The Thief: A Craft of Shadows Tale Page 3

  * * *

  A private booth in the tavern in the city below entertained several large plates with thick slices of hot meat and the thief gustily ripped at his meal. His wrist-knife was wedged into the wooden serving platter. He mopped up the pooling juices with a torn-off crust of fine-milled fresh bread. The wine bottle on the table was an expensive choice, rich and fruity, an indulgence for a night of celebration, and already half empty. He swigged heartily from the drinking jar and his mind wandered once more to the serving wench who just now delivered it to him. The generous view of her walking away was at least as entertaining, if not more so, than was her buxom arrival.

  He sighed and leaned back against the padded leather, which croaked as he shifted his weight. The jewels and chains in his pockets would see him live well for several weeks to come. There were many twinkling baubles that would no doubt work well to catch the avaricious attention of pretty girls and win a night between their sheets. Clean beds and well-scrubbed women.

  And then, when the money's all spent?

  He shrugged and returned to the wine.

  Something will come up, something always does.

  Afterword

  The fantasy world of the Thief draws from hundreds of years’ of history and legends of the lands that he visits. I’ve never let historical accuracy get in the way of the story, and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

  The Thief’s adventures continue in The Jewel of Nineveh.