Take a Thief: A Novel of Valdemar (Paperback)

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Mercedes Lackey's triumphant return to the best-selling world of Valdemar, Takes a Thief reveals the untold story of Skif-a popular character from Lackey's first published novel, Arrows of the Queen. Skif is a homeless orphan who lives with a gang of juvenile pickpockets...until he is "Chosen" by one of Valdemar's magical horses and becomes a Herald serving the Queen.

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No matter how comfortable he was, Skif slept like a cat, with one eye open and one ear cocked, in case trouble stole upon him, thinking to catch him unaware. So even though he didn't know what woke him, when he woke, he came alert all at once, and instead of jumping to his feet, he stayed frozen in place, listening.

Wood creaked slightly, somewhere in the loft. Was it a footstep? The sound came again, a trifle nearer, then fabric brushed against something harder. There was someone up here with him.

Now, it wouldn't be one of the laundry servants on proper business; they came up the stair, clumping and talking loudly. It might be a servant or a page come up here to nap or escape work-if it was, although Skif would have a slight advantage in that the other wouldn't want to be caught, he had a profound dis-advantage in that he didn't belong here himself, and the other could legitimately claim to have heard something overhead and gone to investigate. If that was the case, he'd be stuck under this tub until the other person left.

It might also be something and someone entirely different-a thief, who wouldn't want to be found any more than Skif did, who might flee, or might fight, depending on the circumstances, if Skif came out of hiding.

He didn't know enough yet; better to wait. It was highly unlikely that the other would choose Skif's particular tub to hide himself or anything else underneath. It was out of the way and smallish, and Skif had chosen it for precisely those reasons. Instead, he peered under the edge of it, as the surreptitious sounds moved closer, thanking his luck that it wasn't dusty up here. Now would be a bad time to sneeze.

It sounded, given the direction the sounds were coming from, as if the unknown had gotten into the loft the same way that Skif had, through the gable window at the end. Skif narrowed his eyes, waiting for something to come into his area of vision among the slats of the wooden tubs. The light was surprisingly good up here, but the sun was all wrong for Skif to see a shadow that might give him some notion of who the other intruder was. The creaking gave Skif a good idea that the fellow moved toward the stairs, which meant he was at least thinking of using them to descend into the laundry itself. That wasn't an option Skif would have chosen-unless, of course, the fellow was a thief, and was planning on purloining something from the laundry itself. There was plenty of stuff to steal in there; silk handkerchiefs and scarves, the embroidered ribbons that the young ladies of the household liked to use for their necks and hair and the young men liked to give them, the gossamer veils they wore in public-all light, easy to carry, presumably easy to sell. The only reason Skif hadn't helped himself before this was that he didn't know where to dispose of such things and was not about to share his loot with Kalchan.

A foot slid slowly into view; not a big foot, and most importantly of all, not a foot clad in the soled sock of a page or liveried indoor servant. This was a foot in a half-boot of very flexible black leather, laced tight to the ankle and calf, much worn and patched, not much larger than his own, attached to a leg in rusty black trews with worn places along the hem. This foot, and the person who wore those trews, did not belong here. No one in Lord Orthallen's service wore anything of the sort.

Skif made a quick decision, and struck. Before the other knew he was there, Skif's hand darted from under the tub, and Skif had the fellow's ankle held fast in a hand that was a lot stronger than it looked.

Skif had half expected a struggle, or at least an attempt to get free, but the owner of the ankle had more sense than that-or was more afraid of the attention that the sounds of a struggle would bring than anything Skif could do to him. So now, it was the other's turn to freeze.

Skif mentally applauded his decision. He thought he had a good idea of what was going through the other fellow's mind. Now, the arm that Skif had snaked out from beneath the tub was clad in a sleeve that was more patch than whole cloth. So Skif obviously didn't belong here either, and the two of them were at an equal advantage and disadvantage. For either to make noise or fuss would mean that both would be caught-and no point in trying to claim that one had seen the other sneak over the wall and followed to catch him either. An honest boy would have pounded on the back entrance to report the intruder, not climbed up after him. No, no-if one betrayed the other, both of them would be thrown to the City Guard.

So the other fellow did the prudent thing; he stayed in place once Skif let go of him so that Skif could slip out from under the tub. Like it or not, for the moment they were partners in crime. Skif, however, had a plan.

There was a moment when the other could have tried to knock Skif out and make a run for it, but he didn't. Such an action would have been noisy, of course, and he still might have been caught, but with one unconscious or semiconscious boy on the floor to distract those who would come clambering up here, he might have been able to get away. Skif breathed a sigh of relief when he was all the way out from under the tub and was able to kneel next to it, looking up at the interloper.

What he saw was a boy of about fifteen, but small for his age, so that he wasn't a great deal taller than Skif. His thin face, as closed and impassive as any statue's, gave away no hint of what he was thinking. His eyes narrowed when he got a good look at his captor, but there was no telling what emotion lay behind the eyes.

