The Dream Thief

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Loretta Schofield placed a black leather bag on the cafei table in front of her. Like everything else in this massive house, the table was the finest available—for any amount of rittern. The expanse of deep brown oak was carved into an elaborate scene complete with elves, dragons, and the mysterious robed figures of Alterra’s distant past. In properly devout fashion, the glittering Crown rode high in the sky, and Jonah the whale god swam in his heavenly ocean surrounding the land. A perfect sheet of glass covered the whole thing, the shimmering effect creating an even stronger sense of fantasy.

She tried not to shudder at placing such a horrific object, far more suited for nightmares than fairy tales, on top of it.

Mrs. Roma Norwood was one of her wealthiest, and therefore best, clients. The chubby woman, just shy of old age but doing her best to fight it, opened the bag and pulled out a glass case with brass fittings. She let out a deep sigh and cradled the hideous thing Loretta had just given her against her substantial bosom.

"I simply cannot understand how you're able to do this over and over again, Ms. Schofield."

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Norwood," she said. "This one was difficult to locate, but I hope it's everything you were looking for."

Loretta had long ago stopped wondering why people wanted the things they did, wanted them so badly that they'd pay a fortune for something they only dared show a few others. Friends and neighbors as caught up in this sick mania as they were. As long as they paid well, and paid reliably, she didn't care.

"And you've never seen another one like it?" Mrs. Norwood said.

The woman stared at Loretta, her eyes heavily painted and made up, but pretty enough. That kohl and powder did help distract from the thick layers all over the rest of her face.

"No, Mrs. Norwood. Neither I nor any of my suppliers have ever seen anything like this before." Loretta leaned closer, the black leather around her waist and torso creaking. "None of your neighbors will have, either."

Those eyes were wider for a second before proper Mrs. Norwood leaned back into a most girlish fit of giggling.

"Oh dear, you've once again read my mind," she said. "If we're to be on such intimate terms, please do call me Roma. May I ask you a question? About a silly rumor I've heard?"

"Of course you may, Roma," Loretta said, bracing herself for whatever nonsense was to come. "One of the ways I keep my trade healthy is by keeping up with what my neighbors are most excited about."

Mrs. Norwood leaned forward and whispered.

"I've heard some of my friends talk about special items that come all the way from Aerohead, hidden away in the haunted houses there. That's why they're so rare and take so long to find. Do your treasures come from there?"

Loretta smiled, amused by the question. She'd started that little rumor herself a long time ago.

"You know Aerohead is dangerous," she said, shivering. "I imagine anyone brave enough to venture to that lost city would find wonders without number. If they survived."

She winked as she looked up at Mrs. Norwood.

Roma Norwood covered her mouth and giggled again before getting to her feet in a rustling, perfumed bundle.

"I'll just go speak to Mr. Norwood about the p*****t. May I take this little treasure with me? You know how seeing a thing helps men to understand the value. Poor dears."

Loretta inclined her head, and her smile was genuine. Neither Mr. Norwood nor any of the other spouses ever argued about p*****t, or the prices she charged. At least none of the houses she visited more than once. A husband, or a wife, who argued about such things would lose the services of Ms. Loretta Schofield—permanently.

"Of course you may," Loretta said. "I know I can trust you, Roma."

The older woman grinned, looking years younger despite the powders and potions caked onto her skin. She made a show of arranging her fashionably cumbersome rust-colored dress before she swept through the broad lattice-topped archway toward the back of the house.

Loretta took in a deep, perfume-free breath as soon as she heard the door to Mr. Norwood's study close. If the lady of this fine house hadn't wanted to take the thing with her, Loretta would have insisted.

She knew it was like any other treasure she mysteriously found, created in the night from whatever substance floated down out of the Aether and through a Builder's mind at the Ministry of Manifestation. It could just have well have looked like an ancient pocket watch, a stolen sheaf of top-secret military papers from Stensue, or a bundle of pressed flowers from a long-ago first date. All of the fake trinkets she peddled came from the same place.

The fact that the occupants of this particularly wealthy household were happy to believe she'd somehow procured the petrified left hand of a deformed child—a child with seven perfect fingers and a double-jointed thumb—was more than enough for Loretta to want the damned thing far away from her.

These negotiations between Mr. and Mrs. Norwood could go on for ages even though the outcome was never in doubt. Loretta stood and walked around the room, looking at the more conventional collection displayed all around her. Every little bit of information helped in her line of work.

Coin was never an object inside the walls of these fine old houses, by far the finest and most elaborate in all of Waldron's Gate, probably in all of Alterra. Loretta knew which houses held Directors, but what they directed made no difference to her. She was much more interested in what they, and their spouses, desired.

A burst of giggly, girlish laughter floated from the back of the house. Loretta rolled her eyes and continued her investigations. No matter how desperately her clients longed for anything new to set them apart from their peers, their routines inside their own homes rarely varied. She didn't want—or need—to know the particulars.

She knew the rittern would be forthcoming, and that she had at least another ten minutes to wait. She gathered her heavy black skirts and stepped closer to the fireplace.

The mantels might seem to hold the most important items in any of these houses, and in this case that meant the most expensive. The most expensive things the residents were willing to have on public display, at least.

Mrs. Norwood kept her decor fresh and surprising, with something different out on every visit. It never occurred to Loretta that Roma might have done that to impress her with what she already owned.

The only thing that ever impressed her in her clients' houses was the p*****t and how quickly it moved into her hands. The current seemingly careless arrangement of gems and stones, including a precious dragon stone, red at the heart and blue around the faceted edges, made no impression. She'd seen the real treasure vault only a few weeks ago, during her last visit.

That generally took at least four deliveries, sometimes more, but the people eager to engage Loretta's services were always just as eager to share what they already had. The premise was to make sure she understood what sort of things they liked, and of course to make sure there was no duplication. She never had any doubt that these wealthy collectors were as excited to show off to her as to any other trusted guest. Quite likely more so.

Her quick eyes and quicker mind noted the color scheme in this public area of the house: warm violets, yellows, and tans. The Norwoods had carefully, if not consciously, reproduced that same palate in the most private room in the house, but they'd shifted the hues.

That room, hidden behind a massive bookshelf filled with real, and rare, books, was decorated in much deeper purples, golds, and browns. The lighting in that secure inner room was tasteful yet effective. Every single macabre curio was displayed to its best possible advantage.

On the wall opposite the fireplace, Loretta found another clue to the hidden desires of this most demure and socially acceptable couple. A huge shadowbox, larger than Loretta could have lifted by herself, was filled with perfectly lifelike insects, every one pierced through with a color-coordinated enameled pin.

Some of the specimens were too foreign and strange to have come from nearby, and Loretta wondered if some of them had come from far distant corners of Alterra. She wasn't the only one trading in such strange and exotic items, even if she was by far the most successful.

Loretta had the advantage of never being limited by her clients' desires or their imaginations. She was only empowered by them.

She was leaning closer to a display of what looked like pressed flowers and leaves, wondering if any were of more dubious origin, when she heard the study door open.

Loretta settled herself on the sofa, arranging her skirt and her features appropriately. Not too eager, not too concerned, and definitely not showing too much leg. Polite interest was far more effective than smug certainty, and flirting wouldn't get her anywhere with Mrs. Norwood. With some of her neighbors, certainly, but not here.

Loretta had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep that carefully distant expression when Mr. Olsen Norwood walked in.