Chiaroscuro : The Pattern of Light and Shadow

Slate

Once his father left, Slate turned to face his half-sister. “Don’t tell your mother what I'm going to do, Pebble,” he whispered, using the nickname he’d given little Quartz.

Her face fell. “You’re going out again, big brother?” she asked, disappointed.

He guided her up to her room. “Sorry, Pebble.”

And he was genuinely sorry, an emotion he only felt with his little sister. As he tucked her into her bed, he almost thought of abandoning his plans.

Still, guilt hadn’t kept him from doing what he loved before. It wouldn’t stop him now. He glanced at Quartz’s open window, wishing not for the first time that he was a pegasus, not a unicorn.

He was what he was, however, and he silently walked down to the kitchens, muffling his footsteps with magic. He avoided the household servants, whose schedules he knew by heart. He’d been sneaking out like this for nine years now, and none of them even knew.

Slate took a deep breath as he stepped outside into the cool night air. It smelled of pony shit.

“Good old Canterlot,” he murmured to himself as he grabbed the cloak he had hidden under the bush. It was an old zebra assassin’s cloak, or so the seller had said. Either way, it hid his features well enough that no one could identify him as the Bastard of Stone.

Cloak on, he started lightly trotting along the streets, looking around casually as he searched for a mark. He wandered up and down the alleys of Canterlot, throwing off anyone who happened to tail him. Not many would, since he didn’t act like an interesting pony.

He spotted second floor open window with a single candle in it. The candle suddenly blew out.

Curious, Slate glanced around, looking for a way to climb up. He walked around the house to the back, where he saw a set of stairs that led to a door on the second floor.

He climbed up them, ready to bolt away if the door opened. The door itself was locked.

Slate sighed and levitated his lockpicks out. Nobody wanted to make this easy for him.

A few moments later, the door unlocked for him. He carefully opened it, muffling the sounds of the door with a small spell.

He tiptoed inside. The door opened onto a long and elegant hallway, similar to one in his own home. He walked past several closed doors before pausing by an open one.

The open room was dark, but a spell showed that no pony was in there.

He heard a door creak open, and he quickly slipped into the room, hiding in the shadows.

A slender white unicorn with a sapphire blue mane walked past the door, escorting a red earthpony mare out. The mare was clearly disheveled, but the unicorn was groomed and put together.

The entrance opened and closed, and Slate let out a breath he’d been holding. He gently closed the door and cast a small light spell inside the room.

It was a simple room, but much of it was covered in cobwebs. Something caught the glint of light, and he brushed the cobwebs off a small wooden box edged in gold. The box had a lock on it, but it was already opened.

He gently pushed the lid open, and his breath caught as he saw what was inside.

A beautiful necklace lay on a deep blue cushion. The golden chain ended in a perfectly circular fire opal. The opal was etched with a design Slate didn’t recognize, but he knew instinctively that it made the piece even more valuable.

He closed the small box and hid it inside a pocket in his cloak.

The entrance to the house opened again, and Slate’s eyes darted to the window. He pushed open the shutters and glanced out, seeing the top of a market stall within jumping distance.

He glanced back over his shoulder. The light underneath the door was blocked by a set of four hooves.

Slate climbed up and out of the window as the door opened. He jumped onto the market stall and rolled off, landing on his four hooves and bolting away. A voice called after him, angry, but he ignored it as he ran.

He slowed when he was halfway across the city and in a much dirtier area. The smell of Canterlot was strong where he was.

He recognized the street, and he walked over to a small shop he’d known for years.

He walked in, despite the late hour, and pulled out the small box.

The owner of the store, a dusky brown unicorn mare with a white mane and an eye patch, glared at him as he place the box on her counter. Her pet raven fluttered his wings. “Wha’s it this time, Dirk?” she growled.

“A pleasure to see you as always, Raven.” They always identified themselves by their cutie marks, rather than their own names. “I found this,” he said as he opened the box, revealing the opal necklace.

Raven stared at it, greed evident in her one red eye. “Three hundred.”

And so the bidding begun. “Six.”

“Four.”

“Five and a half and no less. It was a difficult job.”

Raven snorted at that. “Aye, difficult. Five.”

Slate weighed his options. “Deal.”

Raven counted out the bits, and Slate watched her carefully. The fence would short him if he didn’t.

She slapped a bag of gold bits down next to the opal’s box.

They grabbed their payments quickly, before the other could telekinetically snatch it away.

Slate knew she would triple the price when she sold it again, but five hundred bits was a good payment for a single job.

He whistled as he walked home the long way, the sun just barely starting to rise in the sky.