The moonlight pierced the coloured panes of glass, casting unnatural shadows across the museum’s tiled floor. Glass cases stood like sentinels in the shadowy room; smaller cases circling the large centrepiece. There, upon a velvet cushion of the deepest green, lay the necklace, glittering through the dark even though the watery moonlight sparse touched its intricately cut gems. It was protected by the most secure spells, alarms and magical devices that had ever been discovered in an attempt to render it absolutely secure from thieves. Cassian’s eyes glinted with the delight of the challenge; he may not be the greatest of all thieves ever to have lived, but he was the best of the age, a master of deception and deceit, he used everything and everyone to get what he wanted, and he wanted that necklace.

Removing one brown glove, he gently traced his slender finger in a small circle just beside the window lock. A thin, hairline crack followed the curve; merely the smallest imperfection in the glass and the most intelligent and powerful wizards hadn’t been clever enough to anticipate it. Cassian had to admit that, even for his own standards, it had been a stroke of genius – through one of his many contacts he had discovered exactly what, and how, the wizards had laid security precautions around The Damita Necklace, for days he had sat in despair, unable to believe or accept that someone had finally beaten him. Until, suddenly, in a stroke of pure, unadulterated magnificence, he had realised the dopey wizards hadn’t safeguarded the most obvious of entrances.

That was the problem with wizards, he thought smugly as he carefully levered the glass out of the window, too proud for their own good, he snorted quietly, probably thought it was below them to create a simple charm that prevented a thief from entering one of the upper windows of the large chamber. He slipped his wrist through the small hole and unlocked the catch; it was stiff and rusted from years of disuse – for who would ever be able to, or even want to unlock a window over 30 feet off the ground? Nobody, well, almost nobody.

Cassian pushed the window open slowly, praying for hinges that didn’t squeak; as usual the fates were on his side. Balancing precariously upon the narrow sill Cassian extracted from the pocket of his coat, a small, thin box. Carefully opening the lid he blew gently across the surface, immediately a silver shimmering powder floated down below. As the powder fell it began to form lines crisscrossing the whole chamber until a perfect image of exactly where the triggers for the wizards’ alarms was shown.

Grinning arrogantly Cassian put the box away, leaning dangerously back out of the window he called down in a soft voice,

“Brice! Brice, come on - get up here you lazy brute!” Soon the soft patter of claws against a stonewall could be heard and a small, red lizard with wings appeared next to Cassian on the sill. The snapdragon looked down at the mighty drop below then back at his master. Cassian sighed with irritation; he never could understand why a dragon, of all things, was afraid of heights.

“Brice – just get on with it.” With a defiant flick of his scaled tail Brice tilted nervously towards the edge of the sill. Losing patience all together (and being a young man of very little patience to begin with) Cassian pushed Brice off the edge, receiving a hurt look before Brice’s bony wings spread and he skilfully avoided the silver-coated spells to glide above the weight-sensitive floor. Flapping his wings occasionally to remain at the same height, Brice hovered in front of the small engraving of intricate symbols, cut into a panel by the two main doors that led out into the rest of the museum.

Everybody knew that Wizards loved to show off their knowledge of runes and the ones who had created the security devices had been just as foolhardy and proud. In order to disarm the spells and charms one had to type in a certain number of runes in the right order on the panel by the doors. Brice gave the panel one scornful look before inhaling deeply and letting out a little puff of flame. The panel sizzled and melted and the powder fell once more on its path to the floor as the spells were deactivated. Cassian shook his head again, wizard pride; they just refused to acknowledge that dragon flame, in even the smallest, weakest amount, was enough to disarm even the most powerful of their pre-prepared spells.

Taking a deep breath Cassian jumped from the sill, as he fell he called upon his not-so-human powers to break his fall. He rolled harmless onto the floor and straightened up, Brice landed on his shoulder and settled himself comfortably around Cassian’s neck. But Cassian wasn’t paying any attention to Brice; his gaze remained transfixed upon the object that lay before him, almost in his grasp – The Damita Necklace. On a small, gold-edged card read the words,

THE DAMITA NECKLACE

Discovered over five centuries ago by a group of dwarfs digging in a deserted mine. It is believed to have once belonged to a Queen or Princess and contains no less than 100 semi-precious stones and over 50 precious gems. The craftsmanship is believed to be elfish and the stones are set in the purest silver; it is thought to be the only design of its kind.