His clothing was better than Skif's-but then again, whose wasn't? Skif wore every shirt he owned-three, all ragged, all inexpertly patched by his own hands, all faded into an indeterminate brown-with a knitted tunic that was more hole than knit over the top of it all. His linen trews, patched as well, were under his woolen trews, which for a change, had been darned except for the seat which sported a huge patch made from an old canvas tent. This boy's clothing was at least all the same color and the patches were of the same sort of material as the original. In fact, unless you were as close as Skif was, you wouldn't notice the patches much.

He had long hair of a middling brown color, and a headband of dark braided string to keep it out of his eyes. His eyes matched his hair, and if he'd been fed as well as one of the page boys his face would have been round; as it was, the bones showed clearly, though not nearly as sharply defined as Skif's.

There were other signs of relative prosperity; the other boy's wrists weren't as thin as Skif's, and he showed no signs of the many illnesses that the poor were prone to in the winter. If he was a thief-and there was little doubt in Skif's mind that he was-this boy was a good enough thief to be doing well.

The two of them stared at each other for several moments. It was the older boy who finally broke the silence.

"Wot ye want?" he asked, in a harsh whisper.

Until that moment when he'd seized the other's ankle, Skif hadn't known what he wanted, but the moment his hand had touched leather, his plan had sprung up in his mind.

"Teach me," he whispered, and saw with satisfaction the boy's eyes widen with surprise, then his slow nod.

He squatted down beside Skif, who beckoned to him to follow. On hands and knees, Skif led him into the maze of tubs and empty packing crates until they were hidden from view against the wall, next to the chimney.

There they settled, screened by stacks of buckets needing repair. From below came the steady sounds of the laundry, which should cover any conversation of theirs.

"Ye ain't no page, an' ye ain't got no reason t'be in the wash house. Wot ye doin' here?" the boy asked, more curious than annoyed.

Skif shrugged. "Same as you, only not so good," he replied. He explained his ruse to get fed to the boy, whose lips twitched into a thin smile.

"Not bad done, fer a little," he acknowledged. "Noboddie never pays mind t'littles. Ye cud do better, though. Real work, not this pilferin' bits uv grub. I kin get through places a mun can't, an ye kin get where I can't. We might cud work t'gether."

"That's why I want ye t'teach me," Skif whispered back. "Can't keep runnin' this ferever. Won' look like no page much longer."

The boy snorted. "Won't need to. Here, shake on't." He held out his hand, a thin, hard, and strong hand, and Skif took it, cementing their bargain with a shake. "M'name's Deek," the boy said, releasing his hand.

Skif was happy to note that Deek hadn't tried to crush his hand in his grip or otherwise show signs of being a bully. "Call me Skif," he offered.

Deek grinned. "Good. Now, you stay here-I come back in a tick, an' we'll scoot out by th' back t'gether." He cocked his head down at the floor, and it was pretty clear that there wasn't anyone working down in the laundry anymore. It was probably time for supper; the laundresses and some of the other servants ate long before their betters, and went to bed soon after sundown, for their work started before sunrise.

Skif nodded; he saw no reason to doubt that Deek would play him false, since he was sitting on the only good route of escape. He and Deek made their way back to Skif's tub; Skif ducked back inside, and Deek crept down the stairs into the laundry.

Deek came back up quickly, and the quick peek of silk from the now slightly-bulging breast of his tunic told Skif all he needed to know. As he had expected, Deek had managed to slip downstairs, purloin small items of valuable silk, and get back up without anyone catching sight of him. As long as he took small things, items unlikely to be missed for a while, that weren't such rare dainties as to be too recognizable, it was quite likely that the owners themselves would assume they'd been mislaid. No specially embroidered handkerchiefs, for example, or unusual colors of veils. He beckoned to Skif, who followed him out over the roof, both of them lying as flat as stalking cats as they wiggled their way along th... --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Product Details

• Paperback: 448 pages
• Publisher: DAW; First Thus edition (October 1, 2002)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0756400589
• ISBN-13: 978-0756400583
• Product Dimensions: 6.5 x 4.2 x 1.4 inches
• Shipping Weight: 7.8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 3.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (73 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #98,153 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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Most Helpful Customer Reviews

32 of 33 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars Focusing on the Spear Carriers, November 9, 2001

By	James D. DeWitt "Alaska Fan" (Fairbanks, AK United States) - See all my reviews (TOP 1000 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

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This review is from: Take a Thief (Hardcover)

Mercedes Lackey has crafted an interesting series of books focused mostly on Valdemar, a country whose government is greatly helped by spirit horses called Companions. The Companions select and assist Heralds, who are the government's agents in the field and very nearly incorruptible. Since the first Valdemar trilogy, the "Arrows" books, the Herald Skif, a reformed thief, has popped up from time to time, sometimes in minor roles, sometimes in larger ones, as in the "Winds" trilogy.

