Thanks to my latest reviewers! * mutters * Or, reviewER...Here's the next
chapter.
Disclaimer: Guess who I own and who own's the rest that I don't own.
I awoke to somebody shaking my shoulder. Groaning, I opened my eyes to find Eve standing over me. So it hadn't been all a dream. I really WAS stuck in this book-world.
"You're not making any friends here, you do know that?" I asked her, annoyed, as she helped me to my feet. (A/N: That line's from a British comedy series called "Blackadder". I found it funny, so I put it in. It means that someone's being annoying.)
Eve gave me a half-smile. "Everything's figured out, now," she told me. "I explained to Damien and Asric what happened." The smile faded. "They didn't really believe me..." Brightening, she said, "But I really can't blame them. You an' Zarif look exactly alike. You two cou' be twins."
So the girl, Zarif, looked like me. Identical brown skin, green eyes, brown hair... I could just picture it.
"Who IS this Zarif?" I asked her, looking around the room. It was now empty except for us, but the torches were still burning. Eve's fire had disappeared.
"She's part o' the Rogue-thieves court." I nodded. "She's the best as they come, or for our age, anyways. She's been on the streets for years; some people say since she were born. The King-that's the head o' the Rogue, Jorshan righ' now-uses her on the streets, mainly pickin' purses and robbing the shops, but at the Palace too, burglin' some. She can throw knives, ride, use a bow, sword-everythin'. She's never been in the King's-I mean the REAL king, King Jon'than-Forest 'fore, so that's why I said yesterday I was surprised at that, bein' so good as she is."
I thought about this a moment, then said, "So you believe me."
Her sea-green eyes locked into my own. "Yes."
I sighed. "Good. At least someone does. By the way, where did the guys go- Damien and Asric?"
"Back to the Dancin' Dove-Rogue headquarters."
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to a bag a just realized she was holding.
"Oh-these is some new clothes for ye." Eve took some ragged clothes out of the bag: some black britches, a white shirt with a rip in one sleeve, a dark green tunic, and a black sash. She shoved them into my arms. "We dint want you to be too notice'ble. Even if ye weren't from another world, ye still look like Zarif, and lookin' like Zarif righ' now is bad. Every shop in the district wants 'er head, and she's trouble for my Lord Provost all right."
Provost...wasn't that some kind of title for a jailer or something?
"Ye better'd change. We gotta get outta here soon. Hey-and we need to find ye a healer for that wrist. It's broken. Must've been from yer fall." She turned away.
Oh yeah, my wrist. I brought it close to my face. It looked perfectly fine. It looked-HEALED. I moved it around. It didn't hurt at all. It was as if the break had never happened. "Uh-Eve," I said, my voice shaky. "It-it's not-"
"What?" she turned back.
I moved the wrist for her. "It's not broken anymore."
"Huh?"
"It-it doesn't hurt. And it looks fine."
She took my hand and felt the bones. "Yer right..that's odd. Yer not a healer, are ye?"
"A healer?" My face must've looked pretty blank, because Eve laughed, like I had made some joke.
"Have ye got the healing magic?"
I stared at her. "Magic?" She had to be kidding. There was no such thing as magic...Was there? That thing I had seen yesterday-the golden fire-it had to be just some light, right?
"Yeah, magic. What, ye ain't got magic on Earth?"
I shook my head in awe.
She looked surprised. "That's weird. There's four sorts of magic, really...The Gift-that's what I got"-then she HAD made the fire-"Wild Magic- ye can talk to animals, like-the Sight-lets you see things in the present, past or future-and healing. You can make hurt or broken things better." She looked meaningfully at me.
"I haven't got magic," I quickly said.
"It WOULD be strange if ye DID have it," Eve admitted. "Zarif didn't." Leaving it like that, she turned then slipped out the door. "I'll wait for ye out 'ere."
