AN: I know it's been a very long while- don't worry, I'm still here, and I'm not giving up! I've just got a lot to do... and my other story is taking priority... for now. But George wanted a word with me today, and, since it's a snow day, it made sense to oblige him. ;D Thanks to all reviewers- I will try to update more often, especially since I really have gotten such a great response!- Dragonfly257, Shang Leopard, Mirukarumi, Merkaba7734, Escape my reality, Mickeygee, pirateskull, WishingOnMyStar, peppymint, and my beta, KyrieofAccender.
Chapter Two
"And I get my own sharings, after I give half t' Lew," Marek bragged as we wandered through the market; Ma had given permission to visit, which was an odd thing, because I wasn't used to asking to see Marek, but now that we lived with ma's friend, in the Lark, I couldn't go traipsing around the whole Lower City. The Lark was more upstanding than the Crow, but I still preferred the markets of the Crow to those of nice homes that could almost be in Patten District.
"What happened to Duke?" I asked as we split to let a cart full of fruit past; Marek was polishing an apple on his sleeve with a sly grin when we walked on.
"Got caught," he said smugly. "Puddin' head. Lew's much more clever-" I shook my head in consternation. "What?"
"Don't what happened to Duke tell you what happens to all them thieves?" I asked, cringing as the words left my mouth; I was beginning to sound like my ma. Then I straightened, just in time for Marek's snickering; I meant it. "Your ma's gonna be ashamed-"
"At least I bring home a purse, eh? Better than your pickings, message-boy." He punched me on the arm, and I scowled. "Be all high and mighty, but I'll always be better off. Better stories to tell the lassies, too." I pulled a face.
"Who's listening to your stories? Your sister?" I ducked his swipe and grinned. "Ooo… Marek!" I cooed mockingly. "Tell me more about your dangerous life as a magpie!" Marek's eyes grew large as crowns; he hadn't thought I knew the words for the pickpocket hierarchy, all the language that I had picked up mostly from his long-winded bragging.
"I ent no magpie!" he squawked, and I smirked, ready to taunt him more, but my ears picked up my ma's call- with the small, metal crow around my neck that she had charmed, she could always find me right quick. I turned my head, searching until I found her, pushing through the crowd with a frown on her face. I sighed to myself. Since we had moved, she couldn't find much work except back in the Crow, and she didn't like me keeping the same hours out of the house with Marek, since we lived further away now. She was always tired; the dark circles under her eyes battered back away annoyance I had felt about having my time with Marek curtailed.
"George Cooper!" We both started towards her. She had her hands on her hips and a glower on her face, which was unusual for her- somebody must'a been giving her a hard time. "How are you supposed do the stitchin' if you're dashing all around Lower City?" Out of her whole lecture, only one word stuck in my head. I bet it was the same one sticking in Marek's head, too. Stitching?!
"Ma!" I yelped as Marek choked on his apple. "Sewing's gel's work!" She put a firm hand on my shoulder as my friend began to snigger.
"You'll thank me one day," she predicted grimly, tugging me away from Marek. I sputtered, tossing a horrified look back at him.
"Oh, aye!" he howled, clutching his stomach. "It's hard work, but somebody's gotta do it!" He tried for a saintly expression, but collapsed into laughter as Ma steered me away and I lost sight of him.
"I'm gonna box his ears," I said darkly, and Ma pinched my ear. "Ow!"
"There'll be none of that talk around me, my son," she said serenely, escorting me into the crowd, through the darkening streets.
I could still hear Marek's laughter ringing in my ears.
Lariah was a nice woman; I could tell from the minute I laid eyes on her- it's part of my Sight. I just know. But she wasn't about to turn her tidy little home into the bustling healing house Ma had had, which meant we had to go out and find work. Lariah was comfortable with feeding us along with her man and children… so long as there was enough to go around, of course; that was Lower City charity. Ma didn't like charity, anyway….
So I learned stitching- not just to mend, either; Ma insisted it was to practice sewing up patients, but it was mostly to keep me busy, I bet… keep me away from Marek, who was getting nice clothes for hisself and food for his ma and siblings with his earnings, if you could call stolen coins earnings.