In her last two Valedmar books, Lackey has abandoned the development of Valdemar and focused instead on specific characters. In "Brightly Burning" it was an historical character, mentioned only in passing in other novels. This time it's a somewhat larger character, although still just a "spear carrier," an important but not a central character.

Anne McCaffrey, whose Pern is in some ways similar to the Valdemar books, in "Masterharper of Pern," did something similar. She took a "spear carrier" who had appeared in many books and wrote his history. And she noted somewhere, perhaps in the introduction, how hard it is to bring off right. One the one hand, it's pleasant to wander through the fringes of earlier stories, recognizing bits and pieces; on the other hand, you absolutely know how it is all going to come out, and the possibilities for inconsistencies are very great.

Lackey does an okay job with the inconsistencies. Reviewers who note apparent problems with the naming of Companions Haven't Been Paying Attention... A few do creep in, but they are minor. And Lackey manages to sneak in a great deal of information about Alberich, the exile from Valdemar's enemy who became a Herald, and about what really happened when Queen Selenay was attacked by her husband.

But it's hard to walk through the very considerable amount Lackey has written about Valdemar and its history, develop any kind of plot suspense, and not baffle readers new to the series.

While it's nice to have a new Valdemar book, I'm looking forward to a return to the larger themes of the "Winds" and "Storm" series, as opposed to the less interesting, less imaginative character studies and personal histories in the "Owl" series, in "Brightly Burning" and now in "Take a Thief."

Overall this is a good yarn. It's nice to wander the fringes of earlier stories - the "Arrow" series in particular - and to see Alberich at his devious best. You can feel Ms. Lackey's wonderful powers of imagination at work, but can also see how they are bound by what she has written before. It doesn't seriously distract from the tale, but it's much less captivating than the "Arrows" and "Winds" series, and far below her peak in the "Magic" trilogy.

Recommended, but not recommended as Lackey's best.

15 of 15 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Great fantasy, October 11, 2001

By	Harriet Klausner - See all my reviews (#1 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

This review is from: Take a Thief (Hardcover)

On Valdemar during the reign of Queen Selenay, his cold Uncle Londer Galko raises orphaned Skif as if the lad is a criminal. Though Skif laboriously works long hours at his uncle's Hollybush Tavern, his guardian sees the lad as a grudge earning his supper or dying.

Required to attend school due to the royal edict, Skif eats breakfast there and becomes efficient at hiding food to dine on later. His ability leads him to meet Deek, a pickpocket, and from that encounter, Bazie, an adult who cares what happens to his charges. Skif joins Bazie's family of young thieves and becomes one of the best at robbing from the wealthy as he could sneak in and out of a home like a ghost can walk through a wall. When Skif steals a horse left unattended, the "magical" steed abducts him instead. Now his adventures take a new spin especially when someone murders his beloved mentor and Skif must work with the Heralds and Alberich if he is to see justice is served.

For long time fans of Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series, TAKE A THIEF is quite a treat as Skif first appears in the mid 1980s Heralds of Valdemar trilogy. The story line is well written and fits quite nicely in the Valdemar Universe circa 1376 AF. Skif may be young, but is a survivor who given the opportunity heroically thrives. The support cast provides depth to the plot while insuring continuity to the main tales. Ms. Lackey's latest fantasy epic lacks nothing except many sub-genre fans will scramble for other books describing life during the reign of Queen Selenay.

Harriet Klausner

11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars From Tatters to Treasures, July 31, 2002

By	Virginia Lore "rumtussle" (Seattle, WA United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

This review is from: Take a Thief (Hardcover)

Mercedes Lackey's Take a Thief is the tale of Skif, a young orphan reminiscent of Oliver Twist, making his way in the knock-and-tumble neighborhood between two of Haven's outermost walls. Skif is intelligent, good-hearted and creative enough to forage up three meals a day in a place where food is scarce and kindness almost unheard of. After a chain of events leave him homeless, Skif lands in the lair of Bazie, an Faginish ex-mercenary who trains thieves.

If you've never read a novel of Valdemar before, take heart: Take a Thief stands alone and serves as a good introduction to that land. Lackey is a wonderful writer with particular talent for setting a scene and drawing you into the life of a sympathetic character. Though Skif speaks in heavy dialect, Lackey writes his speech with a skillful hand so that the dialect is not disruptive.

The flaws in the story are few, but noticeable. Lackey draws her peripheral characters almost too well, so that one feels cheated when a character disappears from the scene and doesn't ever get another mention. The pacing of the book is perfect for the first 75% of the story, but then speeds up too much as it approaches the big climax. As a result the story wears a little bit thin towards the end as you begin to suspect that Lackey may be on a bit of a soapbox here.

Still don't let that deter you. Though this book may only deserve 3 or 3 and a half stars for technical merit, it is still a thoroughly enjoyable read.