The pair regaled their audience through two more performances. One humorous, centered on an annual festival competition in Gola-Didrith involving some recalcitrant dire goats. The second was more suspenseful and involved stealing a painting from the highly secure tower of a local wizard.

  There's a funny thing about stage performance. It always makes them trust me far more than they should.

  Maybe it had something to do with showing his vulnerability, laid bare through the stories, or maybe it was the shared laughs. But when he was done, the audience felt like they knew him. Even better, they trusted him and treated him like a friend, whereas before the show, he was just a feline face in the crowd. Whydah experienced the same, even though she wasn’t as front and center during the delivery. They had discussed it, back in the earliest days of their travels.

  Time to exploit it.

  As Bird wrapped up their third tale, he cast out their usual request for information.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” He bowed his head in appreciation.

  “A big part of our material starts with tales of local curiosity, rumors, myth, and legends that we learn from folks like yourselves on evenings like this.” He cast his arms wide. “We look into them, and sometimes, there is a story for the world to hear. So, this is your chance to become part of the show.” He gestured towards his musical companion. “Whydah and I will be sticking around for a drink or two and would love to hear about anything peculiar or interesting going on in the area. Even if you don’t have all the details, we’d love to hear about it!” The cat bowed deeply. “And once again, thank you for your generosity!”

  With that, he gave a final flourish and retreated. The audience cheered enthusiastically, some rising to their feet. Bird stepped to Whydah, the post-performance rush of euphoria racing through his veins. Beaming to the crowd, they raised their arms together in a final curtain call and began to pack up.

  Buffered by a few feet of separation, the applause, and animated post-performance discussion, this was their opportunity to make a quick plan. What the crowd hadn’t noticed, and never did, was the deliberate reconnaissance that was taking place on the part of the performers while they were entertaining.

  Time to pluck the chickens!

  While their attention was focused on him, Whydah had all the time in the world to observe every patron. She noticed where they kept their coin purses, how full or empty they were, who drank heavily, who watched their surroundings, and who was less concerned. This is how they set up “The Take”. Through the intelligence gathering before and during the performance, the pair would identify five or six specific marks that fit the bill and go to work.

  They never targeted too many or took too much. Always leave some doubt in the mind of the victim and the establishment about the occurrence of any robbery. That kept them below the attention threshold of local law enforcement.

  He smiled at her. “Fantastic show tonight, as always! Did you put a little something extra in your spell? I felt it, more than usual.”

  “I think I’m getting better at the casting”. She returned the smile.

  “So, what did you see?”

  “Green hat and red beard are both still definite candidates. Fat purses- fairly accessible - and moderate drinkers. Both have swords, though, so we’ll need to be a bit careful.”

  Bird nodded. “I saw that. Well, we can’t hit both, too obvious. Which one do you like better?”

  “Red beard, I think. And I’d like to grab it. He’s quite tall, and I think I can get it with the right jostle.”

  So proud of her.

  He nodded again and grinned.

  “Look at you – going for your first pull! Okay. I’ll engage the two of them in another story over a drink. Look for my cue, and I’ll give you the jostle you need.” He scanned the room. “Who else? How about overalls or blond braids?”

  Whydah shook her head.

  “Braids has a pouch that is part of her dress in the middle, at her waist. It’s tough to get to, and she isn’t carrying much. I haven’t seen overalls pay for a single drink all night.” Her eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted to the far side of the room. “But that elf...” She trailed off.

  “I was wondering if you noticed him. Definitely not local – too well-dressed. Belt purse left side.”

  “Yes, I saw him digging around in there looking for the right color to pay Gella, always a good sign”.

  Was that a twinkle in her eye?

  “And did you catch the blacksmith? Keeps his scratch in the side pocket of his apron. How many coins left, you think?”

  “I saw at least two, one tin, one yellow. He pulled them all out when paying for his last drink. Guessing he didn’t want to give her the yellow accidentally.”

  That was all they had time for, but it was enough. With the packing complete, the two travelers left the stage area, making their way to the bar while several audience members converged to intercept them.

  This is exactly what we want. Chaotic. Bodies pressed into tighter spaces than normal, nonsuspicious contact, and shifting of positions. The Tabby purred quietly to himself.