I don't know how Ma knew what he was doing, but that shouldn't have surprised me- she was a smart woman, with both feet on the ground and head on straight… like she raised me to be.
But Lariah's kids were too young to be good friends, and I missed him, although he teased me mercilessly nowadays… I vowed to do sommat soon to clamp his muzzle, even though I didn't know what until it had already happened.
Marek said he couldn't race, because he was waiting for Lew to meet him. I snorted, then poked him.
"More like you're 'fraid to muss your pretty clothes," I said. "Do people stop and ask you why a nice merchant's son is down here in the pit?"
"How's the stitching going?" he fired back. I put my hands on my hips; no self-respecting lad of seven winters was going to take that. "You lil' woman, ducking 'neath your ma's skirts-"
"Least I give her respect that she deserves," I retorted. "I ain't turning thief for nice breeches, eh?" I was itching to hit him; he had been needling me for weeks, since Ma came and had to announce the stitching lessons…. I drew myself up, glaring back into his eyes. "Fact is," I said, all riled up by his taunts. "That I could snitch anything outta pockets if I wanted to-" Marek's eyes gleamed.
"Then do it!" he challenged, a triumphant smirk on his face. It crossed my mind about then that he had been waiting months for me to talk myself into a corner like this.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Didn't my ma always tell me about keeping my mouth shut?
Marek waited, grin still in place. I could almost hear what he was thinking: little mama's son, ain't going to do it- He'd never let me alone if I refused now.
And he was sure I wouldn't do it.
I squared my shoulders.
I was going to prove him wrong. I glanced across the marketplace; there were many merchants, strolling about, examing goods, trying to find those ones that had been undervalued by the Lower City's inhabitants…. I pointed to one of the closest, whose purse I could see even now, in the bright sunlight as he bent over the baker's goods.
"That one," I said, jaw set, and Marek blinked. Before he could say anything, I dashed forwards, acting like any boy in the street. I approached the baker's stall and stared at the biscuits. The seller recognized me and greeted me without names; she probably only knew me as the healer's boy.
"Say hello to your ma," she sang out as she turned her back to fetch something. I swallowed, casting a glance back over to where Marek had been- there was someone with him, a young man who looked old for any friend….
Was that Lew? I wet my lips. Had Marek not been just spinning tales about meeting the foist?
I thrust it from my mind as the merchant I had picked out leaned over the counter.
"No," he said in a hoarse, gruff voice. His purse dangled out from his coat, before my eyes tauntingly. "Not the sweetbread- that other one-" Pushing all thoughts of Ma out of my mind, I remembered Marek and all the dung he had given me.
Then, before I could lose my nerve, my hand shot out, slipping under the flap of the pouch, jolting the strap slightly. I froze as the man stiffened, willing myself to remain perfectly still as he looked one way, then the other, his gaze passing over me as I scarcely dared to breathe. My pulse thundered in my ears; my hand was still in his purse….
I could do this.
As he turned back to the baked goods, I wriggled my fingers in deeper, the very tips of them brushing cool metal. My pointer and my ring pinched together, lifting up a single coin. I began to pull away, breath held-
"Street brat!" The man turned on me, hauling me up by the shirt as my arm was wrenched away from him. His face was contorted in fury, turning red as he snarled. I shrank back, trembling; there was no where to go. "Rotten to the core, scummy piece of dog's shit-"
So I was caught; I had been stupid. A fool. I would be branded, thrown in the cages, and maybe, if I was lucky, survive to be whipped by my ma. I composed my face, trying not to show my fear as he screamed at me. I refused to look in Marek's direction, remembering what he had said about Duke.
Puddin' head. It seemed kind, now, compared to what the merchant spat at me as he shook me, making my head spin.
"Little bastards dipping their paws-" He dropped me, and I cringed as I hit the ground, tears coming to my eyes unbidden. Then he yelped. I didn't know what was about to happen, but what I had not expected was hands hauling me up to my feet, Marek's cry, and a sudden flood of adrenaline pulsing through my veins. Someone had pushed the merchant into the bakery stall, and someone was pulling me away just as people turned to gather around the fuss.
