Summary: The story of how George Cooper became the King of the Thieves, starting when he's eleven.

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They exited the Dancing Dove through a side door that George hadn't noticed the night before.

"In a place like th' Dove, it pays t' have more than a few exits," One Eye clarified in response to George's look and the boy nodded.

Outside, the sun was high over the roofs of the Lower City, nearly blinding after the dark inn. It took George a while to blink away the black spots that littered his vision.

"Are you really going to teach me to thieve?" George couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "Like the lock pickin' you were doing last night?" Learning to pick locks appealed to him; it was a challenge and a fun sounding one at that.

One Eye grinned at his eagerness. "No lock picks just yet- too advanced. I was thinkin' we'd start ye out with pickin' pockets." When he saw that George approved of the idea, he continued. "Pickin' pockets is tricky. Ye must think of yer hand as weightless. It can't touchn anythin' but what yer stealin'- the tiniest tug can warn yer mark of what yer doin'."

He held up a round black button, and George gave a start of recognition. On the way to the Dancing Dove, a button had popped off his breeches when he hopped over a fence. He'd put the button in his pocket for his ma to sew on later. He felt around his breeches, and his fingers closed on empty air. "How'd you…? When did…? I didn't even…"

One Eye handed back the button. "Light fingers," he reminded him. "It takes a lot of control, but I've got faith in ye."

Making a wide sweeping gesture with his hand, he indicated the busy street in front of them. "Pick a mark, and try t' pick their pockets. I don't expect ye to get anythin', just work on control. In, out." He leaned against a stall selling spices. "I'll watch here."

George eyed the sea of people with consideration; if One Eye thought he could do it, then he would.

Wading into the crowd, he noticed a woman with dark brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She seemed very involved in a list she was reading- George couldn't see her face because she was hunched over inspecting it.

He cracked his knuckles once, then reached out. His fingertips grazed the scratchy wool of her dress, and slipped into the purse hanging from her belt. The woman took a quick step to the left that George wasn't expecting and he lurched forward, leaning all of his weight on the belt purse.

As he straightened up and hurried to remove his hand, the woman's head whirled around like an owl's, and George stared up at a familiar pair of level brown eyes with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"George Cooper! Was that you? I thought someone was trying to make off with my coins…" Her voice was annoyed and tinted with suspicion.

Mistress Kuri. The sharp healing woman often helped out his ma.

"Oh, no thief," he told her with an attempt at a grin. "I was tuggin' at your dress to get your attention."

Sufficiently soothed, and just a bit charmed, Mistress Kuri smiled back at him. "Why did you want my attention?"

His tongue went dry, and his brain scrambled for a lie. Nothing was coming, and his palms felt damp.

"Is there something wrong with Eleni?" she prompted.

"No, she's taking caring of Cherno, Mistress Kaulao's son." George saw his chance and took it, making his voice forlorn and his eyes sorrowful. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been. "She'll be gone for a while."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "George, if you'd ever care for a cup of tea and a hot meal, my door is always open."

He nodded his thanks, and she rested a warm hand on his shoulder before turning to continue on her way.

One Eye was at his side in seconds. "Lad, I know I didn't give ye much instruction, but its best not t' try and steal from someone ye know yer first time." His gray eyes danced with amusement.

George flushed. "She's a friend of my ma's," he explained.

The thief laughed, loud and deep. "That's even worse!"

George had to smile in response. He was still embarrassed that his first attempt at stealing had gone so horribly wrong, but the important thing to him was that One Eye wasn't angry.

One Eye clasped an arm around George's shoulders, leading him back down the busy street. "I'm gonna have t' teach ye tact. Come on, I'll go with ye this time."

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They worked for the rest of the afternoon, until the crowds thinned and what they were doing became too noticeable. "Pickin' pockets is easiest in th' busy areas," One Eye told him, pressing the importance of a thief's surroundings.

George had managed to swipe the contents of one belt purse, which sadly only contained one copper coin, but it had taken him ages. One notable incident occurred after an hour into the lesson: he had accidentally pinched a lady's bottom while trying to get at her purse, and One Eye had been slapped clear across the face.

"Enough for today, but I expect ye t' keep practicin'," One Eye announced on their way back to the Dancing Dove. "By th' looks of it, yer never goin' to let loose of that coin," he teased.

George had been admiring the copper coin in the dying sunlight. It was the most money he had ever held, money that was all his, and not his ma's hard work. He had earned this.

He rolled the coin across his palm while he thought. "How much is an ale at the Dove?"

One Eye raised an eyebrow. "Thinkin' of startin' t' drink?"

George shook his head- he had gotten a whiff of ale the night before, and he planned to stick with lemonade for a while. "No. I want to buy you a drink when we get there."

The thief paused, an odd look in his eyes. "But it took ye hours to get that money."

George shrugged, uncomfortable.

"Well, ta lad. How about ye buy me an ale, and I'll buy yer lemonade. Then I'll teach you how t' play dice."

One Eye pushed open the door to the Dove, and ushered George inside. The inn was already beginning to feel like home.

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A/N: Yeah, I realize this chapter is a looong time coming, and I'm sorry. I'm getting back into Tammy fic, and I love George as much as ever. Please review and tell me what you think, I promise I'm not going to let this story die.