Shaking my head, I quickly changed into the clothes, wondering how they could have ever been popular. No more baggy jeans, Nikes, or dude chains for you, I thought. I kept my shoes and socks on, thinking about how horrible they clashed with my clothes. I had made a point not to where anything brighter than gray for several years (gray's best if you're out at night), and felt slightly uncomfortable wearing bright colors. I stuffed my old clothes in the bag, along with the book, then headed out to where Eve was.
Directly after the door was a staircase winding up, which I almost tripped over. It was too made of stone, just like the walls. I guessed we were in a basement of sorts.
"Ready?" Eve asked. She checked me over.
"Yup," I replied, although I wasn't really. I had to kinda go to the bathroom and my stomach felt like it was touching my backbone. In other words, I was HUNGRY. Plus my teeth felt dirty, my hair wanted (yes, wanted- not needed) to be brushed, and I wished that we could go someplace warmer. It was freezing in these stone rooms, and I never had liked the cold.
"Ye seem to be missin' something..." the girl though aloud. "I wonder...Oh! I know. Here-" She pulled up her sleeves to reveal several sheathed knives. She smiled sweetly at me. "Weapons." Unsheathing two of them, she asked, "Ye know how t'use knives?"
"Of course." I had often used knives back in Chicago. In fact, at least once a week, me and some friends would pick up all the knives we could find in our houses or wherever we happened to be living at the time, then meet downtown behind an old building and practice throwing them. We were getting pretty good until some cops found us and took all the knives away, brought us home, and told us we couldn't go there anymore, unless we wanted to get in some serious trouble. (I had gone back less than a week later.)
"Good," Eve said, handing them to me. "Put 'em by yer wrists-you can get 'em out the fastest that way."
I tested the blade; a small trickle of blood ran down my finger and into my palm. Good. It was sharp. I licked away the blood away then slid the knives into my sleeves.
"Let's go."
I followed her up the stairs. We stopped a door at the top, which was apparently locked. Eve knocked twice, tapped once, then rattled the doorknob. The door opened, and a broad man poked his head out from inside.
"Oh," he said, admitting us. "It's on'y ye, Eve." He stepped back.
The man was massive, probably four feet wide, and short. He looked quick though, and nimble, like he had seen it all and could out-smart you any day. His skin was deathly pale, and he wore a black cloak over his black britches and full-sleeved white shirt. His eyes were like tiny black coals, but they held a laughable twinkle. A sharp goatee looked odd on his stout figure, but also made him look dignified.
"Randi," Eve introduced me, "This is Lord Chester of Everdale. He runs the crib."
The lord winked at me. "Just Chet, to me friends."
"I guess you heard about me," I commented icily.
"I might've," he said. "But on'y that ye and Zarif 'ave swapped spots, from Damien and Asric."
"We didn't SWAP," I said loudly. "I-"
"S'kay, Randi," Eve interrupted quickly. Looking up at Lord Chester, she said, "Thanks for everythin', Chet. We'd gotta be goin' now, though-Jorshan wants us back at the Dancin' Dove."
"Sure," the man said. "I've got more people comin' in anyways. You two be careful now, ye hear? I don't want anyone comin' to my door sayin' you've been picked up by m'Lord Provost."
Eve grinned at him then pulled me through the house and to a door. She opened it and ushered me out.
"What was THAT 'bout?" I asked as soon as we were outside. "Why didn't you want me to-"
"Listen, Randi," Eve sighed. "Just-just don't be tellin' no one that yer from...Earth, 'kay? It might upset certain people." She shifted uneasily.
"Upset? Who would it upset?"
"I don't matter. It's just that we don't want this thing goin' 'round, righ'? So just be quiet 'bout it." Eve began to walk down the street.
I stood there a moment, thinking. What would the people of Tortall do if they knew I was from another planet? Somehow, in the pit of my stomach, I knew they wouldn't like it, and wouldn't react well. I ran to catch up with Eve.
"Are we going back to the Dancing Dove?" I asked. "Do they got food there?"
"Yup," the girl replied, looking straight ahead. She turned a corner. "But getting' food 'ere will be easier."
