Prologue: The Halfling Thief's Malaise

Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!

Minx – The Free City of Rartha

I padded through the bustling crowd in the market square, my small cutpurse dagger tucked into my palm. It was a ring dagger. Instead of a hilt there was a circle of metal I slipped my pointer finger through. With a flick, I could spin the blade around my finger, slice a purse open, gather the coins with my other hand as they fell out, and then flip my wrist and conceal the knife back in my palm.

Hidden in many pockets of my robe were the coins I had pilfered as I moved silently through the crowd. With my burlap robe on and a pile of cloth on my head that vaguely resembled a cap, I passed as a street urchin begging in the marketplace instead of a halfling thief.

I was good. Humans always underestimated my race. Just because we were half their height didn’t mean we couldn’t take advantage of them. The other six of my thieving crew worked the crowd with me. I caught a glimpse of Owl slicing a fat man’s purse while he browsed a stall selling oranges.

Though I was the best thief in the city, I hated it. There was no challenge in cutting purses and picking pockets. All the fun had gone out of thieving when my older sister, Fox, was hung by the city guards last year.

It had been my fault. We were working a side job, burgling a powerful merchant’s house. But I somehow alerted the guards and Fox was caught giving me a chance to escape. My big sister was always too protective of me.

She dreamed of that big score, robbing the richest of Rartha and then returning back to Baraconia on the Island of Birds to live as rich halflings. We would find a man to marry and force him to have only two wives while we lived as queens with our ill-gotten wealth.

At night, as we lay in our blankets talking after making love, my sister and I would stare at the Saltspray Palace and plot how to break into the Great Vault. We had memorized the palace, learned the guard schedules, even done a few scouts to learn the secrets. It was ambitious. It would get us away from Spray and her thieving gang.

Not that Spray was bad. She was just ... content to have her halfling wives thieve for her. Well, we weren’t officially her wives. That was just what she called us. None of us minded. Halfling females out-bred our men by seven to one. It was rare for a male halfling to have less than six or seven wives.

I padded up to a prospect, an ebony-skinned Halanian woman dressed in silks, her purse on her belt. My wrist flicked. My knife cut. Coins tumbled into my hand and vanished into my pockets in a heartbeat. I turned and melted into the crowd before the woman realized she had even been robbed.

Metal clinked. My ears perked. I cast about the courtyard. A pair of bronze-armored guards with catchpoles moved through the crowd, their eyes scanning. I cast my gaze about, a tinge of excitement beating through my veins. Another pair came from the north.

They had learned we were working the square.

I whistled loud, making the warbling call of the red-breasted thrusher. A whistle answered me and then a second and a third. The crowd swallowed up the sounds of any more whistles, but I am sure my fellow thieves had been alerted.

It was time to melt away and return back to the tower.

Being short was quite the advantage. The guards were all humans, the Rarathans would never believe a halfling thief-taker would be useful to stop us, and I weaved through the crowd on my escape route. I had enough money to satisfy Spray’s small ambition.

I dodged and ducked, sometimes racing between men’s legs as I scampered away from the guards. A smile crossed my lips. Fleeing the guards provided some amount of excitement over the drudgery of pickpocketing and cutpursing.

I dodged around a fat man and came face to face with a pair of guards. So, there were downsides to being short, too. I couldn’t see through the crowd. The guards glanced down at me and then cursed. One swung his catchpole, the end hooked around like a shepherds crook, and tried to snag my leg.

I leaped, my robe clinking with my stolen coins. Then I dived beneath the second guard’s legs, rolled, and came up in a spring. Their armor clinked behind me. I laughed as I spun around a gasping priestess of Slata then leaped at the support pole that held a canvas awning over a merchant’s stall.

In moments I had scaled the top and dashed across the awning. I was light enough not to bring it down.

“Cernere-damned thief,” a guard shouted at me.

I leaped from the awning to a stone wall of a house that bordered the market square. I scrambled up the mortar and made it onto the red-tiled roof. I turned and waved at the guards as they pushed through the crowd, then I dashed across the rooftops.

They couldn’t follow me.

I raced across the conjoined houses, then dashed nimbly about a clothes line strung over a street, my arms outstretched to hold my balance. I gained the next set of roofs and turned south, spotting the ruined tower by the south harbor.

Rartha was an immense city. Even on the rooftops, all I could see was a sea of red in almost every direction. Only the nearby docks broke it up, with the glinting Nimborgoth beyond. To the west, the Saltspray Palace loomed on the cliff of the harbor, staring down at the city. The Doge ruled from there, looking down on his city.

Without Fox, I didn’t have the courage to try and steal from him. I turned my back and raced across another rooftop before sliding down a drain spout and disappearing into the crowds flowing down the streets.

I spotted my pursuers. They didn’t see me in the crowd. I strolled past them as they gazed up at the rooftops, searching for me. I giggled and took my time walking back to the tower. I had thieved and survived another day.

Tomorrow, I would have to do it all over again. And again.

I tried not to think about that.

The salt of the sea tickled my nose when I reached the hideout. It was a ruined tannery with a tower built over it. No one knew why the tannery had a tower. It was decrepit, in the slums by the southern docks. I produced my poniard, hiding it in the sleeve of my robe, ready to stab any of the brutes that haunted this part of town.

None tried anything.

I reached the tower and scaled up it. I was the last to arrive. The others were already there, naked and giggling, showing Spray their hauls and grinning at her approval. The nixie who led our band lounged on a pile of pillows. She was naked, her cock half-hard on her stomach. Her skin was blue and she had foamy, sea-green hair that fell in a wet curtain about her face. Her hair was always wet and she had a constant sheen of moisture on her body.

“Minx,” she purred when she saw me. “Late again.”

I shrugged and produced my coins, dropping them in the pot. Then I pulled off my itching robe. Beneath I wore tight, leather britches that hung to my curvy hips and ass. I may have the stature of a human child, but I had a woman’s curve that matched my slight frame. A band of brown cloth were wrapped about my conical breasts.

Owl swallowed Spray’s cock, sucking it hard as I walked to the tower’s window. I climbed into it and gazed out at the sea. The Isle of Birds, where Baraconia lay, was out there. The city my sister and I fled seven years ago. I was twelve then.

If Fox hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be here. We would have plundered the wealth of the Great Vault and escaped Spray’s small ambition. I sighed. I wish I had the courage to try by myself. I didn’t want to stay in this town doing such mindless tasks.

“What are you thinking about?” Spray asked.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, not glancing at my leader.

She turned my head. Her cock was right before my lips. She guided my head to her dick, and I didn’t resist. I opened my mouth and sucked on the tip of her cock. The salt of her precum flooded my mouth. My cheeks hollowed as my tongue swirled.

“Mmm, Minx,” she purred. “Such a lovely mouth.”

Her hands stroked my metallic-red hair. My pussy grew wet between my thighs and my nipples hardened. Behind Spray, the other halflings were paring up, kissing and cuddling, making love to relax after a long day. It kept us close, intimate. A team.