  Blacksmith was first. After shaking his hand and showing appreciation for his remarks, Bird deftly slid his fingers into the apron pocket as he moved past the man to greet the next well-wisher. Sure enough, Whydah was right – two coins. Well-practiced in differentiating denominations by touching the surfaces, Bird made his choice and removed his prize in one smooth motion. Child’s play.

  Meanwhile, Whydah gathered up the hat from the floor and emptied it. A glance revealed at least twenty coppers and four silvers. Not bad at all for a crowd this size. Turning her back to the room, she shoved the hat into her pack and put the coins into the purse she carried around her neck. Not the most accessible, but secure.

  As she turned to follow Bird towards the bar, she was cut off by a dwarven man who had been watching her intently all night. Suitor or fellow musician? It was usually one or the other.

  “Sharp work up there, Lassie!” Speaking in a heavy dwarven accent, he offered his hand.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and accepted the handshake. Careful; just because he’s a musician doesn’t mean he isn’t a creep.

  The calloused fingertips of his right hand pressed into hers as they shook. Interesting. A lefty. Rare among lutists.

  “I love the sound you got working the neck. What were you using on your index finger?”

  Reaching around behind her into the pocket of her pack, Whydah pulled out the neck of a whiskey bottle she had broken off and sanded down to avoid injury.

  “Oh, you mean this – my slide?”

  “From a whiskey bottle. That’s brilliant! How does it work?”

  Always appreciative of positive feedback for her play, Whydah illustrated how she used the slide and transposed the frets she needed to play above it with her remaining fingers. Instinctively, she noticed the dwarf’s reasonably plump coin purse on his left hip. As he still looked a little puzzled, she seized the opportunity.

  “Here, let me show you.” She quickly dropped her pack and freed the lute, handing him the slide. The dwarf squeezed his fatter left index finger into the glass tube and accepted the instrument. “Now, this is strung backward for a lefty, but you get the idea.” Stepping behind her mark, Whydah used her left hand to guide his fingers into place. The dwarf bridged all the strings with the slide, placing his other fingers in front. He didn’t notice her using her right hand to delicately fish into his coin purse and relieve him of three silvers. Gotcha!

  “Aye, I get it now - brill! Thanks for that. I’ve got to make me one of those.”

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  She took back the lute and turned away, reattached it to her pack while simultaneously sliding her silver spoils safely into the side pocket. With some effort, the dwarf managed to get the slide off his sausage finger and offered it back to her.

  “You know what…keep it. That one’s a little too big for me. Consider it a gift.”

  The dwarf beamed in appreciation, thanked her, and shook her hand again before making his exit.

  Most expensive piece of broken glass he’ll ever buy.

  Feeling rather proud of herself for making her first pull (as Bird called it) all on her own, Whydah picked up her pack and proceeded towards Tabby’s fuzzy black head bobbing above the crowd by the bar.

  For his part, the cat had already plucked his second pigeon of the evening, having secured the entire coin purse from the previously identified elf. He reflected on how he’d slid one claw between purse and belt and severed the silk, liberating the currency and its vessel into his gentle grasp before tucking it safely under his jerkin. Retractable claws do make things so much easier. He stood at the bar with the evening’s main targets – Green Hat and Red Beard – whose names he recently learned were Aarol and Vern (or was it the other way around?). Regardless, he was regaling them with a detailed account of the time they had been plucked out of thin air by a gnomish inventor mage to deal with an ice dragon terrorizing the local community. He shivered involuntarily, recalling the bodies of other local champions entombed beneath the ice inside the dragon’s lair. His audience, however, including a few passives content to observe from the periphery, ate it up.

  They hung on every word, which was exactly the objective, as he set the stage for his halfling protege to make her bump and grab. Where was she? His annoyance bubbled up. How long could it take to pack a lute and cross the floor? The timing for this was critical. He drew out the detail to stall.

  As it happened, the cause of Whydah’s delay was at least worthwhile. Making her way towards Bird’s position, she was cut off by a sheepish, middle-aged human. He repetitively made brief eye contact before returning to look at the floor, hands nervously clasped at his waist. Not a threat. Nonetheless, he stood directly between the halfling and her desired destination.

  “Miss Whydah?”

  “Yes, hi!”

  “Your friend, the cat, he said you were interested in hearing about anything out of the ordinary…” his voice trailed off. The way he pronounced the word ‘ordinary’ told Whydah he was uneducated, and his clothes were the shabby garb of a lifelong farmer.