We had turned into a wider street. If it had been on Earth, it might've been ten lanes wide. And every part of it was filled with some sort of shop, stall, or store. There were little booths selling trinkets and jewelry, and dark men holding onto horses, yelling out prices in a foreign tongue. A long exhibit guarded by mean-looking men held all different sorts of weapons-weapons I had never seen before and certainly never used. There were spiked balls on chains, shiny metal daggers, and poles with sharp- looking ends. One of those could go right through someone, I though excitedly. We passed stalls carrying beads and breads, fish and exotic fruits, cloth and books, shoes and boots, makeup and mirrors. And every inch was filled with people, either dressed in street clothes like us or frivolous gowns and coats.
Eve curved in around me and pointed to a collection of cakes, while muttering "here" in my ear. "C'mon, cousin," she said, loud enough for the people around us to hear. "Mother said we needed to get some cakes."
We stepped up to the stall selling cakes, and she started to examine a few. The woman behind the table, who was wearing a blood-colored dress, eyed us warily. "Keep yer grubby hands off," she spat. "I don't want no dirt on me cakes."
Eve moved over to her. "What's the price on these?" she questioned, nodding towards some large cakes covered in white frosting. Under the table she kicked me in the shin.
On cue I quietly slipped some cakes into the bag at my side, while the woman told Eve, "Those is on special today. On'y a gold noble each."
"A gold noble?!" My partner pretended to look outraged. "On special, you say? No, I don't think we'll be taking any, thanks all the same." She moved away, and I followed, as the woman shot us a look that could kill.
As soon as we were in the crowd, Eve grabbed the bag from me. "Yum," the commented, studying its contents. Looking up at me, she asked, "You've done this before?"
"You'd be surprised," I replied.
We shared the cakes as we walked. The flour tasted coarser than usual, but the cakes were sweeter than what I was used to. And the frosting was rich and creamy. "Who was that? That woman at the shop?"
Eve giggled. "Oh-that's Missus Currell. She's got a reputation for bein' low and cheatin' her customers."
Somehow we found this very funny, because Eve was a thief calling a merchant-now where did that word come from? I though to myself-low. It felt good to laugh, and I thought for the first time that maybe I might survive my stay here.
***
Ten minutes later we were entering a small, run-down inn with a sign out front that read "The Dancing Dove". The common room was smoky, and quite a few people-all thieves, I suspected-were sitting at small wooden tables in groups, or laughing rowdily at the bar, or leaning against the walls, whispering. There were even a couple small children about, running in and out with food and tips. Several women in extremely tight gowns and makeup were sitting on the laps of satisfied-looking men. Eve went up right up to the front table, ignoring all the noise and people. I followed close behind her, not wanting to get lost in this mess. A woman sat at the front table, giggling and eyeing a tall man at the bar.
"Hey, Rispah," Eve greeted the woman. "Jorshan 'round?" (A/N: I dunno if Rispah left the Rogue or not, like George did; I haven't read any of the Kel books. For now, she's in it.)
Tearing her eyes away from the man, the woman, who was apparently Rispah, managed to reply, "Yeah-'e is up in 'is chambers. You wanna see 'im? He ain't busy righ' now."
"Yeah. Thanks."
I followed Eve to that back of the crowded room, and up a flight of wooden stairs. She led me down a dark hallway until we reached a set of double doors at the end. My guide knocked on the door, and a servant answered it immediately. He let us in, then backed away into a corner.
"So this is Jorshan's rooms, eh?" I muttered to Eve.
The walls were wood, the floor covered with finely woven mats. Gold silk curtains covered the windows, and two doors led off probably to a bathroom and bedroom. We were standing in a small sitting room, with red chairs and walnut tables holding lamps.
"Not too bad," I said.
Eve started to reply but stopped when a man swept into the room. He was tall, with tanned skin and large hands and feet. His hair was a handsome chestnut, and it was tied back with a blue ribbon. His eyes looked like they were made of sapphires, they were so blue. He wore not street clothes but a blue silk jacket and britches, and white stocking that looked recently washed.
