The Thief Lord

"Yes, here's to you, Prop!" Scipio said, now also raising his glass. "Herewith I name you my chief loot-seller. However," he fondled the wad of money with his fingers, "I'm thinking that it might be wise to take a break after a raid like this." For a moment he fell silent and then added, "A thief should never become too greedy, or he'll get caught."



"But you can't stop -- not just now!" Riccio pretended not to notice Prosper's fierce warning glance. "Barbarossa told us something interesting today."



"And what was that?" Scipio popped an olive into his mouth and spat the pit into his hand.



"A customer of his is looking for a thief. The deal is supposed to be very good, and we're supposed to ask you whether you'd be interested."



Scipio gave Riccio a surprised look -- but remained silent.



"Sounds good, doesn't it?" Riccio stuffed a slice of the sausage into his mouth. Its spiciness made his eyes water. He quickly handed his empty glass to Hornet.



Scipio still hadn't said anything. He stroked his hair thoughtfully and fiddled with the ribbon around his ponytail. Then he cleared his throat. "Interesting," he said. "A job for a thief -- why not? What will I have to steal?"



"No idea." Riccio rubbed his greasy fingers on his pant legs. "Not even the redbeard knows anything about it yet. But he seems to think that the Thief Lord is just the man for the job." Riccio grinned. "The fatso probably imagines you're a huge guy with a stocking on his head who creeps around the pillars of the Doge's Palace like a cat. Anyway, he wants a quick answer."



They all looked at Scipio. He just sat there and toyed with his mask. Lost in thought, he stroked its long, bent nose. It was so quiet that you could hear the crackle of the candles. "Yes, that is indeed quite interesting," he wondered aloud. "Yes, why not?"



Prosper watched him uneasily. He still had that feeling that something dark and threatening was moving in on them. Trouble...and danger...



Scipio seemed to read his mind. "What do you think of all this, Prop?" he asked.



"Not much," Prosper answered. "I don't trust Barbarossa." He could hardly say: because I don't think much of stealing. After all, he lived off Scipio being such a master of it.



Scipio nodded.



Just then Bo, of all people, let Prosper down. "So what?" he said. He kneeled next to Scipio, his eyes shiny with excitement. "It'll be easy for you, won't it? Right, Scip?"



Scipio had to smile. He took the kitten out of Bo's arms and placed it on his lap, stroking its tiny ears.



"And I will help you!" Bo moved even closer to Scipio. "Right, Scip? I'll come with you."



"Bo! Stop talking such complete nonsense!" Prosper shouted at him. "You're not going anywhere, is that clear? And you're definitely not going to do anything dangerous."



"You bet I will!" Bo made a face at his brother and folded his arms defiantly.



Scipio still hadn't said anything.



Mosca smoothed out one of the colorful mandorlati wrappers. Riccio pushed his tongue through the gap in his teeth and kept his eyes fixed on Scipio.



"I agree with Prosper," Hornet said breaking into the silence. "There's no reason to take any more risks. We've got enough money for now."



Scipio examined his mask and poked a finger into one of its hollow eyes. "I will take the job," he said. "Riccio, you will go to Barbarossa tomorrow morning and give him my reply."



Riccio nodded. His scrawny face beamed all over. "And this time you'll take us along, won't you?" he asked. "Please! I'd love to see a big, fine house from the inside --just once."



"Yes, I'd like that too." Mosca gazed dreamily up at the curtain, which was glittering in the candlelight as if it were covered in golden spider's threads. "I've often wondered what it must be like. I've heard that in some of the houses the floors are paved with gold and that they have real diamonds on the doorknobs."



"Well, go to the Scuola di San Rocco if you want to see things like that!" Hornet gave the boys an angry look. "Scipio just said himself, he should take a break for a while. After all, they're probably still looking for the man who broke into the Palazzo Contarini. Another break-in would be madness right now. Just stupid!" She turned to Scipio. "If Barbarossa knew that the Thief Lord hasn't got a single hair on his chin and doesn't reach up to his shoulder even in a pair of high-heeled boots, he would have never asked him anyway ..."



"Oh yeah?" Scipio straightened himself up as if that would prove Hornet wrong. "Did you know that Alexander the Great was smaller than me? He had to push a table in front of the Persian throne so he could climb on to it. I've made my decision. Tell Barbarossa that the Thief Lord will take the job. I have to go now, but I will be back tomorrow." He started to leave, but Hornet stood in his way.



"Now listen," she said quietly. "Maybe you're a better thief than all the grown-up thieves in this city, but when Barbarossa sees you in your high heels with all your grown-up playacting, he'll just laugh at you."



The others looked at Scipio in embarrassment. Never before had any of them dared to talk to him like that.



Scipio stood completely still and stared straight at Hornet. Then his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Well, the redbeard is not going to see me!" he said, pulling the mask over his face. "And should he ever dare to laugh at me then I'll just spit into his moon face and laugh right back at him, twice as loud. He is just a fat, old man. I am the Thief Lord." With a sudden spin he turned his back on Hornet and stalked off. "I'll be quite late tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.



Then he was swallowed by the shadows.



9 Everybody Is Small at Night



In the middle of the night, while everybody was asleep, Prosper got up. He pulled the blanket over Bo's exposed feet and fished his flashlight from underneath the pillows. Then he put on his jacket and crept past the others. Riccio was tossing and turning in his sleep and Mosca was holding on tight to his sea horse. One of Bo's kittens was sleeping on Hornet's pillow, its head hidden in her brown hair.



Prosper opened the door of the emergency exit and shuddered as the cold air assaulted him. It was a starlit night and the moon shimmered on the canal behind the movie theater. The houses on the opposite side were dark -- except for one window, where a light still shined. Someone else who can't sleep, Prosper thought. A few broad, worn steps led down to the water. They looked as if they led all the way to the bottom of the canal. Deeper and deeper, and into another world. Once he had sat by the canal with Bo and Mosca, and Bo had claimed that mermen and mermaids had built those steps. Mosca had asked him how they used them with their slippery fishtails. Prosper smiled as he remembered. He sat down on the topmost step and looked across the moonlit surface of the water. The canal showed the blurred reflections of the houses, just as it had done long before Prosper had been born, before his parents and even his grandparents had been born. Often, as he walked through the city, Prosper ran his fingers along the walls. The stones in Venice felt very different, everything was different from anything he had known before.



Prosper tried not to think about it. He wasn't homesick -- he hadn't been for a long time, not even at night. This was his home now. The city had welcomed Bo and him like a great, gentle animal. It had hidden them in its winding alleys and had enchanted them with its exotic sounds and strange smells. It had even provided them with friends. Prosper didn't ever want to leave again. Never. He had grown so used to hearing the water smack and slurp against wood and stone.