  “Oh yes! We are very interested in anything like that, especially if it involves magic or strange creatures…mister…?” His eyes rose to meet hers, and his gaze softened into a slight smile as she validated the reason for his intrusion.

  “Garn. Ned Garn. Now this is somewhat second-hand, mind, but one of my waggoners was telling me just this morning about the Luminarium abbey”

  Her brain tingled in unexpected recognition. An old adventuring partner had opted to settle down at the Luminarium a year or so back.

  “What about it? What happened?” Her tone shifted to genuine concern.

  “Now, he didn’t know what happened, mind, but he said the abbey was razed to the ground, still burning. He saw it from Shand Road on his way back from Godobeth. He planned to stop there but thought better of it after seeing the smoke. Camped rough by the riverside instead.”

  Oh Shit! Tsuta!

  Over the next few minutes, Whydah learned they were a days' ride from the Abbey and that the detail was one day old. Can’t think about this right now. Stay on task. She thanked the farmer and resumed her journey towards the outbursts of laughter and amazement over by the bar that would undoubtedly have Bird at their center.

  The tabby felt a sense of relief as he spied her pushing her way through the crowd towards him. Finally! He was nearing the trigger point of the story and couldn’t stretch it out much longer. Catching her eye, he raised his right brow, telling her to get ready. She’s as white as a ghost. Can’t worry about that right now; the wheels are in motion. He was at the point of the story where they subdued the dragon with a magic ball of iron bands. It’s now or never. Come on, girl, get yourself together.

  Whydah knew the tale well and quietly took up position unnoticed behind Red Beard, her pack at her feet. As Bird described throwing the magic ball at the dragon, its iron bands exploding in a burst of light and lashing the creature in place, he leaned forward and grabbed Red Beard by the shoulders for emphasis.

  Shifting his weight to lean slightly on his target, the move surprised the human, and he took a half-step back to steady himself – stumbling right into Whydah. This was “the bump”. With the impact, she made her move.

  Feigning a backward fall, she grabbed the man’s coat in her left hand, sliding her right into the pocket holding his coin purse. Once secured, she withdrew it and allowed her left hand to slide down his back as she “fell” to the floor. Taking care to roll onto her stomach, shielding his line of sight, Whydah tucked the purse into the open pocket of her pack.

  Surprised by the contact, Red Beard instinctively turned, realizing he had knocked the halfling over. Immediately, he began to apologize and helped her up, oblivious to the departure of the purse.

  “It’s OK,” she said. “For someone my size, it happens more often than you think. No harm done. Clearly, I arrived at the wrong moment!”

  Bird jumped in effortlessly.

  “No, no, that’s entirely my fault. It was my dramatic flair that started the sequence. I’m sorry, Whydah, let me get you a horn to make it up to you.” Bird nodded towards the nearly empty cups of his two new friends.

  “It looks like you gentlemen could use one as well.”

  This, too, was by design. He didn’t want Red Beard to reach for his now-absent coins before the two thieves were long gone from The Barrel. The tabby signaled to Egon for four more horns of ale and fished the silver he’d just lifted from the blacksmith out of his jerkin pocket as payment.

  Deliberately outpacing the two humans, the troubadours made small talk until they finished their drinks and said their goodbyes, blaming an early departure.

  “We won’t be far behind you; we’ve got a long ride ahead of us on the morrow as well,” offered Green Hat (Aarol?).

  Even better. They may not notice until morning.

  Thanking Egon and Gella again, the performers bid goodbye to the crowd and made their way out into the night, down the road to the White Horse Inn.

  “Well done!” bird beamed at Whydah. “That was perfect!”

  “Not quite. I have to work on the landing a bit.” Whydah grimaced. “I landed right on my hip bone. Hurts like the shadow realm with every step”. Bird chuckled.

  “Not funny,” she snapped back as the two thieves limped into the White Horse and up the stairs to their rooms. “Let me drop my gear. I’ll be over in a minute to count the haul.”

  This was a practical ritual following every performance. The pair pooled all the funds, both given and taken, dividing the proceeds equally.

  Closing the door behind her, Whydah dropped her pack on the bed and winced before plopping herself down beside it, rubbing her right hip. That will be a nasty bruise tomorrow.

