A Very Lucky Chance

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Anil stood erect, holding the chains of a girl who was about his age. It was his first week of duty on Dras Leona's watch, and they'd decided he might as attend the sentencing day.

Because it was his first week and his superiors considered untried and stupid, they'd given him what they called a "petty three-strike". It meant that the prisoner had committed (or rather caught committing) three of the kinds of crimes the city called petty. These were prostitution, picking pockets, tax evasion, debt, etc.

He took the liberty of looking at the girl's hands to appear official. He knew that the higher guards had already examined them to count her prison tattoos, but he was bored nearly to tears, so he would do anything to pass the time. The girl had an orange snake tattooed around her left thumb and a yellow x tattooed on her right. So she was a thief and a whore.

"Whachoo lookin' for?" the girl asked sulkily.

"Why did you commit both crimes?" he asked her.

"If ya can talk so nice, why choo join the watch? Ya gotta be one o' them richies or sommat," she retorted. Anil looked at her. She certainly wasn't a "richy." She was short and skinny with light brown hair that she'd pulled back in a bun using a strip of leather that she'd undoubtedly stolen. Her skin was pale but freckled. She was most definitely a poor street rat.

The girl sucked in her breath after Anil refused to say anything in return and answered his question with, "Honest money's 'ard enough t' come by. So's dishonest money. Honest types' 'arder though. I did whatever I could."

Anil said nothing. He didn't pity her. She'd had two chances to reform her ways. She didn't need a third.

"So, whas gonna 'appen t' me?" she asked.

"Which one did you do this time?" Anil asked her.

"Put my 'and on some richy's purse," the girl replied.

"That'll most likely be fifteen lashes and the loss of your right hand," Anil said.

The girl sucked in her breath. Anil thought he saw a flash of fear pass through her hazel eyes. Well, she should've thought of the punishment before she did what she did.

Marin stared through the crowd. She was looking for an escape. There had to be one. There just had to be.

Cummon, girl, she told herself. They gave ya a greenie. Ya don get luck like that every day.

Marin knew she'd have to be the one to look after herself. It had been that way since she'd been eleven. Her father's general store had been robbed then, and the thieves had killed him. A group of tax collectors had taken everything and thrown Marin out onto the streets. All she'd gotten was a long daggerthat her father had said had belonged to her mother, who had left three days after Marin's birth.

She kept it hidden in her clothes at all times, and it was by far the most valuable thing she owned. She had had smaller knives, but the guards had taken them all away when they'd thrown her in jail. For some reason, though the guards had discovered every single one of her knives, even the one's she'd hidden in places she'd thought creative, they never found the dagger. That thing was bloody unnatural in Marin's opinion, but she'd never gotten rid of it. She wasn't entirely sure she'd have been able to either.

Of course, she hadn't thought she'd ever have use for it. She'd been optimistic enough to think that she'd find someone who would hire an eleven year old girl and that she'd be able to make enough money to get off the streets. Gods, she'd been naïve. After about a year on the streets, she'd gotten to the point where she managed to be enough money for food to eat every three days. A rich man had been walking by, and Marin hadn't been able to resist the sight of his purse. She'd snatched it quickly before he'd even noticed it and bought enough food with the money to satisfy her hunger.

That man had been fat and stupid, and the next time she'd picked the pocket of a man out of a crowd, a member of that watch had caught her. She'd only spent one night in jail, and she'd earned her first criminal tattoo.

Naturally, she'd been scared stiff by her first time in jail and decided to try to stay clean. She'd found work selling flowers for an elderly woman who was too tired to manage the stall. When her benefactor died, one of the women's sons took everything, and Marin had been without means once again.

That was when things went even more downhill for her morals. She'd needed new clothes, shoes, and some food. She hadn't been able to pick enough pockets and a part of her was still scared to try again. That was when she'd found a new way to make money.

Marin left the city to bathe in Leona Lake every few days during the warm months because her father had always made her do it when he was still alive and she'd wanted to keep at least one of his principles. A lonely middle-aged widower had noticed that she'd been fairly clean and not hideous on the eyes when she'd been skulking around a bar looking for an easy pocket to pick. He'd offered her a single silver crown for one night. Marin had been hungry then too, and that night, at the age of fourteen, she'd turned her first trick. She'd supported herself by that manner for a few months before a member of the watch caught her.

Though she spent two nights in jail this time instead of one, Marin hadn't been nearly as scared by this experience as the last one. She'd decided to take up picking pockets again when she was released, though she still sold herself occasionally.

She'd learned things from her occasional pocket picking customers, and she'd gotten better at the job herself. She could sprint fairly fast, and sometimes her fear of getting caught a third time could give her enough adrenaline to keep up a fast pace for almost ten minutes. Unfortunately, she'd misjudged a prospective pocket to be stupid, and the woman had shrieked almost the moment Marin touched her purse. The watch caught her with ease. This time, she'd spent three nights in jail and was about to be subjected to sentencing. She knew perfectly well that she might not be able to support herself in any way besides begging after this. The thought frightened her.