I frowned, then asked, "YOU'RE the King of Thieves?" It just popped out, and I knew it. But he looked like he belonged in some sort of palace, not an inn with a mildly funny name.
The man, Jorshan, raised an eyebrow. "This must be the imposter," he sniffed to Eve.
Eve glanced at me uneasily. "This is Randi. I dunno where Zarif is."
I huffed. "Imposter? Hello, I did not ASK to be transported into some friggin' book-world, thanks ever so much-"
Eve elbowed me in the side, hard. I shut up.
Jorshan ignored me. "Asric explained to me about the mix-up," he sighed airily, waving his servant away and settling down on one of the chairs. "I HARDLY believe it, of course, but...As you know, I am not one to criticize the Rogue." He took out a white lace-and there's nothing else to call it- handkerchief, and blotted his forehead with it. It wasn't even sweaty. "Damien delivered the supplies to Arien. I'm assuming that you will take care of...our guest," Jorshan said to Eve.
My ears burned. I wanted to pound that snobby little bastard's face in. What was Eve thinking, bringing me to him?
"Of course, yer Majesty," I heard Eve saying. "Thank ye. We'll be goin' now."
The "King" dismissed us with a wave of his hand. Eve steered me out of the room. I blew up just outside.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" I yelled. "Oh," I said, mimicking his voice, "this must be the IMPOSTER. Gods FORBID-"
"Will ye be quiet?" hissed Eve, clearly unsettled. "I KNOW he's an ass, but 'e's King, and we gotta listen to 'im."
"And who says?" I demanded, stopping Eve with a hand. "Who says I gotta listen to that white-faced old fart in there, eh? I'm not-"
Eve erupted into giggles. "White-faced old fart?"
"I'm not part of your Rogue," I finished, still angry. "And as long as I'm not, I don't have to listen to your King." I stalked down the hall. "I'll let myself out," I called over my shoulder to Eve. "Don't bother trying to find me."
She started to protest, but I was already leaping down the stairs and out the door of the Dancing Dove.
I was alone.
Disclaimer: Guess who I own and who own's the rest that I don't own.
I awoke to somebody shaking my shoulder. Groaning, I opened my eyes to find Eve standing over me. So it hadn't been all a dream. I really WAS stuck in this book-world.
"You're not making any friends here, you do know that?" I asked her, annoyed, as she helped me to my feet. (A/N: That line's from a British comedy series called "Blackadder". I found it funny, so I put it in. It means that someone's being annoying.)
Eve gave me a half-smile. "Everything's figured out, now," she told me. "I explained to Damien and Asric what happened." The smile faded. "They didn't really believe me..." Brightening, she said, "But I really can't blame them. You an' Zarif look exactly alike. You two cou' be twins."
So the girl, Zarif, looked like me. Identical brown skin, green eyes, brown hair... I could just picture it.
"Who IS this Zarif?" I asked her, looking around the room. It was now empty except for us, but the torches were still burning. Eve's fire had disappeared.
"She's part o' the Rogue-thieves court." I nodded. "She's the best as they come, or for our age, anyways. She's been on the streets for years; some people say since she were born. The King-that's the head o' the Rogue, Jorshan righ' now-uses her on the streets, mainly pickin' purses and robbing the shops, but at the Palace too, burglin' some. She can throw knives, ride, use a bow, sword-everythin'. She's never been in the King's-I mean the REAL king, King Jon'than-Forest 'fore, so that's why I said yesterday I was surprised at that, bein' so good as she is."
I thought about this a moment, then said, "So you believe me."
Her sea-green eyes locked into my own. "Yes."
I sighed. "Good. At least someone does. By the way, where did the guys go- Damien and Asric?"
"Back to the Dancin' Dove-Rogue headquarters."
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to a bag a just realized she was holding.