But Cassian ignored the card, he already knew it off by heart; he had been preparing for this for weeks, it would truly make him the greatest and youngest thief that had ever or would ever live! He carefully stepped over the railing surrounding the pillar on which the case stood. He knew that the Necklace had its own security, powerful dark spells that couldn’t be turned off. Once again he extracted the small box, blowing the silver powder around the case but it just fell to the floor and lay there. Exhaling nervously he put away the silver powder and took out a second box, smaller and apparently devoid of any contents whatsoever, yet he blew gently across the surface and almost immediately a delicate pattern of red criss-crossed lines came into view within the glass case. Cassian frowned as he put the second box away; red lines meant very powerful dark magic and Cassian was always careful to avoid as much contact as possible with any magics; he would have to be careful – but he was Cassian Sligh, he had been thieving since he could remember. Nothing could stop him now; he wouldn’t let anything stop him now.

Wiping a trickle of sweat from below the green band he wore round his head to keep back his uncontrollable, deep red hair, Cassian delicately began tracing his finger across the surface of the case. One by one small pieces of glass were remove until all that was left of the case was a fragile skeleton, glass only remaining where a beam fell across it and a few remaining supports to stop what was left of the case collapsing.

Cassian reached into yet another pocket and withdrew a long piece of metal with a hook at the end. Slowly and skilfully he placed the rod into the case and slipped the hook beneath the necklace. Mouth a hard line of concentration, he slowly raised the rod; the necklace nearly slipped but somehow caught on the very tip of the hook, wobbling precariously for a few seconds before settling into the deep curve – the fates were with him again. Inch by painstaking inch, he moved the necklace closer to the edge of the skeleton case.

Suddenly a large crash sounded from down the hall and at least three pairs of footsteps pounding nearer. He heard men’s voices, loud and out of breath; he froze necklace still dangling dangerously from the end of the hook,

“Stop! Thief! Somebody sound the alarm!” The voices came from just outside the door but continued further down the corridor, Cassian allowed himself to breath again – they hadn’t discovered him, yet. He wondered who else was trying to rob the museum that night, and whether that person was after the same thing?

His gaze fell once more upon the beautiful necklace; he cast one last daredevil glance at the closed door then began inching the necklace towards him again. He didn’t stop when he heard the footsteps come back, he didn’t dare, he was so close, just one more inch, just one…

The heavy doors swung open with force and crashed violently against the walls, then several disastrous occurrences happened almost simultaneously. A tall, spindly shape dashed haphazardly from the open door way and collided like a cannon into Cassian’s stomach, sending them crashing to the floor, the necklace fell onto the edge of the display case, severing one of the red beams and the long echoing halls of the City Museum rang with the catastrophe that was the alarm. Pounding footsteps began again, this time in a greater multitude.

Swearing grotesquely Cassian struggled to detach himself from his opponent, who seemed to have a startling abundance of arms and legs, most of which were curled round his own.

“For Fates get off me!” He hissed loudly, his opponent groaned pathetically but still managed to roll off Cassian’s bruised form. Cassian jumped to his feet, cursing again as the footsteps grew solidly louder in volume. His opponent also struggled to his feet.

Cassian turned to glare at him; his assailant was nearly as tall as he, which at six foot was no mean feat and was covered in black from head to toe; in the darkness Cassian couldn’t even see his eyes, just dark hollows visible through a slit in a dark scarf wrapped around his assailant’s head and face. Cassian noticed that he also clasped something to his chest protectively.

What really worried Cassian however was the fact that his assailant had seen his face and, although he had heard no gasp of recognition, Cassian knew his appearance was slightly more unique than some and he was well known to the guards in cities all across the western world. The last thing Cassian needed was to have his face all over wanted posters again; he was fed up with having to go underground and was determined to avoid it at all costs, this particular cost being his assailant’s silence.

What a pity, he thought sarcastically; if I had fewer morals I could just kill him and get out of here. Fortunately for the thief before him Cassian didn’t have an abundance of morals but did contain a few well-placed ones; more than he was prepared to admit to in any case, so, grabbing the other man’s wrist Cassian dragged him to a broad pillar beside the door and pulled him down beside him, allowing himself only one regretful glance at the Damita necklace now lying out of reach and hope.

