to his shirt. He knew that if he didn't have a label pad, that he would never have made it past the first few meters. As Chen walked farther down the corridor, he started to see branches to the left and to the right, with dozens of other doors dotting their insides; however, he did not deviate from his path, and instead, continued on. At last, he came to a pair of huge ancient oak doors. Standing on either side of the doors were two large men in full armor, with the sun crest engraved on their shields. In the center stood a tall woman dressed entirely in black, the only exception being the silver crescent moon crest that glistened on her suit. Chen walked up to the woman, and spoke the password of the hour to them. The password changed every hour and every day there was a new set of passwords, all exceeding seven letters, sometimes they were a random series of letters, and sometimes they were phrases or even sentences. Chen made sure he was always well informed. The woman stepped aside and the two men opened up the heavy doors. Chen walked in, his footsteps making no noise.
He came to a stop at the center of an extremely large, dome shaped room. Sitting in chairs that rimmed the edges of the room facing the center of the room were the leaders of the entire thieves’ network. There were five and twenty seats yet only four and twenty were filled. Twelve women and twelve men, each of them in perfect physical shape, with minds as sharp as their razor edged daggers, filled the seats. They were trained professionals, exemplary at their craft, and each one was a chief. Everyone had almost limitless power, only surpassed by the grand, high thief. The high thief was the original creator of this entire community of thieves. One only became a chief when the high thief said so and not before. Once you were granted that title, you were moved to this room, the cavern of the crooks. Each of the chiefs was staring at Chen. Their gazes cut at him like blades of ice. He knew from experience that they were trying to read him, to gain some sort of advantage over him. Any expression, even a twitch, they would be able to trace back to some source, and they would surely use that against him. However, Chen’s face remained blank. At last, the chiefs gave up and instead turned to the empty chair in the front of the room. A shapeless figure walked in through an invisible door, covered in a shroud of darkness. He, or she, for the name and gender of the high thief was not known to anyone, not even those gathered here, sat down in his golden chair. In fact, almost nothing was known about the high thief, not even a guess at the true age of this being for it was said that he/she had even stolen the secret to eternal youth. All that was known of him was his crest, a large pillar of multicolored flame. Then the high thief spoke to Chen in a monotonous voice.
“Have you completed your assignment?”
“Yes I have,” Chen replied.
“Good, I have only one more job for you and then, I will give you back your sister.”
Chen almost gasped, but caught himself just in time. The only reason Chen worked for these wretched crooks was to get his sister back. She had been stolen from his family, right from their house in Onos when he was ten, his mother and father killed in the process, and since then, he had been trying desperately to save her. After two years he had been captured during an attempted rescue of his sister. That was when the high thief had enlisted Chen, saying that if he accomplished three-hundred tasks for the high thief, he/she would set Chen’s sister free. Since that time, Chen had spent nigh on ten years, doing jobs for this rabble of thieves. At last he saw an end to his quest. The high thief continued his/her speech.
“I want you,” Chen thought he heard a chuckle, but then the high thief continued “to steal the famed and legendary Shadow Cloak from the king of Tampar’s royal vault.”
At this Chen did gasp, for not only was the kingdom of Tampa on an entirely different continent, it was also revered as one of the most militarily successful empires in the world. The royal Shadow Cloak was its greatest treasure, legend had it that the wearer of the cloak could not be harmed by arrows, swords, or even fists, and could walk straight through solid walls. Having said this, the high thief stood up and exited the cavern. Chen knew there would be no arguing, the high thief’s word was absolute, and would not waver. Chen clenched his teeth. He would do whatever it took to get his sister back, even if it meant stealing the magnificent Shadow Cloak. With these thoughts in mind, Chen exited the cavern of the crooks and proceeded to the hidden stables. He took the reins of his horse Alen and climbed on. He had a long journey, covering many leagues, and with untold dangers, ahead of him.