"Run!" my mate shouted as he yanked me forwards. The older youth was behind me, thrusting us forward into the crowd as he retreated in the opposite direction, a wild grin on his face as folk began to talk.
Somehow, no one stopped us; somehow no guards or well-meaning citizens came after us, to haul us back to that raging merchant…. And still we ran, feet slamming into the ground as we raced, further and faster than we had ever challenged each other. I was remembering my ma's lectures on thieving now, all too clear-
It doesn't matter how fast or clever or well-meaning you are. You'll always get caught, George. Thieves can't run forever.
But I didn't have to run forever; I just had to run until no one would bother chasing after me…. Something small and round was sliding up and down my shirt sleeve. When I realized what it was, I couldn't stop the grin that crept across my face.
When we finally stopped, I didn't know where we were, what street this was, but I didn't care much, either. Both me and Marek gasped for breath, him glowering.
"You… puddin' head," he muttered, but I laughed. His eyes narrowed as I shook out my sleeve, hand outstretched; a small silver coin fell into my palm. I waved it under his nose.
"It must'a got stuck when he grabbed me," I told him, lifting it up to examine it in the light. Marek sputtered, covering my hands with his.
"Don't go waving it 'round, now," he hissed. "Put it in your shoe, or sommat." Shrugging, I obeyed.
"I'm sure a fat merchant son such as yourself could explain having one," I snickered, pulling off my shoe to drop the coin in it.
"This ent merchant wear, mucker," he told me. "And stop that grinning- you got caught, didn't you? If it weren't for me and Lew-"
"So that was Lew." He scowled, and my smile stayed; for once, I had the upper hand. "And I'll bet you didn't do well your first time either-"
"He chickened out." I nearly jumped out of my shoes when the voice spoke from behind me. I spun around to see the youth who had saved me. Lew. He looked old- he towered over us, and his gaunt face betrayed none of the excitement it had when I had caught sight of him fading into the crowd. His blue-gray eyes scrutinized me gravely, and I met his gaze fighting the urge to fidget and drop my eyes. "Like most magpies do." I didn't ask how Lew knew what Marek had done, when Marek had first been recruited by Duke. Instead I watched him; my Sight was having a hard time placing him. I hoped, the longer I watched, the better I saw him. A crack of a smile broke through his impassive mask. "But you've got a spine of Black Raven steel- kept your nibblers in as he's looking 'round… kept at it after… and didn't squeak a bit when he catch you." A trickle of unease and one of pride fought for purchase inside me. "And you got some coin out of it for your troubles- guts and grit pay off, in the end."
"Thank you, sir," I said cautiously, still eyeing him. He stuck out his hand.
"You've got quick eyes and hands, even if you bungled that," he said. I watched him for a moment more, knowing where he was going. "You could do better than that, you know." His outstretched hand waited. I hesitated, and he put a hand on my shoulder. When he bent down, his face was in mine, his gaze refusing to let me go. "You make fast friends in this work," he whispered in my ear. "Or you make quick enemies."
How had I gotten myself into this? I wanted to wait until my Sight gave me some tidbits- anything, really- but it hadn't straightened itself out yet. Lew was elusive, here and then gone… and it made me right dizzy to try to puzzle it out.
I would have to make this choice on my own.
"What's it gonna be, then?" he asked, and his piercing stare fell to his offered hand. He lowered his voice further still, out of Marek's earshot. "You're better than your friend, Cooper. I think you could have a bright future in the Rogue's ranks." Chills ran up my spine as I remembered the stories of Beka Cooper... and Rosto the Piper. "You wanna prove that, or do you wanna do the stitchings for life?" So my mate had told his foist about that; you couldn't trust a bloke anymore.
I reached out, gripped his large fingers, and shook firmly, sealing my fate in that of the Trickster's chosen.
AN: My next chapter, mostly likely, will be much sooner- especially if I keep getting lots of reviews!