Disclaimer: George Cooper and the Dancing Dove are Tammys. The other characters and ideas are mine.

Summary: How George became the King of the Thieves

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, the computer with the story on it broke and I didn't want to rewrite it. Well, here it is, and it's extra long. Sorry again. :-)

Also, BIG thanks to Winna for beta reading this for me. :-D

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George backed up against the door, entirely overwhelmed as he watched the main room. The Dancing Dove was full - full of people, full of sound, even full of smells- there was an overabundance of alcohol, food, and perfume. His senses were reeling.

Over the roar of the room, he thought he heard his name being called. Tearing his eyes away from a quickly escalating game of dice, he searched for One Eye. When their eyes met, the older thief waved him over before turning back to his companion. George hesitated a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing himself off the door.

He struggled to make his way over to One Eye. The thief was standing on the far side of the Inn, leaning against a long table. Dodging around a giggling girl perched upon a drunken man's lap, George paused to watch as a fistfight between two men broke out next to him. When the flurry of fists came near him, he ducked and realized, too late, that that wasn't the ideal place to watch. Especially since a large crowd had formed in a ring around the pair, tossing George from side to side, pushing him closer to the fighting men. He turned and squeezed his way through the mass of bodies, trying not to get hit as they cheered on their friends.

Letting out a relieved breath, he saw light through the dark breeches, tunics, and dresses. One Eye and his companion hadn't even moved from their spot. Panting slightly, he reached them and smiled.

One Eye grinned back, correctly interpreting George's expression- it looked like the lad had just had the time of his life. "Who's winnin'?" he asked casually.

"I couldn't tell," the boy replied. "It was just a blur of colors and curses." The tone in his voice implied how impressed he was and One Eye's friend laughed.

"They sure know a lot of colorful language in the Dove, I'll give 'em that." George turned and stared at the man who spoke. Tall, with a commanding stature, he smiled easily down at him. Dirty blonde hair was cropped close to his head, revealing a single black eardrop that hung from his right earlobe. While his dark blue eyes seemed to study him, George got the impression that the man watched the entire room as well. Underneath his navy blue shirt and black breeches, George recognized the faint lines of daggers- commoners weren't allowed to wear weapons openly.

"This is Talek," One Eye introduced the man. "I've been telling him about ye. How ye saved my skin back in th' alley."

George felt his cheeks flame. "T'was nothin'," he proclaimed.

"T'was somethin' all right," One Eye retorted.

Uncomfortable discussing his warning, and more than curious, he turned to Talek. "Are ye a thief too?"

Talek chuckled. "I'm jus' a poor man, here for a mug of ale."

George frowned at his reply. Another one of the abilities his Sight gave him was the gift of sensing lies, and every word Talek just said was a falsehood. "Are ye sure yer not a thief?" he asked again, giving him a chance to tell the truth.

Talek raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure." He looked at One Eye, a warning apparent in his face. "Ye might want to watch this one's mouth." He jerked his thumb in George's direction.

One Eye nodded. "And?" He looked uncomfortably at George, and George got the distinct impression that he was trying to ask something without actually saying the words.

Narrowing his dark blue eyes, Talek studied him from head to toe. Finally he nodded. "You know where to find me," he told the thief before he turned and walked off into the crowded room.

George gave One Eye a questioning glance, but the thief just grabbed two mugs that were sitting on the long table. "I bought ye a lemonade, I figured ye were too young for ale." He nodded and took the mug- his ma would kill him if she ever found out he had been drinkin'.

Following One Eye over to a small table in the corner, he accepted the fact that his new friend wasn't going to tell him what had just gone on. But he had another worry. Taking a sip of his lemonade, he considered his words carefully, a rare feat for a boy so young. He set his tankard down with a thump, spilling the liquid onto the well-worn wood. "That man- Talek. Who is he really?"

One Eye set down his ale carefully, gray eyes shadowed. "He's jus' a man, lad. No one important."

At first he had thought that Talek was lying to One Eye too, but George could sense the lie in what he had just heard. "No," he told him stubbornly. "He lied. Jus' like yer doin' now." Besides, he already knew Talek was important.

Reaching up to scratch his head, One Eye studied him carefully. "Why are ye so sure we're lyin'?"

George said nothing, looking down and tracing the rim of his tankard with his finger. He didn't want to tell him about his Sight just yet. "I've jus' got a notion," he said finally.

Thankfully, One Eye decided not to press it any further. "I trust ye, lad, but there are some things ye can't know, at least not yet. I promise I'll tell ye whatever ye want to know about Talek when th' time is right."

If he wasn't taking a big swig of lemonade, he would have smiled. Every word One Eye had just said was the truth.

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The boy and the thief talked long after their respective drinks were gone. George learned more of One Eye's life as a lock picker, and in return, told him about his life with his ma. They didn't even realize how late it had grown until George yawned in the middle of a story about falling through his neighbor's roof. They were both surprised to find out it was a little past the midnight hour.

One Eye waved a barmaid over, and she hurried to clean off their table. It was then George realized that he didn't have any coin. "Don't worry about it lad." The thief told him as he dropped two copper pieces into the barmaid's apron, trying to snag her around the waist. Giving him a wink, and muttering about "scoundrels", she sauntered off to another table. The black haired man leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands over his stomach. "I want ye t' come back soon," he said thoughtfully. "I'll bring ye home. Can ye remember how t' get back t' th' Dove?"

Running his finger over a deep knife groove in the table, George nodded. "When I first started explorin' th' Lower City, I used t' get lost. So I've learned t' remember landmarks and things."

There was a confusing emotion on One Eye's face as he stood up and clasped a hand on George's shoulder. "The Trickster God was smilin' on me when he introduced us. But, nay, it's time to get ye home to yer ma, we'll walk slow so you can try and memorize th' way."

Reluctantly, George pushed back his chair and let One Eye guide him through the throngs of people to the door. His ma was not going to be happy, and even if the Trickster God was smiling down on them, he was not eager to get home.

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A/N: And that's the end of part 4. Please review. :-D

I promise that I'll update more quickly next time- I already started writing it.

Go. Review Review!