Bonus: The Theft

Etched in the interwoven bars of a door propped open were the words One person can always make a difference. Anku Phy ignored them as he entered the small shop. The motto appeared everywhere in this district, rote and meaningless. Glittering jewels laid out in display cases proved more adept at capturing his eye.

“S-sorry, Sir. It’s early, and my master isn’t available to assist you yet,” stammered a petite man behind the counter. His four eyes fluttered as they raked the customer.

The motif that bordered the ankle-length hemline of Phy’s vest marked him as a nobleman. The granok feather that hung from his crooked beret was a sign of wealth, even if it was stringy, limp, and slightly faded from the proper inky black.

“No need to bother your master. I am simply a collector of unset gems,” Phy announced. “Surely you can show me a few of your best cut symarr.”

“Of course, Sir, right away, but you won’t be able to buy anything until my master comes.”

The shopkeeper held a thumb to the lock on the display case and pulled out a tray. In folds of soft, obsidian fabric, a dozen clear jewels glistened like faceted glass.

The polite smile Phy had forced into his eyes deepened. This is too easy. I came all the way to the Napix homeworld, and my first mark is a Zalerit. Stick with what’s familiar, I guess.

“I grew up on Zalerit.” One by one, Phy picked up the gems and twisted them under an inspecting eye. “Large world. Lots of mountains. Horrible winters.”

“I’ve never been there.” The Zalerit’s gaze remained glued to Phy’s hands.

Funny how they have extra eyes, but no Zalerit can see as well as us.

“You’re not missing anything. This place—Kizmet District, right—is much nicer. Can’t fathom why my ancestors ever left.”

“Few get to choose where they live,” the Zalerit whispered, gaze momentarily distant.

Phy squeezed a gem, and the point pressed into his thumb until dark blood smeared the tiny stone’s surface. “Imbecile! What kind of sloppy workmanship do you have here? This jewel just cut me!”

“Infinite apologies, Sir—”

“Why should I buy from this shop? Why should anybody buy from this place? And you just stand there like a fool. Get me something to dress this wound!”

Shoulders hunched, the Zalerit scrambled to pull a first-aid kit from beneath the counter and open it.

“I can wrap it myself, grubby Zalerit,” Phy grumbled, med-tape snatched from the shopkeeper’s shaking fingers. “You want too much for these silly rocks anyway.”

“These are perfectly cut symarr, sliced from the hearts of dead stars.” An iron edge sharpened the Zalerit’s tone, and he slipped the tray back into the display case. “My master can explain better if you wait for him.”

Phy gave a dismissive wave as he stepped out the door and disappeared into the bustling crowd, a symarr hidden in the bandage on his right thumb.

Stay calm. Look like you belong here. Like you’ve seen all this a million times.

~END~

Thank you for reading this bonus scene where we get to see Phy's theft from his point of view.

Check out book 2 and the companion novellas!