  The accommodation was simple: a bed and a small chest of drawers topped by a wash basin with a fresh urn of water. An uncomfortable chair rounded out the furnishings.

  Fishing through the multitude of pockets on her pack, the halfling gathered all her contributions to the evening’s proceeds: the given funds from the performance hat, the 3 slivers that came courtesy of the dwarf, and, finally, Red Beard’s purse. This is unusual. She didn’t notice it originally, but the purse contained something more than coins. Her fingers traced multiple points and sharp edges through the velvet cloth. What have we here? She undid the cinch and extracted a silver necklace and pendant. She held it up to get a closer look. Hello, my beauty!

  There was no forged clasp. Instead, the chain threaded through the topmost of three elegant woven circles stacked in a triangle at the pendant’s apex. Expertly joined with an inverted crown, the silver setting capped an exquisite shimmering crystal. No longer than her ring finger and slightly thicker in girth, the crystal had six sides, ending in a tapered point. Partially translucent, its milky depth boasted a reflective property, returning flashes of deep blue, yellow, and green as she turned it in examination. Each colorful fleck was mesmerizing, appearing to float and shift within the crystalline structure as they refracted the surrounding light. I’ve never seen anything like you before…

  Whydah made up her mind instantly. Call it a memento to commemorate her first success as a rum bob. I’m entitled to it. We don’t need to sell it. The haul was good enough for us to live well for days. Without further internal justification, she slipped the chain around her neck and tucked the pendant under her tunic. Gathering up the rest of the evening’s holdings, she pushed herself up off the bed, reminded immediately of the twinge in her hip, and limped across the hall to Bird’s room.

  Two quick knocks preceded a muffled confirmation from within. Opening the door, she took in a room identical to her own. Bird was hunched over his portion of the evening’s proceeds on the bed, a wide feline grin on his face.

  “Not a bad take at all! I got one gold off the blacksmith, and that elf had two more, along with four silvers and three coppers in his purse! How did you do?”

  Whydah dropped onto the bed and added her acquisitions to the collection.

  “Three silvers from a dwarf that cornered me as I was leaving the stage – wanted to talk about lute playing.” She shot him a grin. “It was an expensive conversation for him.” Bird nodded slowly, his lower lip slightly protruding in acknowledgment. As she poured the given coins into the pile, he quickly added them up.

  “Four silver and twenty-two coppers, not bad at all. And how about Red Beard? Are you saving the best for last?”

  “I haven’t even looked yet”. She tossed the purse, which he deftly caught and dumped into the pile. Four gold coins, one silver, and a single copper spilled out to join the collection.

  “Four gold – wow! That’s a lot to carry in a small town like this.” The cat’s fingers were busy shifting the coins into two equal amounts.

  “Okay, that gives us six silvers, thirteen coppers, and two gold each, with one extra gold. What should we do about that?”

  “You hold onto it,” Whydah said, feeling a slight warmth rise to her cheeks as shame and guilt from the undeclared necklace and pendant blossomed inside her. “I trust you. I’ll take the next one that comes out uneven.” Bird met her gaze and, after a moment’s pause, agreed with a nod.

  “You really took your time getting to us at the bar. I felt like I was spinning that yarn forever, waiting for you to get into position!”

  “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot!” Whydah blurted, “I had another pigeon stop me on my way over to share some information.”

  “Anything good?” Bird said idly as he focused on gathering his share of the coins and dividing them among his coin purse and multiple pockets within his pack. Never keep all your money in one place.

  “He told me about an abbey razed to the ground not far from here. It was called the Luminarium.”

  Bird’s head snapped up at the mention of the name. His coin sorting stopped abruptly, his focus now entirely on Whydah.

  “Wasn’t that where Tsuta went after we parted ways down south?”

  “I thought that was the name he mentioned, yes.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  “Yesterday, so he said.”

  “Okay, and more than a day’s ride? We will be a bit late to the party, but we have to go. He’s a solid elf, always there for us in tight spots. What do you think?”

  “I agree,” she nodded. “If we can help, we should.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll ride at first light. Do you know how to get there?”

  “Straight up the Sshanderiusha road that follows the river.”

  Bird dropped his gaze and nodded. She knew him well enough to recognize that he was internally processing concern for their friend. She gathered up her share of the coins as he slowly returned to dividing his own into various locations. They said goodnight, and Whydah returned to her room and, hopefully, some decent rest.