"Oh-these is some new clothes for ye." Eve took some ragged clothes out of the bag: some black britches, a white shirt with a rip in one sleeve, a dark green tunic, and a black sash. She shoved them into my arms. "We dint want you to be too notice'ble. Even if ye weren't from another world, ye still look like Zarif, and lookin' like Zarif righ' now is bad. Every shop in the district wants 'er head, and she's trouble for my Lord Provost all right."
Provost...wasn't that some kind of title for a jailer or something?
"Ye better'd change. We gotta get outta here soon. Hey-and we need to find ye a healer for that wrist. It's broken. Must've been from yer fall." She turned away.
Oh yeah, my wrist. I brought it close to my face. It looked perfectly fine. It looked-HEALED. I moved it around. It didn't hurt at all. It was as if the break had never happened. "Uh-Eve," I said, my voice shaky. "It-it's not-"
"What?" she turned back.
I moved the wrist for her. "It's not broken anymore."
"Huh?"
"It-it doesn't hurt. And it looks fine."
She took my hand and felt the bones. "Yer right..that's odd. Yer not a healer, are ye?"
"A healer?" My face must've looked pretty blank, because Eve laughed, like I had made some joke.
"Have ye got the healing magic?"
I stared at her. "Magic?" She had to be kidding. There was no such thing as magic...Was there? That thing I had seen yesterday-the golden fire-it had to be just some light, right?
"Yeah, magic. What, ye ain't got magic on Earth?"
I shook my head in awe.
She looked surprised. "That's weird. There's four sorts of magic, really...The Gift-that's what I got"-then she HAD made the fire-"Wild Magic- ye can talk to animals, like-the Sight-lets you see things in the present, past or future-and healing. You can make hurt or broken things better." She looked meaningfully at me.
"I haven't got magic," I quickly said.
"It WOULD be strange if ye DID have it," Eve admitted. "Zarif didn't." Leaving it like that, she turned then slipped out the door. "I'll wait for ye out 'ere."
Shaking my head, I quickly changed into the clothes, wondering how they could have ever been popular. No more baggy jeans, Nikes, or dude chains for you, I thought. I kept my shoes and socks on, thinking about how horrible they clashed with my clothes. I had made a point not to where anything brighter than gray for several years (gray's best if you're out at night), and felt slightly uncomfortable wearing bright colors. I stuffed my old clothes in the bag, along with the book, then headed out to where Eve was.
Directly after the door was a staircase winding up, which I almost tripped over. It was too made of stone, just like the walls. I guessed we were in a basement of sorts.
"Ready?" Eve asked. She checked me over.
"Yup," I replied, although I wasn't really. I had to kinda go to the bathroom and my stomach felt like it was touching my backbone. In other words, I was HUNGRY. Plus my teeth felt dirty, my hair wanted (yes, wanted- not needed) to be brushed, and I wished that we could go someplace warmer. It was freezing in these stone rooms, and I never had liked the cold.
"Ye seem to be missin' something..." the girl though aloud. "I wonder...Oh! I know. Here-" She pulled up her sleeves to reveal several sheathed knives. She smiled sweetly at me. "Weapons." Unsheathing two of them, she asked, "Ye know how t'use knives?"
"Of course." I had often used knives back in Chicago. In fact, at least once a week, me and some friends would pick up all the knives we could find in our houses or wherever we happened to be living at the time, then meet downtown behind an old building and practice throwing them. We were getting pretty good until some cops found us and took all the knives away, brought us home, and told us we couldn't go there anymore, unless we wanted to get in some serious trouble. (I had gone back less than a week later.)
"Good," Eve said, handing them to me. "Put 'em by yer wrists-you can get 'em out the fastest that way."
I tested the blade; a small trickle of blood ran down my finger and into my palm. Good. It was sharp. I licked away the blood away then slid the knives into my sleeves.
"Let's go."
I followed her up the stairs. We stopped a door at the top, which was apparently locked. Eve knocked twice, tapped once, then rattled the doorknob. The door opened, and a broad man poked his head out from inside.
"Oh," he said, admitting us. "It's on'y ye, Eve." He stepped back.