His opponent was either too scared or too intelligent to argue with Cassian’s choice of hiding place and simply crouched behind Cassian, silent and concealed by shadows. Heavy footsteps entered the room, Cassian counted about three pairs but he wasn’t sure. From under his coat he quietly slipped a short rod about an inch thick, he fumbled with the stick for a short while until it extended into a long pole.

The lights flicked on and one pair of footsteps approached the pillar where they crouched, tense and unmoving. Cassian moved suddenly and fluidly, rising and turning outwards to face the guard. Swinging the pole in a wide arch he brought it crashing into the guards knees and he fell, with a shout of pain, to the floor.

The stranger remained half-crouched behind the pillar, half-risen into the room, he watched with amazement and more than a little admiration as Cassian swung and lunged, moving with the grace of one fully trained in the art of street fighting. Soon two goblins and a twarf (a half-breed between a troll and dwarf – not a great success as they tended to be as short as a dwarf, as thick as a troll and looked oddly out of proportion with excessively bulging muscles) lay in a useless, untidy heap across the floor, many covered in bruises from the staff and small painful burns from the snapdragon, now whirling in the air around Cassian’s head and letting out strange squeaks of triumph.

“Well are you coming or not?” Cassian growled from the doorway, as the man stared, seemingly transfixed by the sight of Brice. The stranger hesitated for a moment and Cassian heard more footsteps approaching, “Tough.” He muttered and lunged forward, grabbing the stranger unexpectedly by the arm. Flicking the light off he dashed out through the corridor, dragging his less than willing assailant behind him. The stranger struggled uselessly for a few minutes of dashing through corridor after corridor, until realising that his strength didn’t match that of his kidnapper.

They sprinted down a maze of corridors, making wild turns away from the echoes of approaching footsteps. Before long every hall seemed to ring with the stamp of boot upon marble and they were running out of places to run to. Eventually Cassian skidded to a halt beside a large stained-glass window, the vibrant colours shimmered in the moonlight depicting disturbing patterns with a silvery glow, the stranger glanced at the window then at Cassian with horror but before he could utter a word of protest Cassian had removed his glove and ran his fingers along the glass in swift, unplanned strokes; the glass fell to the marble floor and shattered. The stranger flinched at the sound and backed away when Cassian motioned out of the empty space, where the window had once been, with his bare hand.

Cassian smiled wryly and rather unpleasantly in the semi-darkness; people who found out about his ability often reacted like that. Though Cassian looked human enough that wasn’t the only blood that flowed through his veins and many couldn’t deal with the truth of his ancestry; he wasn’t sure he could either. He grabbed at the stranger anyway and pushed him out through the window frame, the stranger’s foot got caught and he fell heavily to the ground. His startled, high cry of pain filled the air briefly then Cassian had landed agilely beside him and was tugging him away down the darkened street.

Cassian didn’t stop running until they were completely submerged in a labyrinth of side alleys. He stopped and panted heavily; the stranger appeared to have fared quite a bit worse and sat collapsed upon the ground, still clasping his precious artefact to his chest. Deciding that he would press his point home before he disappeared into the night, Cassian dragged the stranger ruthlessly through an open doorway. Gripping him tightly by the elbow Cassian motioned to Brice to light several abandoned lanterns. As the room flickered into semi-brightness Cassian turned to glare at his assailant,

“You fool! Do you realise what you have just cost me! Do you?” He repeated, shaking the stranger as the extent of his failure sank in. The stranger, who had been staring at the floor, raised his eyes; Cassian paused for a moment, totally disturbed by the colour. Deep, deep green, so deep that it seemed to stretch into the man’s soul, accompanied by slight flicks of dark gold and framed by dark lashes, tears streamed from the slightly slanted corners into the thick material of the scarf; Cassian pulled back in disgust,

“Honestly man – stop crying! You’re acting like a girl!” This comment, instead of stopping the flow, merely increased it and Cassian, with a terrible sinking feeling stretched out a hand to the end of the scarf that obscured the stranger’s face.

The stranger stepped away quickly but fell backwards over an upturned box that had once contained something called ‘Sprite’s Spirit’, unable to break his fall with his hands, as they were still clasping the artefact, he hit the hard floor with a thud and a heavy crash and, Cassian noted with a spreading sensation of doom, which was little better than the sinking feeling only moments before, a thoroughly feminine gasp of pain.

