"Here's the plan, twits. Mama gave me leave to say it," Tricks added, with a touch of majesty, "so I'm gonna. So listen up."

Squim belched loudly in response. Galley and Marlo remained silent, ears open. Galley tipped his cap up ever so slightly, as though it were an impediment to his hearing.

"We're headed to Uppers. You already knew that, right? Right. S'here we go. We're all gonna steal this time 'round. If me'n the worm here tried to get attention we'd prob'ly be shot or tortured or somethin'." She stopped briefly to cough and spit. "I don't feel like getting' tortured, no, so we're not doin' that." Squim nodded sagely, as if to punctuate her words, and added several obscenities to the mix.

"Shut it, worm! So we get up there, and we pinch 'em pockets. You got me? Don't get saw, or you're dead. They'll all be watchin' the hag, probably. Be fast, yeah. That's the plan. Any objects?" Tricks could never pronounce the word in its entirety, so she left it at that. Marlo shook his head; Galley tipped the brim of his cap in acquiescence to the plan. It was rather loose-ended, giving him any number of chances to ply his trade.

And he was good. Galley had the nimblest fingers out of any of them. Marlo, the second best of the group, was clumsy in comparison. Silent as the breeze, with the lightest of touches, Galley could snatch even the best guarded of purses. His most endearing trait, however, was that he did not look to be a thief: no, any person would judge him to be nothing more than a disadvantaged, yet clearly lovely little boy. Indeed, they would not have been far off, for he had the kindest demeanor amongst them all, and the most pliable mind. If any amongst the Sewer Rats had the capability to rise above the muck and mire of Lower Valua, it was he.

Marlo was probably the only one to realize this. As they trundled along, he gazed longingly at Galley's back. He envied Galley his intelligence, his resolve. More than that, though, Marlo desired to emulate Galley's sense of optimism: he still had daring, expansive dreams contained in his head. Marlo couldn't recall ever having any dreams past a nice bed and a warm meal. Such was the lot of an orphan in Valua, or any citizen, for that matter: their ideals were crushed by a thoroughly uncaring, autocratic regime that held all the power. Wishing for such simple pleasures as proper clothing and a full belly was common.

Not in Galley, though. He'd spoken before, to Marlo, of everything he'd dreamed of. One day, he'd be an admiral in the armada. Maybe even king. He'd get them all out of there – yes, even Squim – and make them all rich. They would change Valua. People wouldn't have to pick through the garbage for food ("I doubt there's any place like that," Marlo had thought to himself dubiously). Everybody would be equal. Yeah, that sounded nice, didn't it? Marlo had thought it a very far-fetched dream; but, watching Galley's eyes, he knew the young man would make good on many of those claims. He had the power to do so.

They traveled on. The tunnels twisted and twined unendingly, yet not a one of them lost a sense of their positioning. They'd all grown up in these tunnels, more or less, and knew every nook and cranny like the back of their hand. Darkness was no hindrance; new piles of garbage, simply a part of the ever-changing backdrop. The destination of each tunnel never changed. After an hour of silent traveling, they arrived, and not a one of them was in doubt of where they were.

There was the ladder, and above it, the so-called 'Uppers'. Just thinking about those snot-nosed brats and pampered dilettantes made Tricks spit and curse to herself. Yet, what lay within the folds of their clothes, that was delicious. It would equal food – maybe something better than sky sardis on a bun, for once – and, perhaps, some logs for the fire. Who knows? Perhaps Mama would be able to buy them a house if they did exceptionally well. And those elites, well, they'd get along just fine minus several thousand gold pieces.

Slipping up the ladder, Tricks pushed hard against the thick manhole cover. With a groaning lurch it slid open, ever so slowly, much to Squim's delight: he called out "Ki la la la!" rather raucously, dancing about, before finding Tricks dislodged shoe planted firmly in his face. She called out a quick, hushed threat to him, told him to keep quiet, ordered Marlo to grab her shoe and bring it up, and clambered out into the streets of Upper Valua. The rest of the Sewer Rats followed suit, Squim nursing an injured nose as he went.