THIEF: THE MIDNIGHT VEIL

02: "THE SEAL AND THE PAINTING"

     Flor hastily unwound the twine binding the scroll and unfurled it across the desk. "You know about her estate, but do you know anything about Lady Arden?"
     "Mm. She's a friend of Sherrif Truart's. Pours a considerable amount of money into the City Watch and Hammerite coffers. Prominent art collector."
     "That's right." Flor was smoothing out the scroll and grabbed a capped jar of ink to use as a paperweight. "Staunch supporter of the Hammerites. Devout believer in The Builder as well."
     "Walks the talk, does she?"
     "She does. Even has her own Book of Tenets. Two copies, supposedly. One is on display in the entry foyer."
     Garrett watched the rain-stained window over the woman's shoulder. He withheld a snide comment. "I'm not stealing a Hammer Book of Tenets. Go read it at the library. Probably could find one in a gutter somewhere."
     "You think I would waste my time with that?" she asked crossly. "Light that candle."
     The man obliged, and soon he was looking over Flor's shoulder, joining her in looking intently at the scroll she had laid out on the desk. Candlelight danced softly, its warm glow giving way to what was clearly an official, neatly scripted legal document.
     Garrett frowned. "This is a letter from Lady Arden to Karras."
     "It is." Flor traced her finger across the page as she quickly read its contents.

To Karras, respectfully ~

It is with reverence and a thorough understanding of the weight of words that I write to you this day, with intent to offer my staunch support to your cause and to The Mechanists.

The Hammerites who still cling to their Olde Ways are but dust on the anvil. It pains me to see them waste themselves in the name of The Builder. I used to ask myself: can they not see the truth? Only now do I see clearly - they cannot.

So focused are they on the past that they neglect their duties to the future, and more importantly the present. They forfeit the impact they could have on The City by rejecting change. Soon they will join the Pagans that they despise so; homeless, skulking about on the fringes of society, reduced to naught but dust in the wind.

I have publicly spoken against your movement in the past, it is true - but I now understand that progress should be embraced, and your Great Progression, the Advent of the Machine, is what will bring our city into a New Age. I see this now. I wish I had seen it sooner.

Your claim that The Builder appointed you to usher us all into a bright new future is something I first scoffed at. However, I hope you will find it within your wisdom and your heart to forgive this folly and allow me a chance to make amends. Let us forge a new relationship, one known officially to the Public and all of its facets.

Perhaps we could meet soon to discuss how we may be able to assist each other as mutual friends. One can never have too many allies in The City, and I'm confident I have abundant connections and resources abound for your cause.

