#adevi

Her name was Adevi and she was the robber queen, pretty as a leopard, with a voice like rocks shaken in a cauldron, a tongue as swift as a whip, haunches hard as though carven. All night the thieves told tales of their exploits and she was at the center of most, her deeds more daring than any, her audacity outlandish. Above the brand on her forearm was a constellation of scars, one for every death at her hands, some of them recent. She could touch a scar and tell a tale of murder. Pico heard that night stories to rival any recounted in the books of the library, fifty locks picked to snatch a stick of silver, tower walls scaled towing laden swags, families murdered in their sleep, half a town set alight to reach a cache of rubies. He was appalled, enthralled.