3. You've Hurt Me Like a Knife

Keilantra stepped down the creaking staircase in the dark. There was a musky stench about the air. Keilantra didn't like it. She took her coarse, rough cloak and covered her nose as she took each step carefully, trying to neither make a sound or trip over in the darkness. Her eyes were weary from a long day of hard work, but she had finished it and, relieved, she had to keep her promise. She certainly did lie a lot, but with something as important as her bow at risk, she had to go.

Every step she took caused a creak to go throughout the old house. First her toes, then her heels stepped on each step carefully, quietly, and slowly. She could feel it beneath her feet; if she wasn't careful she could wake someone up. The ladies had climbed into their cozy beds to sleep around the time the beggar requested Keilantra's presence. She was only desperately hoping that they were already asleep.

Keilantra finally reached out her foot to take another step, but rather it did not go down, but Keilantra felt the firmness of the gleaming floor of the entrance. She sighed before running quickly and quietly across it and began to slowly open the large door, letting moonlight flow in. It, also being old, creaked also as she shoved it open. The moonlit night was cold and damp, but she just had to go.

She gently stepped out and closed the door slowly behind her. She turned around and her face glowed brightly from the light of the moon. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide from fright. Her eyes shone as stars, only darker, with fear, hope, and anger. Her face was no longer black from the burnt soot it had so often been covered in, but was clean, besides her cuts that itched and stung on her face so horribly, despite the fact she struggled to resist the temptation to scratch them away.

She reached her dirty nails to her cloak and covered her face once more, so nothing but her mouth could be seen, as she stared at the hard, stony ground that she was to walk over. Her heart pounded against her chest as thoughts flowed through her mind. What if Lady Crouch hears me and comes to get me? What if someone in the night kidnaps me? What if I am attacked by a wild animal? Not one of her thoughts considered the chance that she would be absolutely fine.

She stepped out onto the path, feeling the crunch of the stones that covered it beneath her feet. She could feel them through her worn-out boots that were laced up past her ankle. She walked slowly for quite a few minutes more, until she was out of ear shot, and then she began to run, the hood that covered her head bobbing up and down, rocks flinging behind her. She had hoped that when she was away from the manor, her heart would stop pounding, and she wouldn't be afraid, but she couldn't help but feel even more fear.

She finally reached the marketplace. It looked different at night. Smells of baked bread, fresh meat, and burnt wood hung in the air. It felt musky all the same, for all fires were put out, and all shops were closed down. Keilantra felt a tingling feeling crawly up and down her spine and shivered, wrapping herself even more in the safety of her cloak.

The moon was still bright, but began to be slightly covered by the clouds that hid in the air at night. She remembered where the beggar had told her to go and followed the wooden signs that hung above the stores with her eyes until she spotted the blacksmith's sign, which she could barely see in the dark.

She took a deep breath before walking past it to go into the beggar's tent. She was surprised to see quite a large tent (large enough for at least five people to fit comfortably) with a small fire cackling right outside. Right beside it was a black horse that whickered at the sight of Keilantra. Keilantra began to step back, wondering if this could be the right place.

"Wait," a sleepy voice muttered from inside the tent. Then the beggars head emerged from it, looking dazzled and tired, and said, "I thought we agreed on eight." Keilantra nodded slowly and looked at the ground. The beggar could see that she was most certainly sorry. She didn't need to say anything. Sometimes her eyes could hold an entire conversation. He nodded back before saying again, "Come in." He backed into his tent. Keilantra walked around the fire, as far from the horse as possible, before entering after him.

It was a finely furnished place, for a tent at least, including a mat for which to sleep on, a fraction of a tree stump used as a table, a wooden chest filled with things Keilantra didn't know, and a lantern, glowing merrily, resting on the chest. The place looked like it hadn't been cleaned, nor moved for a while, as it smelled like dirt and spoiled food and looked like a faded shade of brown. The mat was wrinkled and lay messily in the corner of the tent. It was quite warm inside and Keilantra almost felt right at home, had it been that the beggar wasn't there.

"Take a seat," he gestured toward the tree stump, which was filled with all sorts of food stains and some fresh ones also. Keilantra reluctantly walked over to the stump, wiped off as much as she could, then she sat down upon it. She looked at him expectantly, but he did not say anything.

After a long silence Keilantra stood up, careful to keep her balance, and announced, "Why do you want me here? State your business so that I may be on my way!"

The beggar stood up threateningly beside her and Keilantra began to shrink, for she felt small and intimidated. "Who said I meant any business when I requested your presence? You aren't the first, wench. I meant for you to come to satisfy my need for company!"

Keilantra's courage came back to her and she yelled back at him, her eyes ablaze, "You have no right to call me wench, Señor! You have insulted me and do not trust me to stay here if you are to proceed in raising my temper!"