Most sincerely,
Lady Gwyneth Arden

    Garrett's eyes followed along as Flor read the letter aloud. His brow was furrowed in thought, and he gave a grunt as she finished reading. "Huh. Unexpected, considering she's been supporting the Hammerites for years."
     "Mm," came Flor. "Most unexpected. The Hammerites won't be happy."
     "I suppose not." Garrett carefully looked the letter over again. "Impeccable handwriting. Looks recent. I would ask how you got this letter, but—"
     "Something's missing?" Flor finished for him.
     Garrett nodded. "Her signature is there and looks authentic enough - I wouldn't know for sure - but it's missing Lady Arden's seal. That tells me this is fake."
     "Quite right."
     "Definitely sounds like her. Flowery speech, long-winded. Not bad at all. Did you write this?"
     Flor shook her head. "I have my fair share of contacts, and one of them is quite good with forgery. I'll spare you the details, but we 'acquired' a recent letter of correspondence from Lady Arden to Lord Bafford's head of staff at his Sunnyfair gambling house, and my forger referenced it for this letter." She turned her eyes back to the parchment, thoroughly pleased. "The imitation is remarkable. Truly looks like she wrote the bloody thing herself. If you were to set this beside a real letter of hers, you could not tell the difference - even under a looking glass."
     The rain pouring outside eased up slightly, and a flash of lightning flickered through the window as Garrett pondered the woman's presentation. He made a mental note to ask her later why on earth Lady Arden would be sending a letter to one of Lord Bafford's seedy establishments.
     Flor rolled the parchment back up. "Which brings me to why I am here," she continued, rewrapping the twine around the scroll carefully. "If this letter is to be taken as the real thing, it needs to bear Lady Arden's seal... otherwise it will be tossed into the nearest fireplace. There's no way in Pagan's hell or Builder's heaven that I can get to it myself."
     Garrett's face did not change. He watched the woman closely for a moment before shifting on his feet again. "You need Lady Arden's seal."
     "Mm. I'm asking you to break in and stamp the wax yourself onto this letter."
     "You want me to sneak into one of the most heavily guarded estates in The City so I can seal a fake letter for you."
     "Yes."
     The thief did not reply.
     Flor raised her eyebrows. "You're not gonna ask me why?"
     "I'll admit I'm curious."
     She smiled, satisfied. "I'll spare you too many details, but like I said, Basso's jobs came from someone, didn't they? Me. And I was able to fix those jobs because of my contacts at Wayside. I may or may not have some vested interest in what is imported and exported down there at the docks. Which, by the way - Rampone Shipping was hit recently. Pretty badly, too. Was that you?"
     Garrett shifted impatiently. "Get to your point, Flor."
     The woman stood and paced quietly to the apartment window. She gazed out at the night, a dark world blurred by heavy rain upon the glass. "My point is, what happens at the docks provides me business. My business pays my rent, just as your business pays yours." She faced Garrett. "Lady Arden is a week away from ruining all of it."
     "How so?"
     "Oh, now you're interested?"
     "If something is going to affect the flow of things at the docks, then yes, I'm interested."
     Flor grinned. "Not a surprise, I suppose. Well - the Hammerites are growing more obsolete by the day, thanks to that Karras bloke and the Mechanists. Now I'm not sure why, but the Hammers are suddenly in negotiations to buy up half of the docks at Wayside. Lady Arden was fronting the coin for this venture. All of it."
     Garrett frowned. "The Hammers at the docks? Odd combination."
     "It is. But if they own half of Wayside, that's going to kill business for me, Garrett." Flor bit her lip softly. "They want to take over Varley Imports, Brosius & Sons, Carrington Freight, Gilver Exports. Word is they're even trying to negotiate with Rampone."
"Impossible. The Hammers can't afford that. They can't even afford one of those companies, let alone the rest. Their church is failing."
"Like I said, Lady Arden is funding the venture. I don't use 'funding' lightly. She has deep pockets. She won't lose any sleep over it."
     Garrett was still frowning. The move by the Hammers was certainly unexpected - if what Flor was saying was true. "So what does this have to do with this letter and Arden's seal?"
     "Lady Arden, as you said, is as loyal to the Hammerite Order as they come. They are relying on her funding to make their play for the docks." Flor hinted at the rolled up letter on the desk with a tap of her finger.
     Garrett's face flickered with realization. "You want her relationship with the Hammers to be ruined, which would mean no funding for the docks."
     "Which means my contacts can keep their businesses running as usual down at Wayside, and so I can continue mine as well." Flor shrugged. "Everyone stays working. Everyone's happy."
     "Everyone except the Hammers and Lady Arden."
     "True. My plan is for this letter pledging money to the Mechanists to be discovered by... certain parties. This would lead quickly to her relationship with the Hammerites being dissolved, and at the very least she'll be raising some eyebrows within Karras's inner circle... if not worse."
     Garrett scratched at his stubbled jaw again. "Impressive, I'll admit.
     The woman feigned a curtsy. "Why thank you, Master Thief."
     "Don't—"
     "Call you that. Yes, I know." Flor snickered through a crooked grin. "Can you imagine how bad that will look for her? An out of the blue proposition to Karras, without any—"
     "I try not to imagine too many things," Garrett cut in. "I'm good with what's in front of me."
     Flor shrugged. "Suit yourself."
     "You're sure your goals here aren't too lofty? It's ambitious, I'll give you that... but if things go wrong can you deal with the consequences."
     "I am sure, and if you help me, things won't go wrong."
     "Flor, if I risk my neck, there's gotta be something in it for me."
     "Of course." She sat back down at the desk and stifled a yawn before continuing. "Besides all of the shiny expensive trinkets you'd find in a manor like hers, Lady Arden also recently came into possession of a certain painting. It might as well be priceless."
     "Which painting?"
     "The Midnight Vale."
     This stopped Garrett momentarily, though he played it off effortlessly. "Really." It came out as a statement more than a question.
     "Yes."
     "The Midnight Vale?"
     Flor nodded. "Painted by the one and only Ivonaci. Nobody has ever known if that's even his—"
     "His real name, I know." Garrett watched Flor carefully. "That painting is not at Arden Manor."