“Fates be cursed!” He swore, “You’re a bloody woman!” She made no move from her spread-eagled position on the floor and no sound but a strangled sob, Cassian backed away uneasily; if there was one thing he had learnt it was to avoid weepy women, they caused nothing but trouble when the tears started to fall!

“Yes, well, just don’t say you saw me…” He mumbled backing toward the door, she didn’t move, “Best of luck and all that, um,” Cassian looked helplessly at her shaking figure and swore eloquently in his head, even as he edged cautiously back towards her,

“Look – are you, I mean, you’re not hurt?” His only reply was silence. Sighing heavily he stood over her; she had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, raising his own skyward he sat down upon the dusty floor beside her; she flinched away.

Eventually, after quite some time, Cassian’s impatience and irritation at loosing the most precious necklace ever made won out over uneasiness,

“Are you getting up or not?” Green-gold eyes snapped open to glare up at him,

“Mmph, frupht smphly swrophg.” She replied,

“What?” Cassian demanded, she simply shook her head and sat up gingerly. Cassian noticed that she was reluctant to release even one hand from the package she clasped to her stomach, deciding that enough was enough and that an advantage shouldn’t be ignored, he moved as quickly as he could, snatching the end of the scarf and yanking it off her head entirely.

“Ow!” Came the indignant response, clear as the mouth was now uncovered. The incredible eyes glared at him from a thin, pale face with a light sprinkling of freckles. Not a beautiful face, Cassian thought dispassionately, but not ugly; just plain, a mop of thick, light brown hair tumbled to her shoulders and she had a wide mouth which was currently pressed into a tight, annoyed line, the annoyance, he noted with lazy amusement, directed mainly at him.

“That hurt you know!”

“Oh, so it has a voice.” He replied, grinning lazily; this plain waif was no threat to him and she had caused him more than enough grief that night to deserve at least some grief in return, maybe more, Cassian thought lazily looking at the artefact she clasped to her.

“Yes it does.” She replied primly, wiping her face on her upper arm, never letting go of the parcel.

“What have you got there?” Cassian asked, curiosity getting the better of him. The girl glanced down at the parcel then back up at Cassian, seemingly terrified,

“I, its, its nothing.” She blurted out, her lower lip wobbling dangerously,

“Oh God, you’re not going to cry again are you?” Cassian demanded, his words sounding harsh and cruel even to himself; after all she was just a skinny little creature and an abysmal thief. Much to his surprise the green eyes didn’t fill with tears once more, as he had expected they would, instead he was met with blazing fury,

“If I am, and I don’t see how it’s any business of yours and, as a matter of fact, if I do – it’s your fault!” Cassian stared at the transformation of the pathetic creature who was glaring irately at him; and began to wonder what he had got himself into. “Anyhow it’s none of your concern, now if you’ll excuse me…” She clambered slowly to her feet wincing as bruises, acquired from her numerous liaisons with the floor, ached uncomfortably. Cassian hopped agilely to his own feet and backed quickly away; there was something about the strange girl that set off warning bells in his head, and he had learned, long ago, to trust his instincts. As she made toward him he raised his staff protectively, she glanced at his cowardly action and sneered before walking past, albeit rather gingerly, to the open door.

Cassian don’t know why he did it, later he would think it one of the most stupid things he had ever done in his life, and he had done a few, but some devil in him couldn’t allow the insult to pass, especially not from a girl who had just cost him the theft and infamy of centuries.

He made it to the door just before she did, lounging against the wooden frame he brought the stick down in front of her before she made it out the door, effectually blocking her path,

“What do you think you’re do…” But Cassian interrupted her,

“ I think that, at the very least, you owe me a thank you.”

“Oh yes?” Her eyes blazed and Cassian began to find teasing her quite alluring; she was such an easy target! “And why is that?” He grinned lazily at her, showing rows of perfect white teeth,

“Well, let me see… Oh yes; I saved your sorry butt back there.” He cocked his head to one side; having been told it made him look infuriatingly handsome – it didn’t work. Instead the girl bit her lip, her forehead wrinkled in a frown,

“Yes, I suppose I do – thank you.” She tried to duck under the stick, Cassian, still slightly surprised that she had offered her thanks so quickly and sincerely, almost didn’t stick out his leg in time. She straightened up again,

“What now?” She demanded, the irate sparkle returning, “I’ve already said ‘thank you’!”

“I know.” Cassian said, unable to resist stoking her ire one more time, “But you have an unfair advantage.”