He stared down at her and laughed, his head back, his strong shoulder's heaving. It seemed to last forever. It was intimidating to Keilantra; not the kind of reaction she wanted him to have. The scoffing laugh seemed to play over again and again in her head. She could feel it in her bones, in her chest, it felt horrible and her cheeks burned bright red. "Is that all?" he finally stopped. "I would've thought it would be something important." He sat back down.

"Please," Keilantra glared at him with even more anger and hatred than that morning. "Just let me go home." She shook her head at him, not daring to sit down again, for she wanted to leave, and she was determined.

"No," he announced as simply as if he would've said, "Sit," or "Come." He didn't give a reason and Keilantra didn't talk back. She wanted to see why he needed her to stay so badly. He leapt off of the chest he was sitting on and opened the lid, the hinges creaking. Then he pulled out a clay dish in which sat a roast hare Keilantra wouldn't have dreamed of eating in her lifetime. Her eyes widened with joy and hope as she saw the dish be placed on the stump that was behind her. She licked her lips as the beggar turned to pull out some wooden cutlery from the chest before closing it with a dry click.

"What else is in there?" Keilantra questioned, in hopes that there might be more. She reached her dirty fingernails to her mouth again to bite them.

"Too much," he answered, sitting down on the floor by the stump. He beckoned her to sit down also and she sat down on the other side, pulling her dress up so that she could sit comfortably. "Now eat." He commanded, and Keilantra didn't hesitate. She tucked in ravenously, much to the beggar's enjoyment. He too began to eat, but spent the majority of his time watching Keilantra stuff her face. "The name's Dimitri," he told her. She nodded, but still proceeded in chewing every last scrap of meat off the bones. "I've been a beggar for ten years." Again, Keilantra nodded, not very interested. "I found myself on the streets when I was six." Keilantra nodded again. "I have a black mare named Rhonda." No matter how little or how much he told her about himself, she didn't care.

The hare was finished finally and all that was left on the dish were the bones which were completely clean. Keilantra smiled before muttering "Gracias." It took a lot for her to say that word to the one who she had so hated.

"No problem," he leaned back and began to question her. "So I've told you about myself, so why don't you tell me about yourself." He grinned something evil and she felt inclined to make up her whole history.

But she didn't. Keilantra simply skipped out on certain parts. She told him her name. She told him that she had been a slave all her life and her parents were peasants who were long dead. She told him that she slaved for a kind lady who gave Keilantra all the grace in the world and only made her work little jobs around the house.

"Such as cleaning the fireplace?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her, gesturing towards her soot stained dress. She hated his grin. It made her shudder and feel as if he hated her one moment and loved her the next moment.

Keilantra shrugged. "Maybe once, but not often." She stopped at that so she wouldn't be questioned further, and Dimitri went to his chest and pulled out five small white objects. He grabbed her hand and opened it before placing the little objects in it. Then he closed her hand again so that it was clenched over the objects. Then he leaned against the side of the tent.

"Do you know how to play?" he asked as if it were the simplest game in the world.

"How to play what?" Dimitri rolled his eyes and went next to her, taking the little objects back from her.

"They're called knucklebones," he announced. "And you play them like this." He began to toss one up in the air while picking others off the ground very quickly and skillfully. They clicked together every time he caught them. He was most certainly focusing on his game and Keilantra tried to do the same thing, but she looked up at his face, which was intent, stern, and playful at the same time. "Now you try." He put them in her hand again.

Keilantra tossed them up in the air before they all tumbled down to the floor on top of her, clumsily reaching her hands out to catch them, but missing all the same. She smiled sheepishly before trying again, with the same result. Dimitri again had to show her and she couldn't catch even one. He showed her something easier with two hands and still she missed them as they came on top of her.

"You are the most stubborn and clumsy girl I have ever met!" he finally gave up and thrust the knucklebones angrily into the chest.

"You are the most impatient and short-tempered boy I have ever met!" Keilantra snapped back and then mumbled under her breath, "And you haven't seen Jacqueline yet."

"You can't even catch a knucklebone!"

"They aren't human knucklebones are they?" she asked.

Dimitri laughed at the sudden change of subject. "Of course not!" he replied. "Killing a human is against the law of the prince. They are elf knucklebones."

Keilantra felt like yelling at him and losing her temper. But she decided he wasn't worth it. She kept her mouth shut. Elves were very defensive creatures, but she couldn't give herself away. Words were held at the roof of her mouth saying, "It's cruel, you short-tempered idiot! I am an elf! There is hardly a difference except elves are wiser! You dare to use such items that insult my race and tribe!" But she said nothing.

The silence lasted for a few moments. Then Dimitri finally stood up. "Do you like reading?"

"I love it."

"I have books." He walked over to his chest and leaned in. Keilantra strained her neck to get a peek into what was in the chest. But he had already pulled a box out and sat down again. It was fairly large. "Look." He opened it. It was filled with books of all kinds: fairy tales, romance stories, adventure stories, and more. There was at least ten. Keilantra's face was aglow with pleasure.

"Are they for me?"

"Idiot. Why do you think I got them out?"

