Thieves at Heart by Tristan J. Tarwater Page B

already there. They’re just changing it back and forth and coming home to it every night.”
    “What are they giving?” she asked, her voice more filled with curiosity than disbelief. Derk took another drag, his face tranquil and looking rather pleased with himself.
    “Their humors, their personality, themselves. Why d’yah think children look and act like their parents? Even if they’ve never been around them, they always act like them, or at least one of them.”
    “Why ain’t the brass crazy, then? They sleep with men all the time and most of them have more sense than most.” At this, she saw Derk stiffen, sitting up in his chair more; whenever she mentioned prostitutes he behaved this way, growing graver and always speaking poorly of their profession and behaviors.
    “They don’t give themselves to anyone,” he said quickly, flicking the cigarette with such agitation, the bit holding the flame popped out, rolling across the table with its menacing glow. He reached over for the pitcher, pouring more than enough water on it to put it out, the excess dripping off the table and onto the floor. “They don’t put any emotions into it, only desire for gain. But I’ve seen men driven mad by them.”
    “Well, maybe I can do the same,” she shot, flouncing her way to her pack, kneeling down to look for the long, blue ribbon Derk had bought her for her hair. She tied it carefully, feeling the top of her head to be sure it was in the right place. “Maybe you got me too late and I’m like them after all.”
    He laughed out loud and Tavera cringed inwardly. She heard the melancholy in his laugh and finally she felt ashamed, having made her father think on something sad and maybe causing him grief with his words. She walked over to Derk and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her smooth cheek on his rough one.
    “You’re like me, Tavi,” he said finally, kissing her on the forehead like he always did. “You feel things, though you hide it well. You must mind your humors or they may lead you astray. They’re good things to have, as they make life richer but you must temper them with prudence. Do you understand?”
    “It’s bad enough when you’re all serious, now you go using big words and such. I hate it!” She grinned at him, her dark face filled with light. Derk’s eyes lit up and he stood up quickly, pushing her off of him.
    “Tits, Kiff, you sidetracked me so, I forgot. Shamsee’s outside, a block towards the temple and needing you for a take. By Her ivory tits, seeing you and that onion made me forget! Go to it, now, it’s the one on the left!”
    Tavera ran out the door of the room and down the hall, making it to the stairs and jetting down into the tavern proper. The tender raised an eyebrow as she zipped past the bar and darted through the door, almost running into two large guards as she did. They paid no mind to the scraggly girl who shot past them into the busy streets outside.
    It was crowded on the street but it was easy to find who she was looking for. The tall, hawk-nosed man called Shamsee was right where Derk had said, a block away from the bar, his small table set up on the tiny sidewalk. Tavera breathed a sigh of relief, seeing she wasn’t too late for the take. The man shifted his brown eyes towards her ever so briefly before focusing on the crowd and in a loud, nasal voice he began his tirade.
    It went as planned. He broke out the walnut cups and the pea, placing the pea under one of them and shifting them as he spoke in his hypnotizing voice, the crowd gathering around for a look and a chance to play. To prove his legitimacy and the game’s simplicity he would ask Tavera, a simple child, to play. He would give the cups a few turns, she would say she couldn’t play, as she only had a half piece that her father had given her for an offering at the temple. He would entice the girl, telling her she could make a much bigger offering if she played and won.