The man was massive, probably four feet wide, and short. He looked quick though, and nimble, like he had seen it all and could out-smart you any day. His skin was deathly pale, and he wore a black cloak over his black britches and full-sleeved white shirt. His eyes were like tiny black coals, but they held a laughable twinkle. A sharp goatee looked odd on his stout figure, but also made him look dignified.
"Randi," Eve introduced me, "This is Lord Chester of Everdale. He runs the crib."
The lord winked at me. "Just Chet, to me friends."
"I guess you heard about me," I commented icily.
"I might've," he said. "But on'y that ye and Zarif 'ave swapped spots, from Damien and Asric."
"We didn't SWAP," I said loudly. "I-"
"S'kay, Randi," Eve interrupted quickly. Looking up at Lord Chester, she said, "Thanks for everythin', Chet. We'd gotta be goin' now, though-Jorshan wants us back at the Dancin' Dove."
"Sure," the man said. "I've got more people comin' in anyways. You two be careful now, ye hear? I don't want anyone comin' to my door sayin' you've been picked up by m'Lord Provost."
Eve grinned at him then pulled me through the house and to a door. She opened it and ushered me out.
"What was THAT 'bout?" I asked as soon as we were outside. "Why didn't you want me to-"
"Listen, Randi," Eve sighed. "Just-just don't be tellin' no one that yer from...Earth, 'kay? It might upset certain people." She shifted uneasily.
"Upset? Who would it upset?"
"I don't matter. It's just that we don't want this thing goin' 'round, righ'? So just be quiet 'bout it." Eve began to walk down the street.
I stood there a moment, thinking. What would the people of Tortall do if they knew I was from another planet? Somehow, in the pit of my stomach, I knew they wouldn't like it, and wouldn't react well. I ran to catch up with Eve.
"Are we going back to the Dancing Dove?" I asked. "Do they got food there?"
"Yup," the girl replied, looking straight ahead. She turned a corner. "But getting' food 'ere will be easier."
We had turned into a wider street. If it had been on Earth, it might've been ten lanes wide. And every part of it was filled with some sort of shop, stall, or store. There were little booths selling trinkets and jewelry, and dark men holding onto horses, yelling out prices in a foreign tongue. A long exhibit guarded by mean-looking men held all different sorts of weapons-weapons I had never seen before and certainly never used. There were spiked balls on chains, shiny metal daggers, and poles with sharp- looking ends. One of those could go right through someone, I though excitedly. We passed stalls carrying beads and breads, fish and exotic fruits, cloth and books, shoes and boots, makeup and mirrors. And every inch was filled with people, either dressed in street clothes like us or frivolous gowns and coats.
Eve curved in around me and pointed to a collection of cakes, while muttering "here" in my ear. "C'mon, cousin," she said, loud enough for the people around us to hear. "Mother said we needed to get some cakes."
We stepped up to the stall selling cakes, and she started to examine a few. The woman behind the table, who was wearing a blood-colored dress, eyed us warily. "Keep yer grubby hands off," she spat. "I don't want no dirt on me cakes."
Eve moved over to her. "What's the price on these?" she questioned, nodding towards some large cakes covered in white frosting. Under the table she kicked me in the shin.
On cue I quietly slipped some cakes into the bag at my side, while the woman told Eve, "Those is on special today. On'y a gold noble each."
"A gold noble?!" My partner pretended to look outraged. "On special, you say? No, I don't think we'll be taking any, thanks all the same." She moved away, and I followed, as the woman shot us a look that could kill.
As soon as we were in the crowd, Eve grabbed the bag from me. "Yum," the commented, studying its contents. Looking up at me, she asked, "You've done this before?"
"You'd be surprised," I replied.
We shared the cakes as we walked. The flour tasted coarser than usual, but the cakes were sweeter than what I was used to. And the frosting was rich and creamy. "Who was that? That woman at the shop?"
Eve giggled. "Oh-that's Missus Currell. She's got a reputation for bein' low and cheatin' her customers."