Keilantra snatched them from his hands and began looking through them. It was so wonderful. It had taken her a couple of years just to save up for the few books that she had stored up in her quarters. Then she put them down and gave Dimitri a slight hug. "Thank you."

"Sure. What do you want to do?" Keilantra thought slowly. His mood was changing constantly, almost like he was bi-polar. She liked his good mood best, but he lost it quickly. She finally decided. "Can we sing something fun?"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Nearing the twenty-fourth hour, they had quiet thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They did certain things including quite a number of things ranging from drawing pictures in the sand outside to dancing around the fireplace to making shadows on the side of the tent with their hands. They now sat in the tent singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Keilantra smiled and sang with a hoarse voice, while Dimitri just threw his head back and let loose. Never before had Keilantra seen such a playful boy, whether beggar or prince.

Their song came to an end and Dimitri threw himself back on the floor of the tent, laughing uncontrollably. He suddenly straightened himself up and handed Keilantra a bottle. "Drink," he said. A regretful look crossed his face.

"What's wrong, Dimitri?"

"Nothing! Just drink!" Keilantra nodded quickly and began to drink. It tasted like wine, only fresher and sweeter, like syrup.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Elf sleeping syrup," he replied. "Sorry, Keilantra." Keilantra stared at him in horror. Then she collapsed, fast asleep. "I had to do it."

Dimitri slung her small body over his shoulder effortlessly and took her out of the tent just as a wagon began to be drawn down the silent street. Dimitri watched as it grew bigger and came closer. Finally, it stopped right outside his tent.

"Load her up!" a voice hissed from the front, where a caped figure sat.

"I've fulfilled my part of the deal; where's yours?" Dimitri threw Keilantra into the back of the wagon. A bag of coins was thrown into his hands.

"Fifty silver coins, as promised."

"Brilliant," Dimitri grinned, running his fingers through it. "Be on your way."

"Hiya!" a whip lashed out and the wagon started to move again. Dimitri stared after it and the small figure lying limply in the back.

"Bah! Get over it, Dimitri!" he told himself. He stepped into his tent again to get a good night's sleep. "Where's that cushion?" he began to rummage through his chest until he pulled something out. Something familiar. "Hm, she forgot her bow," he muttered to himself. He grinned slyly out the tent opening.

"Perhaps I should return it to her."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Bump!

Keilantra jerked awake as the wagon ran over something. Sold again. Seven years and no harm had come to her. She was almost kidnapped once. Almost sold twice. Almost killed thrice. Never had something truly dreadful like this happened before. Sleeping figures lay in the back of the wagon with her. Other servants and slaves, she figured. She looked out the back of the wagon. Sorrow, depression, anger, confusion. A mixture of expressions filled her eyes, hazy with tears to their brims.

Then she saw a figure. A strong, tall figure. A fast figure. A figure that began to gain on the wagon. It came closer. Yes, it was Dimitri, running after the wagon for all he was worth. Keilantra glared at him.

"Keilantra!" he whispered. "You forgot your bow." He opened the wagon and Keilantra tumbled onto the ground, the wagon still rolling. "Here," he handed it to her, smiling awkwardly.

Then the large clock sounded and Keilantra quickly realized how late it was getting. "I need to go," she said beginning to leave, but Dimitri ran out after her and grabbed her arm.

"Wait! Don't go yet!" he said. "I was enjoying myself with you! No one else has ever let me have this much fun!"

Keilantra stopped and turned to face him. "Your idea of fun is selling slaves to slave traders on the street?"

"No! It's my job! But it doesn't matter! I came back for you and I want you to stay!" he stammered.

"When I came to your tent... What did you mean when you said I wasn't the first?"

"Alright! I do force slaves, servants, beggars, and whatever else to come to my tent at night so I can sell them and make some money! But you are different! I actually enjoyed my time with you! I admit it, I am a thief and a slave trader as well as a beggar, but you are the only one I came back for!" His voice rose at Keilantra in frustration. She silently turned her back and began to walk away again. He didn't make her come to his tent that night because he saw something special in her. He forced her to come because he was greedy, selfish, a thief, and wanted money. Keilantra walked the same way she had come, her head hanging down, and pulled her hood forward more to cover her face. Dimitri wasn't following her anymore. "Do you know what?" he called to her. "I don't even care that you're leaving! You aren't my problem! Just because I saved you, it isn't like I'm in love with you or something!"

Keilantra didn't answer. She couldn't. She wouldn't. What would there be to answer? There was no reply. He hated her and she hated him. The enjoyment she had had only lasted for the brief time she was there. He said foul things. His mouth was a loaded cannon firing random things. He was a thief. Keilantra hung her head as she walked past the shops and signs that were in the way; she didn't notice them though. She had come as he had asked hadn't she? Now her bow was safe. Why was she still so upset? He's just a beggar.

How could he? He had no right to do that to her! He had no right to simply say that she was ugly and stubborn and clumsy and boring! She wasn't!

Was she?