Page 50 of The Swindler’s Daughter

Johnny and Tyson looked at each other. “Does he have servants?” Johnny asked. “He came from the working class.”

We all looked at each other, waiting for someone to have an answer. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “But it’s something we’ll need to find out. It won’t do any good to sneak in when he’s gone if he has a maid or a manservant about the house.”

Everyone nodded.

“How are we going to keep from being recognized?” Tyson asked.

“Our first objective should be not to let anyone see us,” Rowan answered. “But we should also wear hooded cloaks.”

I nodded. “Those will shield our faces as well as hide our shape and the state of our clothing. But you must resist any inclination to creep about and look as if you are trying to be sneaky. If we are seen, we have to appear as though we are completely comfortable with where we are and why.”

The others started chattering amongst themselves, and while I tried to follow the conversation, I was distracted when Rowan spoke low in my ear. “You have a brilliant mind for details and planning.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “Do I?”

He nodded. “You ask the questions that need to be asked.”

I gave him a wry smile, fighting my way past my nerves. “I hope I can be of some use. I’m not skilled enough with a bow to help in that way.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the only practiced thief among us.”

His statement was correct, and it took me a moment to decide how I felt about it. I’d been ashamed of my past for so long that I had to consciously decide that such a description didn’t have to be a bad thing. I had a skill set that could help, and as that idea sank in, a plan started to take shape in my mind. We all needed to lean into our strengths, and my strength was going unobserved and unnoticed.

***

I should not have been so calm. Walking down High Street with the intent of robbing the house of the magistrate should not have made me calm.

Old habits are hard to shake, and this was habit.

Oliver and John were already in position across the street from Reeve’s home. Though Tyson had been unable to come with us today, he had been the one to come two days ago, watching Reeve’s dwelling for any sign of servants. There had been none. Oliver was sitting slumped against a building, looking for all the world like he was a napping urchin, his cloak pulled tight around him and his hood covering his face. John was leaning on his staff, looking at the display of leather items hanging outside the tannery. It was odd to think of him as John, but after sitting in on the group’s planning and hearing Rowan call him that so many times, it had stuck.

I slipped into the space between Reeve’s home and the tavern next to it. Rowan waited for me there, having already pried Reeve’s window open. I stepped into his laced hands and allowed him to boost me up and through the window. He followed quickly and quietly behind me.

We crouched down, scanning our surroundings. It wasn’t a large dwelling, and we had entered what must have been the only bedchamber. There was an open door leading to the combined living area and kitchen. Inside the chamber was a bed, a side table, a chair in the corner, a single wardrobe, and two large trunks that took up nearly an entire wall.

They were enormous. When I’d heard that Reeve had commissioned trunks, I’d imagined small traveling trunks, not these monstrosities. If they did in fact contain the stolen goods of the villagers, there was no way we could reclaim the goods by walking out with the trunks.

I cast that thought aside. Retrieval would have to be done at a different time. Our objective today was simply to ascertain whether or not Reeve was keeping his hoard here.

Rowan crossed to one of the trunks and tried to lift one side. After several moments of strained silence, he gave up, shaking his head.

I stepped in, pulling several pins from my hair. I slipped them into the large lock that secured the trunk and worked them carefully around, moving one then the other until the mechanism inside clicked and the lock yielded.

I grinned and quickly removed it. Rowan was there by my side. “Like I said. Amazing.”

I looked over at him and he gave me a wink before helping me lift the lid.

“Laws,” I breathed in awe, reaching out a hand to touch the mound of coins and valuables that filled the trunk.

A gasp sounded behind us.

I looked in the direction of the gasp and saw a young maid standing in the doorway, staring at us, her eyes wide. Rowan jumped to his feet as she dropped the rag she’d been holding, her mouth wide open, ready to scream. Rowan clamped a hand over her mouth and maneuvered her toward the wardrobe, which he opened and quickly stuffed her inside.

I shook off my surprise and went to grab the chair, dragging it over to block the wardrobe’s door, but there was no blocking the sound of her shouts.

We rushed to the window. “I thought there was no maid,” I lamented.

“She must be new,” Rowan said.