Somehow we found this very funny, because Eve was a thief calling a merchant-now where did that word come from? I though to myself-low. It felt good to laugh, and I thought for the first time that maybe I might survive my stay here.
***
Ten minutes later we were entering a small, run-down inn with a sign out front that read "The Dancing Dove". The common room was smoky, and quite a few people-all thieves, I suspected-were sitting at small wooden tables in groups, or laughing rowdily at the bar, or leaning against the walls, whispering. There were even a couple small children about, running in and out with food and tips. Several women in extremely tight gowns and makeup were sitting on the laps of satisfied-looking men. Eve went up right up to the front table, ignoring all the noise and people. I followed close behind her, not wanting to get lost in this mess. A woman sat at the front table, giggling and eyeing a tall man at the bar.
"Hey, Rispah," Eve greeted the woman. "Jorshan 'round?" (A/N: I dunno if Rispah left the Rogue or not, like George did; I haven't read any of the Kel books. For now, she's in it.)
Tearing her eyes away from the man, the woman, who was apparently Rispah, managed to reply, "Yeah-'e is up in 'is chambers. You wanna see 'im? He ain't busy righ' now."
"Yeah. Thanks."
I followed Eve to that back of the crowded room, and up a flight of wooden stairs. She led me down a dark hallway until we reached a set of double doors at the end. My guide knocked on the door, and a servant answered it immediately. He let us in, then backed away into a corner.
"So this is Jorshan's rooms, eh?" I muttered to Eve.
The walls were wood, the floor covered with finely woven mats. Gold silk curtains covered the windows, and two doors led off probably to a bathroom and bedroom. We were standing in a small sitting room, with red chairs and walnut tables holding lamps.
"Not too bad," I said.
Eve started to reply but stopped when a man swept into the room. He was tall, with tanned skin and large hands and feet. His hair was a handsome chestnut, and it was tied back with a blue ribbon. His eyes looked like they were made of sapphires, they were so blue. He wore not street clothes but a blue silk jacket and britches, and white stocking that looked recently washed.
I frowned, then asked, "YOU'RE the King of Thieves?" It just popped out, and I knew it. But he looked like he belonged in some sort of palace, not an inn with a mildly funny name.
The man, Jorshan, raised an eyebrow. "This must be the imposter," he sniffed to Eve.
Eve glanced at me uneasily. "This is Randi. I dunno where Zarif is."
I huffed. "Imposter? Hello, I did not ASK to be transported into some friggin' book-world, thanks ever so much-"
Eve elbowed me in the side, hard. I shut up.
Jorshan ignored me. "Asric explained to me about the mix-up," he sighed airily, waving his servant away and settling down on one of the chairs. "I HARDLY believe it, of course, but...As you know, I am not one to criticize the Rogue." He took out a white lace-and there's nothing else to call it- handkerchief, and blotted his forehead with it. It wasn't even sweaty. "Damien delivered the supplies to Arien. I'm assuming that you will take care of...our guest," Jorshan said to Eve.
My ears burned. I wanted to pound that snobby little bastard's face in. What was Eve thinking, bringing me to him?
"Of course, yer Majesty," I heard Eve saying. "Thank ye. We'll be goin' now."
The "King" dismissed us with a wave of his hand. Eve steered me out of the room. I blew up just outside.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" I yelled. "Oh," I said, mimicking his voice, "this must be the IMPOSTER. Gods FORBID-"
"Will ye be quiet?" hissed Eve, clearly unsettled. "I KNOW he's an ass, but 'e's King, and we gotta listen to 'im."
"And who says?" I demanded, stopping Eve with a hand. "Who says I gotta listen to that white-faced old fart in there, eh? I'm not-"
Eve erupted into giggles. "White-faced old fart?"
"I'm not part of your Rogue," I finished, still angry. "And as long as I'm not, I don't have to listen to your King." I stalked down the hall. "I'll let myself out," I called over my shoulder to Eve. "Don't bother trying to find me."
She started to protest, but I was already leaping down the stairs and out the door of the Dancing Dove.
I was alone.