     "It is now." The woman's lips parted with an ever-so-slight smile, her face looking rather wicked in the faint moonlight. "The painting has been locked away in the Baron's archives for years... but twelve nights ago, the Baron's Lord Regent held a private auction for a select few of The City's elite, and Lady Arden placed the winning bid."
     Flor peered at Garrett intently through the darkness. His jaw was clenched, and he was clearly weighing her words. She prayed silently - to The Builder, The Trickster, any unnamed deity that might perhaps be listening - that the Master Thief believed her.
     After all, she was being honest. But the fact remained: nobody else but Garrett could infiltrate Arden Manor, much less make it out in one piece.
     Garrett's chest rose and fell with a deep breath and exhale. "If you are as connected as you say you are to the dockside operations, imports, exports - you will know that Grimworth & de Perrin would never pass up an opportunity to snag that painting and sell it for four times what they paid."
    Flor rolled her eyes. "My contact is from G & de P.," she said, pronouncing the initials 'GDP.' "How the hell do you think I know about this?"
     Garrett offered a reserved grunt of approval. "Well done."
     "Look, Garrett. I'm not some down-on-her-luck barmaid pretending she can make it out there in the backstreets. I'm a professional, same as you. I didn't get where I am today by following shoddy leads and fixing shite jobs."
     "I didn't say you did." The man stood with a grunt from the edge of his bed. "But I can't help. You'll have to find someone else."
     "But no one else could possibly—"
     Garrett held up a hand. "Then find another way to bring Arden down."
     "How about for Basso's sake? We all have history. He said you're like a brother to him."
     "No, Flor. I trust him, but like you said: I don't get attached."
    "Then do it for me as a professional favor. I'll owe you. I have connections. I can help cut future jobs for you."
     "I don't doubt that, but you and Basso have nothing to do with this."
     Flor's features softened with defeat. "Garrett... please."
     "I've got a lot going on right now. I won't go into specifics because the less you know, the better - for your own sake - but you've caught me at a bad time." He gestured gently to the front door, leaving his hand lingering politely in midair. "You have to go. Please."
     Her lips were pursed, and Flor did not bother hiding her disappointment. She remained sitting.
     "Flor."
     The woman muttered something beneath her breath in frustration as she obediently got to her feet and trudged for the door. It was a strange sensation for her, opportunity slipping right through her fingers and not a damned thing she could do about it. The rain outside suddenly seemed to be louder than before.
"Ho, now. Wait," she said quietly as she turned on her heel to face him. She pulled her hood back over her head. "My business will die. My contacts will be scattered, half of them forced to leave The City. Please reconsider."
     Garrett replied with a subtle shake of his head.
     "The painting is real. I swear it."
     "Even if it were, I'm telling the truth. I would risk stretching myself too thin on other matters. I've got too much on my plate. I can't take—"
     "The public doesn't know the truth about the painting," she blurted quickly.
     "Dammit, Flor. You're not hearing me."
     "It's known as The Midnight Vale - a painting of a sacred valley beneath the midnight sky, full moon, beautiful grassy fields. It—"
     "I know what it is."
     "Just listen," Flor pleaded, her words tinged with desperation. "It's supposed to be the painting of the Lost Vale. The one the Pagans think The Trickster resides in to this day."
     "I know."
     "But it's not." Flor put a hand to Garrett's shoulder and pleaded with her eyes. "It's not," she repeated. "'Tis a lie to mislead the public and anyone looking to steal it. It's actually The Midnight Veil, like a veil a woman might wear."
     Garrett reached up to Flor's hand and removed it gently from her his shoulder.
     "The painting isn't of The Trickster's grove, but of a woman dressed in all black, her face hidden beneath a black veil. She's standing at an altar, a leafy Pagan shrine at night." Flor didn't hide the excitement in her voice. "You see? A ruse to deter some taffer from trying to nab it. Thieves have been looking for the wrong painting for decades. This thing will pay your rent for months."
     A lengthy rain-filled silence followed. Garrett had the sense that Flor was telling the truth even though her story could not be verified.
Then again, he had braved countless jobs before with no guarantee that his efforts would be lucrative, had he not?
     A condemning voice recording of Sheriff Truart was just paces away beneath his feathered pillow. He had barely come down off the adrenaline high from the bank heist the night before, and he still had to do some reconnaissance at the Truart Estate before he could actually make his move to blackmail the Sheriff.
All of this was happening so soon after framing Lieutenant Hagen for robbing the City Watch evidence vault. More risk meant more exposure, and Garrett seemed to be knee-deep in risky gambits as of late.
It was dangerous.
     "Garrett?" Flor nearly whispered. "My man on the inside told me exactly where it is. He can leave a side gate unlocked for you to get onto the grounds."
     The thief weighed her offer. Flor caught herself holding her breath as the man waged an internal war with himself that she could not see or hear.
     Garrett finally clicked his tongue after a long moment. "And all you need is Lady Arden's  seal on that letter." Again, a statement more than a question.
     Flor nodded. "That's all. Take the painting, or don't. I care not. I know you won't go somewhere that's not worth your time." She stared hard at him. "Trust me on this. This is worth your time."
     Rather reluctantly, Garrett turned his back on her and made his way to the bedside table. "Let's talk."
The woman beamed and pumped a fist in the air, nearly jumping like a child in silent celebration - careful to not let Garrett see her do so, of course. "Thank yo so, so much. You're saving more than just my skin here. You won't regret it. I promise."
This time he sat at his desk, and Flor took a seat on the edge of his bed. Garrett fetched a blank parchment from a drawer and spread it out on the desktop before uncapping the jar of ink. "Now; the estate layout. Anything you know, or that your contact has told you, I need to know. No matter how minor a detail. Leave nothing out. Understand?"
"Oh, Garrett. Did I not tell you I was a professional?" Flor presented a different scroll with a triumphant spark in her eyes. "I've got the whole floor plan right here. Official, true to scale."
The thief finally allowed a grin of his own. "How 'bout that. Maybe you know what you're doing after all."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."