Though years of thievery and natural inclination had given Eli a quick hand and inventive eye for improvised disguises, he always kept the staples on hand. There were some things you simply could not count on improvising. The moment he reached the floor of the warehouse, he ran to his pack and began pulling things out. He had a surprisingly large pile before he found what he was looking for: a small, carefully wrapped package tied with string. Eli undid the knots deftly and the package spilled open, revealing a cascade of golden, flowing hair, the crown jewel of his costume collection.
He shook the wig out a few times, but it needed very little. Wigs of this quality never did, if you stored them right. Eli didn’t know how much it had cost, but he guessed quite a bit since its previous owner, the Princess of Pernoff, had seen fit to store it in the safe with her jewels. Eli had relieved her of both that night, and though the jewels were long gone, the wig remained one of his favorite possessions.
Using his fingers, Eli brushed his short hair back until it was flat against his head, and then, leaning over, slid the wig on with practiced ease. When he came up again, he looked remarkably different. The pale golden locks hung in subtle waves around his face, setting off his pale skin in a way his own dark hair never had, making him look delicate and noble in a fragile way, something he took full advantage of.
“Powers,” Josef said, jumping off the ladder. “Not that thing again.”
“I’ll stop wearing it when it stops working,” Eli said, pinning the wig into its final position with a half-dozen tiny hairpins. “See if there’s anything workable in the crates. I saw one addressed to Freeman’s Clothier in Zarin that might have something good.”
Josef walked over to the pile of wooden boxes and began reading the faded shipping manifests. He had to move several to get to the crate Eli had mentioned, but when he cracked it open, they were not disappointed.
“Perfect,” Eli said, grinning.
Inside was a neatly folded stack of brocade jackets, obviously intended for some tremendously overpriced shop in Zarin. Eli pawed through them, finally picking out a garish red-and-gold peacock pattern that matched the wig perfectly and, as an added bonus, caused Josef to sigh in disgust. Unfortunately, the only coat in the box that would fit over Josef’s broad shoulders was a hideous green monstrosity that he refused to wear. Finally, Josef settled for a thick, black shirt from his own pack.
“I guess that will do,” Eli said and sighed. “Just be sure to scowl a lot; that way no one will get close enough to notice the mended stab holes and bloodstains.”
“I do wash it,” Josef said. “Anyway, it fits me better than the guy I took it off.”
Eli gave him a startled look. “I don’t think I want to hear any more about your brand of shopping.”
Josef shrugged. “It’s not like he was using it.”
Eli left it at that.
In the end, Josef decided to bring only the twin short swords he wore at his hips and the knives he could hide in his clothing. He and Eli agreed that walking into town covered in blades as he usually was would be asking for trouble, especially when they were trying to be discreet. Of course, this also meant Josef would have to leave the Heart, something Eli had a much harder time convincing him of.
“I don’t see why this is a big deal,” Eli said. “You hate having to use the Heart anyway.”
“That’s not the issue here,” Josef said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “It’s plain stupid to walk into an unknown situation, with armed men gathering in a city we know is a trap, and not bring our best weapon.”
“Come on,” Eli pleaded. “It’s common knowledge you’re with me these days. Carrying that thing is like walking around with a giant signpost: ‘Here’s Josef Liechten! Please stab!’ If you’re going to bring it, there’s no point in disguises at all.”
Josef scowled. “I don’t think—”
“Just leave it here,” Eli interrupted. “It’s not like it could get stolen anyway, seeing as you’re the only one who can pick it up. Besides”—Eli’s voice smoothed to warm honey—“you’re Josef Liechten, the greatest swordsman in the world. Surely you can take a few armed men without the Heart.”
Josef gave him a dangerous glare. “Don’t treat me like one of your idiot spirits.” He pulled the enormous black blade off his back and dropped it. It fell like a meteor, sticking point-first in the wood floor. “I’ll leave the Heart because you make a good case, but don’t ever try and con me again, Monpress.”