Who's 4 a Treasure Read online

  Chapter 1

  Clemville

  Siege

  Her father was the greatest pickpocket ever caught, and some say her mother was the greatest pickpocket ever, but she was never caught. (I would never say anything so slanderous; I really believe she is a nice housewife who constantly received gifts of jewellery and purses of gold from admiring admirers.) After her father caught a terminal case of executioners flu and her mother took over the presidency of the quick fingers guild Samantha Ingrid Elizabeth Gail Elkton, (Siege for short, don’t ever call her Sam or she will explain exactly where her names comes from, which is one of those fates worse than death that I explained about earlier.) was on her own. Even though she was young this didn’t pose any problems. Hundreds of generations of quick finger guild inbreeding had produced an almost magical being in Siege. Without her knowledge, people around her would lose things that would mysteriously turn up in her pockets. If by some chance the person in question suddenly noticed the fifteen silver guineas were missing, she would be the last person questioned. (Sorry that was a bit of a lie. She would never be questioned. It reminds me of the case of Giant Bob’s gold half piece. Bob was in the process of paying his tab at the Swill and Donkey. He had just handed the coin to Guness when it disappeared. Even though they searched us all thoroughly, and I mean rubber glove thorough, they never even looked at her. Not ten minutes later she bought us all a round, from Guness, in front of Bob, using the gold half piece and they never even batted an eyelid.)

  These days she is a little more cautious of who she walks too close to. I believe she has turned out quite beautiful, you know long flowing red hair, stunning body, a smile that would melt a glacier etc. etc. However I find it very difficult to remember what she looks like when I’m not in her presence. Even when I am in her presence I find it hard to look directly at her. I know it sounds strange but it’s like looking at someone through the bottom of your fifth tankard of ale. Truth is it doesn’t matter whether or not I can see her to tell you her part in the story.

  It began like all good stories, with the weather! It was what us Clemville locals like to call a perfect day. The wind was gently blowing, (I think you call it a force two gale, but if you can stand upright we call it a gentle breeze), the clouds were kindly spitting a light drizzle and the sun had just set below the smog inversion layer. Siege held her long black coat closed around her as she scurried down the street. (Like everything the rain and wind tended to ignore her. Still she acted like everyone around, just in case someone saw her, which, as I mentioned earlier, was highly unlikely.) She was on an urgent mission. Clemville’s Goth Clock had just rung five times and Lord Fanger’s Bathhouse closed at six. For someone that dirt had trouble seeing, let alone attaching itself to, she spent a lot of time washing. She was the only person, outside of the nobility that had her own indoor shower. But if she didn’t go to Lord Fanger’s at least once a day, she didn’t feel clean.

  She entered the bathhouse and paid the attendant. When she left her house she didn’t have a cent on her, but by the time she had walk the nearly deserted streets she had enough money to spend a year in the baths. Everyone in the bathhouse ignored her, including the attendants, so it was lucky that she had somehow picked up a towel, bar of soap, shampoo, conditioner and a bottle of Channel No.7 the perfume for the discerning lady about town. (I still don’t believe that the water of the Valmic River, even if channel seven is nearly impossible to get to, should be rubbed, dabbed or otherwise brought within ten feet of a human body. I suppose that the stagnant water smell is all the rage up on Bullion Hill, where you can’t smell the real thing. Besides Siege thought it made her smell classy.)

  The sun had set by the time she left. As it was a Friday night a lot of college students were hitting the streets for a wild night on the town. She took great care to avoid the poor revellers. (Everyone knows that students that can afford a decent night on the town tend to head uphill where they are less likely to be robbed, stabbed, raped, or beaten to a pulp or any combination of the above. The advantage of down town is that it’s cheap and they are not likely to check a paying customers ID.) She had to duck down quite a few dark alleys, but she made it home without her pockets jangling too much. She sat down and started to eat the packed supper she found in one of her pockets. (If you don’t already hate her, here is one more reason: She can eat anything she likes without putting on weight. Like everything else fat has trouble finding her.) After finishing her dinner she started her nightly ritual of going through her pockets. (All the money she finds gets donated to the Sisters of Questionable Virtue, unless she has to pay rent or buy a new dress or buy something that doesn’t fit in a pocket. Basically the Sisters get very little in the way of donations from Siege, but it's alright as they have their own lucrative business, in which men get to question their virtue.) On the night this adventure starts, she found a leather bound scroll. As it was in a language she couldn’t read, she knew she would have to go down to the Swill and Donkey and get her good friend Tricks to translate it for her.