A/n: Now, I promise I'll do the ball scene tomorrow, but tonight, I have writer's block! So instead, because something different gets my creative juices flowing, the George and Briar scene. Hey, you ask, you get. ;)

Briar had slipped out of the ball early. Sandry always dragged him along to these things, and he had long perfected the art of surreptitiously but very quickly getting out of them. Now he was roaming the streets of Corus.

Briar was a street rat by birth, and it was in his blood. Years of education in the temple had civilised him, but he would always, in some tiny part of himself, be a street rat, and he knew cities. You knew one, you knew them all. And he knew how they worked. In a big city full of alleys and a reasonable amount of crime like this one, there would always be those who didn't recognise the king, or his councillors, or any flouncy courtiers. But people needed guiding, ruling, they needed laws-even thieves and criminals. Briar wanted to know how the city really worked, and that meant finding out who was really running it.

He was moving silently through the streets, his minded running overtime. Was that shadow a little to deep? Was that the wind, or was there somewhere behind him? E felt more alive then he had in months. Here, on the streets, life was simple. He knew what was going on. And he knew what was about to happen, because he could see a moving glint in that alley over there…

He was not disappointed. He let his guard down deliberately. He had to look like an easy target. Sure enough, in moments he could feel a knife point pricking his neck.

"Don't move a muscle," Murmured a soft, soothing voice. Briar grinned, and then flipped the man backwards over his head, gently. He didn't want to hurt him, after all. There was a muffled sound, somewhere between a scream and a gasp, and the figure in Briar's hand started writhing desperately. Briar forced him to the ground and put a knee on his chest. Glancing over the man quickly, the ex-rat nodded, satisfied. He hadn't lost his touch; the man had no more then a few bruises.

"Listen up, an' listen good." Briar growled, softly, slipping back into street-slang. "I wanna' know how ya' get to the head guy in this city, an' I don't mean the guy in the palace. Right?"   

The man nodded mutely, and waited for Briar to give him permission to speak. He seemed to know how this worked. It had probably happened to him before. Briar slipped a knife out of one of his wrist-sheaths. He still carried them, despite all the protests of his teachers. Hauling the man up, he placed a knife at the back of his neck. "Go on." He muttered. "'member, one false move…"

The man didn't seem inclined to protest, but lead Briar through a winding maze of alleyways. Briar kept track. You learned fast on the streets never to trust anyone. It did not take long to reach their destination. Briar raised an eyebrow. It was an inn. This man must be important, if he can afford to have his quarters in an inn, he mused with newfound respect. He was going to enjoy this meeting.

They slipped in through the front door. Briar noted with interest that it was creaked loudly-no doubt to give the people within due warning of the arrivals. Clever.

The man wound his way through tables, Briar still behind him. They got a few funny glances, but no downright stares, which either meant that this happened often or that people in here didn't stare. Or both. The man lead Briar to a table right in the centre. A man was sitting in the shadows.

Briar's guide whined, "Sire, this 'ere boy got me in the street. Said he wanted to talk to yer' majesty."

Briar's eyes opened wide. Nobody back home had ever managed to keep the title of king of the thieves for more then a few weeks; all the other gangs would, well, gang up on him. This man had to be good. 'His Majesty' lifted his head, and grinned. His voice was harsh, but not cruel.

"Ah, gettout, Poison. You get caught far too often. Stick to the assassinations."

Despite himself, Briar chuckled. Most gang leaders would have killed the man-Poison-or at least hit him. This King was interesting.

The King, indeed, gestured to a chair. "Sit down, lad. You wanted to see me?"

 Briar nodded. "I'm new here," he explained, thinking fast, "And I wanted to know how this city was really run. How does it work? The gang system?"

The man shook his head, laughing.

"Gangs! Inefficient. No gangs in Corus, not for years. I rule this city, my friend, or at least the shadowed side of it. This is the Court of the Rogue, as we call it. My title's King of the Rogue- you can call me George, mind- and I've more subjects in the city then anyone in the palace. Ay, but they don't bother with my realm, and I don't bother with theirs. Care for a drink?"

And, true to his title, George smiled roguishly, and ordered them both drinks.