The Thief of Shagrim

Afeek stood beneath the walls of the palace, wondering numbly if he had insulted the Gods in some way. He had a fresh headache, brought on by lack of sleep, and his fur looked as if it had been used to clean a dirty sword.

The day had been spent dreaming of horrible ways in which the Sultan would put him to death, none of which had served to brighten his spirits, and the night had loomed like an axe over his head.

The brown stone of the Palace wall stared at him mockingly. Afeek sniffed. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered. "I know what I'm doing."

He unwound a coil of rope from his shoulders and swung the grapnel up to the top of the wall. He shinnied up quickly then settled back to survey his route. There was a small round window about halfway up the southwestern tower. He had spotted it the day before, and decided that it was as good a place as any. Besides, if it turned out to be full of the Sultan's guards, he could always jump back out and save them the trouble of killing him.

He clambered down into the palace grounds, scratching himself on a rose thorn as he landed. He grumbled under his breath and glanced at his surroundings. Plants and flowers grew in profusion around the area, adding vibrant colour to the gardens during the day. It was lost on the young Katrin; he had never understood why the Gods had seen fit to create wildlife in the first place. He glanced towards the palace and skittered through the greenery in the direction of the tower.

The tower was one of those annoying structures that had very few handholds for climbing. Such buildings had always annoyed him; it showed very poor thought on the part of the architect, and it was selfish in the bargain. Even a thief had to survive somehow.

He glanced up at the window and set about the task of climbing up. It was easier than he thought, and he was soon hanging from the sill and peering curiously through the grimy glass. He could see no guards, but the room beyond was very dark, and there could be any number of men hiding in wait for him. After a moments deliberation he decided he was being silly. Not even the Sultan's guards were stupid enough to wait in a dark room just in case someone broke in. Besides, his arms were killing him.

He pulled himself up and pushed on the window. Surprisingly, it swung open and Afeek went in, wondering if the Gods had had a change of mind, or if this was a sick joke and they knew something he didn't. He decided it was probably the latter, judging from past events.

The room was almost pitch black, and the young Katrin moved forward slowly, his arms outstretched like a blind man. He spent a few moments bumping into objects, and muttering curses, before finally reaching the door. He opened it carefully and peered through.

Beyond was a long, straight passageway, brightly lit and furnished with all the priceless objects an obscenely rich man like the Sultan could afford. It was a thief's heaven, and for a moment Afeek's head reeled. It was a condition the Katrin had experienced before and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself as he slipped out into the corridor.

Breathing heavily he looked both ways and decided upon the left. It looked much the same as the right, but he had seen a priceless Ainan vase in that direction, and he didn't trust his hands. He padded along the corridor with as much noise as a mouse across a thick rug. It was commonly agreed by most people that the Katrin race had been specifically designed with thievery in mind. They had the agility of a cat, and all the moral conscience of an Ogre with a headache. Afeek had never argued the point; thieving was in his blood, though he was seriously considering a change in careers; if he escaped here alive of course.

At the end of the corridor was a T-junction. Again both ways looked the same but Afeek decided to turn to the right. It made sense, as he knew the Sultan's private chambers were located somewhere in the centre of the Palace, and that was his destination.

His idea of the night before still made him giddy with excitement, and nauseous with fear. The Sceptre was kept with the Sultan! It was the only possible solution. Nowhere in the palace was better guarded than wherever the Sultan was at that particular time and it also meant that he could keep the object on permanent display. It would be kept safe, but also satisfy the ruler's immense ego. It was genius, and Afeek was rather proud of himself for thinking of it. He only wished that he could have been wrong.

He reached the end of the corridor. Up to now things had gone well, unbelievably well, but as rounded the corner, his luck changed. The captain of the guards grinned at him with a look that meant his kidney removal would only be the start of his troubles.

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