“I can’t possibly imagine what that could be.” She answered distractedly, peering out into the darkness. Now Cassian didn’t spend a lot of time around women, especially none as young as the one before him, but when he did he expected their full attention and that was what he usually got – but not this time.

“You know who I am but I have no idea who you are.” He replied, throwing caution to the winds, she glanced at him, confused,

“I don’t know who you are.” Cassian frowned,

“Oh come on – surely you’ve recognised me…” he shifted, striking different poses and facial expressions, “Look, how about this,” He tried to look as dangerous as some of his wanted posters, and was totally disgruntled when she just raised an eyebrow,

“Look, that’s a very good impression of a fish but I…”

“A fish!” Cassian spluttered, “Why you ungrateful kid, I saved you from the museum!”

“Yes and I’m very glad you did but I have to go now…” Ordinarily Cassian would have been glad to see the back of her but now that she wanted to go he certainly wasn’t going to oblige her,

“Do you realise what you prevented me from…”

“Stealing.” The girl interjected helpfully, he did not smile,

“The Damita Necklace!” She looked blank, “You know, the most exquisite and expensive necklace ever made…oh fine!”

“If it’s the most exquisite and expensive isn’t it well known?”

“Your point?”

“Well, wouldn’t it have been hard to sell it on.” Cassian laughed bitterly, deciding to enlighten the naïve kid,

“God – you really are an amateur aren’t you? There are gang lords and people who would pay a fortune for it on the black-market.”

“Oh.” She looked at him disapprovingly, he shifted nervously,

“You’re a thief too!” He added defensively, then when she said nothing, “Look are you sure you don’t know me? Cassian Sligh – Master Thief, infamous thief, ringing any bells? She shook her head, “Great – just great.” He removed his staff from her way and slumped down on a box in the corner, the picture of dejection.

“I’m not even infamous,” he complained to himself, “all that I’ve done and not even a little recognition!”

The girl made as if to leave but glanced at the slumped figure and felt a swelling of pity; the young man looked only a couple of years older than her and he obviously only had thieving for a living, though why he would want to be infamous she couldn’t imagine; then again, many of the things she had seen over the past months had made little sense to her anyway.

“Look – I’m sure many other people will have heard of you, just, well you’re probably asking the wrong person.”

“Yeah, right.” Cassian raised his head from his hands, “Where are you from then?” The girl winced but one look at his desolated face was enough,

“There is, was, a village, a human village. We, there wasn’t a lot of news from the outside world, we kept ourselves to ourselves.” She stumbled hesitantly, not knowing why she had the sudden impulse to talk about it with a ‘master thief’ no less.

Cassian stared at the girl; her face was very pale and she was staring into the distance with a pained expression, her obvious use of the past tense struck him. She glanced at him and flashed a brief smile,

“I’m not a thief.” Cassian thought, I could have told you that, but said nothing, “I’ve never really been in a city as big as this before, I, I’m going somewhere important to, find, something, and…” she glanced at the parcel in her arms,

“You needed whatever that is.” Cassian finished for her, she nodded jerkily and turned away,

“So, you see, you probably are well known, just not by me.” She walked out the door, Cassian stared after her touched by her kindness; there weren’t many people who had as much kindness as she had just shown him in their whole being, but he also knew something else – she wasn’t going to be able to survive a day in the city; too innocent, too naïve, too gullible – like Cassian really cared that one person hadn’t heard about him. He grinned; his acting had been superb, so brilliant that she hadn’t suspected a thing! She had been so convinced that she had poured out some of her heart in order to try and comfort him – the fool! Something that felt suspiciously like a conscious tugged at Cassian’s gut; he ignored it and stood up from the box.

He unfolded what he had extracted from the girl’s parcel, leaving her with the brown paper hugged tightly to her chest. His eyes shone with delight; the girl may not be a thief but she certainly knew how to pick out things of value. Held in his hands lay the most beautiful stretch of tapestry he had ever seen, spiralling colours of gold and red and green and blue were woven in an intricate pattern; the tapestry was glorious. Strange symbols were depicted with the heavenly thread but Cassian didn’t even recognise the language, the tapestry itself must have been ancient, a relic from some destroyed dimension perhaps, or a broken civilisation.

Whistling softly to Brice he strolled out into the alley, grinning as the Fates smiled down upon him once more.