Stealing the Sun

The thief had been calculating, cold, and precise. Most of all, he'd been well-prepared. Looking at the room, one would hardly have noted that any larceny had taken place. Everything was still in order, nothing upturned, nothing broken, nothing out of place. He knew precisely what he wanted. The only indication that anything was amiss was a single open drawer in an ill-regarded armoire- and this was only open because the inspector had opened it himself, to observe the absence of something crucial to the scene...

The Baron had been vain, true enough. He dressed his wife in fineries, put her on display. And when his wife tired of a thing he troubled to put it on display elsewhere in the estate to assure his hard-spent resources did not go to waste. He'd had the necklace placed in a leaded glass case in a side chamber of the estate's master ballroom, ad when he entertained guests he was keen to show them a sampling of one of the greatest gifts he'd bestowed so graciously on his beloved wife.

It was a beautiful piece, the necklace. Studded with a great many precious and semi-precious gems, any one of which was worth a serf's life savings. But the crowning stone- the one that outshined the rest- was an iridescent fire opal. A fluke of nature, and yet stunning in it's perfection, the gem had a shifting radiant core- perhaps only a consequence of how the light was refracted among it's various facets, but beautiful to behold nonetheless. Having the stone cut alone cost a king's ransom. The stone was not set in the necklace in the traditional way, either. Instead the setting was an englamored one, ensuring that the gem could not be separated from it's housing.

And here, in the midst of all this, stood a proud but troubled figure of a woman. She fretted and furrowed her brow as she watched the inspector go about his business.

"Are you quite done yet Inspector General?"

The ruddy-haired Sin'dorei exhaled a near-inaudible sigh of frustration, "Your Ladyship, these are delicate matters, and while I certainly respect your right to be present to..." he chose his next words with care, "observe, I would really rather prefer that you wait in some other area of the estate. There is contamination of the scene to be considered here-"

She cut him off, "You have a job to do, Inspector, and I'm quite sure you are good at it, else you would not be here," she crossed her arms for emphasis, "I am also sure that you are quite capable of working around me. What do you have to report thus far?"

The Baroness' husband had been vain, true enough, but he wasn't entirely a fool, "The decoy the Baron had deployed in the adjunct master ballroom is untouched," he rubbed his temple in thought- a desperate attempt to wrap his mind around all the variables, "our man knew what he wanted, and he knew it wasn't here..." he paused, wincing visibly as he asked, "Are you quite sure my Lordship has no enemies?"

"What silly sort of amateur question is that, Inspector? Of course he has enemies- he's a Baron." she frowned, darting the inspector a disgusted glance, "And the sentry?"

"Disabled," he replied flatly, "I would dearly love to tell my Ladyship how, but engineering is not my area of expertise, we're having a Goblin chap in forensics look it over, so far he has nothing to offer save that it just stopped working".

"Well what good are you then inspector?" and with that sentiment she stormed out in a huff.

Just as well, thought Inspector General Haldenai, she was definately contaminating my concentration if not the scene...

A jet-maned young Sin'dorei leaned against the doorway to the Silvermoon City Inn on the Murder Row side. Sharp emerald eyes pierced the gloom of the darkened alley and a finely wrought neckerchief was drawn up over his mouth and finely sculpted nose. Locks dark as pitch spill from the crown of his head, obscuring the rest of his features. He glances at the other man, his only company, in the dark alley... his only visible company, at any rate. Sane men don't lurk here after dark... probably precisely because sane men didn't lurk there after dark.

The young elf idly pondered whether or not the other man would recognize him, or at least attempt to ascertain his identity, then thought better of it. Drunkards seldom got curious unless it had the scent of their next dram on it, and this chap had clearly had a few too many.

He raised the small roll of parchment to his lips and inhaled gingerly, the scent of the bloodthistle filling his nose, tickling his pallete. The tendrils of fragrant smoke relaxed him, and made his senses sharper. He gave over a moment to thinking about his mark. Terrible shame really, such a lovely and lonely woman. Her husband away on diplomatic business and her left all alone. What sort of scoundrel would take advantage of such a fine and proud flower of a woman?

"I would," he murmured to himself, and to his captive audience- inebriated and unconscious. A sly self-satisfied smirk spread across concealed lips.

He fingered the necklace, safely tucked into a small velvet pouch inside a satchel at his side. It would fetch a pretty shiny fee, considering what small trials and tribulations he had put himself through in acquiring it. Now if only his prospective buyer would arrive he could get on to the real business at hand: fencing it for the highest price possible. He nudged the drunk with his boot wistfully, "That's going to be one fel of a hangover old bean..."

He'd gone through three more delicately rolled pipettes of the thistle and nearly an entire book of matches with the Silvermoon City Inn branded upon them when he finally heard the click-clack of approaching footsteps on cobble, he put the last one out and straightened his mask. He glanced through the gloam of the alley, spying the gaunt form, the pained steps. In any circle of circumstance than this, it might even be called a shamble, of sorts...

He was used to it. So many of them in the city nowadays. They skulked in all sorts of corners, though surprisingly enough, had the wisdom to stay out of this particular one. The customer was hooded and be-cowled- had decided to do him one better apparently, no matter, he was used to this as well. Let them play at cloak-and-dagger if they like... if it makes them feel better.

The shadow approached, and with an oddly high-pitched rasp asked a simple question, "Do you have it?"

"What sort of master thief would I be if I didn't?" the waif of a Sin'dorei lad retorted.

The other figure scoffed visibly, but said nothing.

"The real question is," the brigand said, smiling now not so much with his mouth as with his eyes, "do you have it?"

"No," the other replied bluntly.

"Oh? Well now that is a bit of a traipse now isn't it?" mocked the dark-haired Sin'dorei.

"You don't know the half of it," answered the shade, casting off her hood and cowl and glaring at the ne'er-do-well before her.

The knave in him fought to suppress another broad smirk, "Your Ladyship... what an unexpected surprise!"