A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

she had to admit. But what thief would then spend close to half an hour in the chamber he was robbing? Half an hour and still counting. She'd heard no alarms, seen no lights spring to life behind any of the estate's other windows, nothing to indicate that anything had gone wrong. So what was Crokus doing in there?
    Sorry stiffened. Sorcery had burgeoned in another part of Darujhistan, and its flavour was known to her. She hesitated, unable to decide. Leave the lad and investigate this new, deadly emanation? Or remain here until Crokus re-emerged or was discovered?
    Then she saw something behind the balcony's sliding doors that ended her indecision.
     
    Sweat ran down Crokus's face and he found he had repeatedly to wipe it from his eyes. He'd beaten the new triggers to get inside – the one on the balcony, the trip-wire at the latch – and now padded to the makeup table. Once there he froze, unable to move. Idiot! What am 1 doing here?
    He listened to her soft, regular breathing behind him – like the breath of a dragon – he was certain he could feel it gusting against the back of his neck. Crokus looked up and scowled at his own reflection in the mirror. What was happening to him? If he didn't leave soon ... He began to remove his bag's contents. When he'd finished he glanced again at his own face – to see another behind it, a round, white face watching him from the bed.
    The girl spoke. 'Since you're putting it all back, I'd prefer the proper arrangement. My makeup jar goes to the left of the mirror,' she said, in a whisper. 'The hairbrush goes to the right. Have you my earrings as well? Just leave them on the dresser.'
    Crokus groaned. He'd even forgotten to cover his face. 'Don't try anything,' he growled. 'I've returned everything, and now I'll leave. Understand?'
    The girl pulled her blankets about her and moved to the bed's end. 'Threats won't work, thief,' she said. 'All I need do is scream and my father's Master Guardsman will be here in seconds. Would you cross your dagger with his shortsword?'
    'No,' said Crokus. 'I'd put it to your throat instead. With you as a hostage, with you between me and the guard, will he swing his blade at me? Unlikely.'
    The girl paled. 'As a thief, you'd lose a hand. But kidnapping a high-born, it'd be the high gallows for you.'
    Crokus tried to shrug casually. He glanced at the balcony, gauging how fast he could be outside and then up on the roof. That new trip-wire was a nuisance.
    'Stay where you are,' the girl commanded. 'I'm lighting a lantern.'
    'Why?' Crokus demanded, fidgeting.
    'To see you better,' she replied, and light bloomed in the room from the lantern in her lap.
    He scowled. He hadn't noticed it there, so close at hand. She was ruining his plans even as he made them. 'What's the point in seeing me better?' he snarled. 'Just call your damn guards and have me arrested. Be done with it.' He pulled the silk turban from his shirt and dropped it on the tabletop. 'That's all of it,' he said.
    The girl glanced at the turban and shrugged easily. 'That was to be part of my costume for the Fete,' she said. 'I've since found a nicer one.'
    'What,' he hissed, 'do you want with me?'
    Fear showed momentarily on her face at his desperate outburst, then she smiled. 'I wish to know why a thief who succeeded in stealing all my jewels should now be returning them. That isn't something thieves usually do.'
    'With good reason,' he muttered, more to himself than to her. He stepped forward then stopped as she jerked back on to her bed, her eyes widening. Crokus raised a hand. 'Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you. Only ... I want to see you better. That's all.'
    'Why?'
    He was at a loss for an answer to that. After all, he couldn't very well tell her he'd fallen madly in love with her. 'What's your name?' he blurted.
    'Challice D'Arle. What's yours?'
    Challice. 'Of course,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'You would be named something like that.' He glared at her. 'My name? None of your business. Thieves don't introduce themselves to their victims.'
    Her eyebrows rose. 'Victim? But I'm no longer a victim, am I? You've settled that by returning. I'd think,' she said slyly, 'you're more or less obliged to tell me your name, considering what you're doing. And you must be the type who treats obligations seriously, no matter how strange they seem.'
    Crokus frowned at that. What was she talking about? What did she know about how he looked at obligations? And why was she right? 'My name,' he