"Twelve days in the stocks; two years of indentured servitude," the judge said in a bored voice. He didn't even look at the man's face. Marin snapped out of her reverie and put her head up.

Oh bloody, she thought. She would be up there soon.

"I have wife and family to feed," the man protested. "Please, be merciful."

"Twelve days in the stocks; two years of indentured servitude. Two time failure to pay debt. That's what you get. You'd best get to your sentence," the judge repeated. He seemed to grow more bored with each word. Two members of the watch seized him.

Marin was considering the best way to get away from her guard. Her hands were bound, and he seemed much stronger than she. Maybe a good kick to the groin? But everyone would notice. Ugh.

Her eyes fell on a key in the boy's right pocket just a man ran into the square.

"Next," the judge called.

"Stop everything! Criminals are getting away!" the man shouted.

"I said next," the judge repeated. Marin wondered if he was slightly deaf.

"Drop everything! Chain the petty three strikes! I don't care! All I know is that if we don't catch whoever's getting away, Tábor'll have our heads if the king doesn't have his first!" the man shouted.

Marin grabbed the key from the guard's pocket as he turned his back to look at the man. He wrapped the chain attached to her handcuffs around a ramshackle building and dashed off to catch the serious criminals. So did everyone else. She looked around and saw no other petty three strikes. She almost laughed. She'd been last in the sentencing line and failed to notice. Thankfully, the judge had been ushered away to sentence the soon to be caught criminals.

She couldn't unlock the handcuffs with the key. She just couldn't hold it properly and unlock something the way she was bound. Marin squeezed her hand shut and pulled on it while pushing against the building with her foot.

"Ah…ah…ah!" she gasped as she pulled. It hurt like hell, but she'd freed one hand. And she'd dropped the key. She leaned over and tried to pick up the key. She twisted to the left and gasped. She'd already bruised her hand. Did she really have to strain her arm as well? Then again, if she didn't get away, she'd be short a hand, and fifteen lashes would hurt a hundred times worse than this. She found the key in the dirt and picked it up. She turned around and unlocked her other hand.

Because of the way she'd been leaning against the wall, she fell backwards into the dirt. She picked herself up and walked casually towards the gate. She most definitely was not an escaped petty three strike. Gods forbid anyone should think that.

She shoved her hands deep into the pockets she'd cut into her dress/shirt so that nobody would see her tattoos. Thankfully, her hair hid the mark they'd tattooed behind her ear. It meant she'd been caught for a third time. She strode just close enough to a noble lady and pulled a pair of gloves from the woman's left pocket. She quickly shoved her hands back into her pockets. She'd have to flee to Belatona, she decided. They'd have her name down and her markings. Her punishment would be doubled if they caught her again. Oh yes. She definitely had to leave.

As she rounded the corner to the gates, she saw that it was closing.

Damn, she thought. This was not good. She'd have to stay in the city until the morning. But that wouldn't work either. They'd check her hands and possibly her ear. She wanted thirty lashes and two hand amputations even less than she wanted fifteen lashes and one amputation.

Her eyes skimmed the gate. Why weren't there any parts that weren't being guarded? She casually put on one glove and transferred the other one to her other hand. She looked at them. They weren't half as nice as she'd thought they'd be. That might actually work to her advantage. She was about to find out how good she was at acting.

She walked up to the guard and said, "Please, lemme through. Me lil brother wen swimmin' in the lake. 'E ain't come back yet, and 'e shoulda been back an hour ago."

The guard didn't look convinced. Marin forced herself to cry. "Oh, please, cap'n, 'e's me da's only son. Me da'll kill me if I don get 'im back. It was me 'oo tol' 'im 'e could go swimmin', see?"

The guard still looked unconvinced. "Look for him in the morning, girl," he ordered.

"Oh, you're such a fine man. Honestly. I 'ope ya rot in your own piss your dog. Doomin' a lil boy t' death? Ya—"

The guard slapped and her, and she fell on the ground. The gates continued to close.

A group of soldiers rounded the corner. They were chasing two horses. One was white and carrying an old man. The other was gray and carrying a boy about her age.

A crowd separated the soldiers from fugitives.

Those must be the criminals who had given her a very lucky chance. Unfortunately, that chance was turning unlucky with every passing moment.

"Stop them!" a guard from the crowd shouted.

"What?" Marin's guard shouted. The girl took advantage of his distraction and rushed past him.

"Hey!" he shouted.

"Let 'er go," another man ordered. "She ain't worth it."

Okay, I know the first chapter wasn't that good. I hope Marin didn't come across as Sueish. I tried to give her some flaws, but if you think I can do something better or need to avoid doing something, please, tell me in your review. Please, review by the way. The idea of the petty three strike thing came from Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic Quartet. I changed it a bit though.