"Come on Klee, hurry up. Ma said she wanted us back by lunchtime." Clary was hurrying along the street, her hand clutching at the purse hidden under her shawl. After a stern warning about being careful with the money, her mother had given her the purse and sent her with Berkeley to take his boots to be reshod.
He hurried to catch up to her, swinging his boots from their laces. "Clary, you're starting to sound like Ma now. But it's still so much more fun coming with you." He gave her a wide smile, his brown eyes sparkling. He had the same eyes and dark brown hair as Clary and their father, and had also inherited his father's playful personality.
"I'm beginning to see how Mother got like that," she grumbled. She noticed that he'd fallen behind again. "Keep up with me," she snapped at him.
"But Clary, it's the Hewlett brothers."
She looked into the distance, and saw two figures loitering on the street. "So? Come on."
"Clary…maybe we should go another way. They're not very nice."
"This is the fastest way. Hurry up."
The two figures moved into the centre of the footpath as they approached, blocking their way. Up close, Clary could see that they were both a little bit older than her, perhaps about twelve and thirteen. They were obviously brothers, they had the same dirty blonde hair and wide jaw.
"What are you doing? Get out of our way," she snapped, glaring up at them.
The smaller of the two laughed. "We're not going anywhere. You have to tell us the password."
"I don't care about your sarden password. We're busy."
The older one smirked. "Is this your sister, Berkeley? Is she a craven crybaby too?"
"Like I said, we're busy," she told them. "I'll set you straight another time. Come on, Klee." She moved to go around the brothers, but they moved to block her.
"Klee?" asked the older one as his brother laughed. "Are you too much of a baby to be able to say his name properly? I'd have thought a ten year old could manage to say 'Berkeley'."
She glared at him again. "I'm eleven, and we call him that for short," she snapped. "You're both obviously such a pair of bugnobs that you can't manage to remember more than one name for a person."
She went to walk around them again, and the older brother grabbed onto her arm. "You can't leave yet," he said. "Our dear friend Klee has something to give us, don't you?"
Klee took a step backwards, but it wasn't enough to stop the younger brother from snatching his boots from his hands. "Give them back," he protested, but the brothers were already examining them.
"Too worn," announced the older brother, and the younger one dropped them on the ground. Berkeley scrambled to pick them up and back away out of reach in case they changed their minds. "The only reason you'd be walking along with a pair of boots like that was if you were going to get them fixed," continued the older boy. "Which means that one of you has money. Hand it over."
Berkeley's eyes widened and he looked at Clary in alarm. The older brother noticed this and tightened his grip on Clary's arm. "Hand it over," he ordered again. She just glared at him, and he grabbed at her shawl with his other hand.
She kicked him hard on the shin, and he let go of her in surprise. His brother tried to grab her, but she stomped on his toes with as much force as she could manage. A sharp tug on her horsetail from behind made her eyes water and let her know that the older brother had recovered from her kick. He pulled again, hard enough to make her turn towards him. She could see that the other brother had grabbed Berkeley by the collar and was almost lifting him off the ground. He wouldn't be able to cause her any trouble while he still had Berkeley, but she wanted to get to him before he could hurt her brother. The older brother wrapped his arm around her collarbone, holding her in place. "Where's the money?" he demanded. She kicked at him again, but he was prepared for this and held onto her tightly despite the pain. Deciding for a different tactic, she grabbed onto the arm that held her and dug her nails in. His grip on her loosened a little, and she sank her teeth into his arm, tasting his blood in her mouth. He gave a yelp and let her go, and she spat at him to rid the metallic taste from her mouth.
"What's going on out here?" A woman stood in the doorway of the nearest house, a broom in her hand. "You boys can shut your sarden gobs if you're not going to be of use. You'd better have finished your chores."
This was obviously the boys' mother. Clary saw an opportunity to win the fight and get away from the boys. She knew she'd wasted enough time already, and she wasn't entirely sure whether or not she could beat them both in a fight. It was time for some acting. She clasped her hands in front of her, deliberately digging her nails into her own wrist hard enough to make her eyes water, and then walked towards the woman. "Excuse me, Mistress," she said, making sure that her eyes were wide and tearful. "Could you please help us? We're just trying to do errands for our mama and these boys are being nasty to us." She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, deliberately letting the woman see the bloody nail marks from her own hand.
"Boys, what's the meaning of this?" the woman demanded.
"They started it," muttered the younger brother.
Clary touched her lip, checking to see if there was still any of the boy's blood, and gave a little gasp. "I think my lip's bleeding," she said, and let her chin tremble.
The woman gave the older brother a solid clout on the back of his head with the broom handle. "Shame on you both, attacking a little girl."
"They attacked my brother too," added Clary helpfully. The younger brother took a step away from Berkeley, but still earned a blow from his mother's broom.
"Why were you bothering them?" she demanded. The brothers were silent, glaring at Clary.
"They said we had to give them our mama's money," Clary said, and gave another pitiful sniff.
"Stealing?" the woman asked incredulously. "Turn your pockets out." The boys gave the Wrights a look of absolute loathing, and obeyed their mother. The older boy had two copper nobles in his, and his mother immediately gave him another blow with the broom.
"It's not theirs," he protested.
"A liar as well as a thief? Give them their money back," she ordered. "The shame of it, my own sons stealing!" She punctuated this with another swing of the broom.
The older boy reluctantly walked over to Clary and gave her the money. "I'll get you for this, you sarden little trollop," he hissed.
She smirked at him and snatched the money. "You better not let your mother hear you talk like that. You can go and swive yourself for all I care."
"Inside," the mother ordered. "No lunch and no dinner, and you can stay in your bedroom until morning. You're in for a hiding when your father gets home." The boys headed into the house, turning to glare at Clary over their shoulders. "You two run along home now," the woman told Clary and Berkeley. "You let me know if you see my boys causing trouble again."
"Yes Mistress," said Clary, making her eyes wide. "Thank you very much for saving us." She grabbed onto Berkeley's hand, and they trotted off down the road until they were out of sight of the house.
She gave him a crooked grin and handed him one of the two copper nobles. "This was much better than going somewhere with Ma."
"Don't you feel bad about taking their money?" asked her brother.
"You must be cracknobbed if you think it was theirs in the first place. Like as not, they stole it from someone else smaller than them. Anyway, it's their own fault and they deserve it."
"Don't you think they'll be angry?"
She shrugged. "That's their problem, isn't it? We'll just take a different way to go for a while."
They walked on in silence for a little way, and then Berkeley asked "Clary?"
"What?"
"I'm never going to get on your bad side."
She threw back her head and laughed, which puzzled Berkeley. He certainly couldn't see anything funny about it. Maybe she didn't realise just how scary she could be.