Thief's Blade Page 8

  I was unhappy to note more than a few bold rats skittering around the deepest shadows at the edges of the room. I had a particular hatred for the creatures, because of the memories they evoked. Other sights of extreme poverty might be new to me, but I was familiar with vermin from my years in the tower.

  Nothing about the rough, hopeless surroundings made me want to spend any time here, but we had no choice. In the back of the room, we found an unoccupied spot along the wall, where we could set up a camp of sorts. Ada dug through a nearby pile of rubbish that didn’t seem to belong to anyone and found a long clay pipe and a wooden beam. I dragged them over to our spot, and we leaned them against the wall. We brought Ada’s tattered blankets out of her canvas sack and draped some of them over the beam like a tent, scattering others on the floor.

  Our little tent was too small to stand or move in but would give just enough space to crawl inside when we were ready to sleep. There was also room to stow our belongings.

  “Never leave our traveling packs unguarded, or they’ll be snatched,” Ada warned.

  “Will we really be here long enough to worry about that?” I asked.

  I had reconciled myself to spending the night in the levels but couldn’t imagine living in this filthy place for any real length of time.

  “We’ve got to stay in town long enough to gather provisions,” Ada said. “We’re only a day or two from Dimmingwood and the nearest forest village. But we need food for the journey, and it will take time to collect enough.”

  I could guess how she meant to go about “collecting” what we needed, but I didn’t argue with her. The truth was we had no idea what lay ahead and had to conserve what little money we had left. Ada’s methods would help us do that.

  Tired from the day’s activities, we all crawled into the little shelter to rest. It wasn’t long before the even breathing of the others around me told me they were asleep. But I didn’t sleep right away. Instead, I considered my bow, crammed into a corner of the tent, as far from me as possible. I remembered the way it glowed hot when I had sighted the scarred man. I thought of the things the young priest, Hadrian, had said of enchanted items and of the peddler woman’s warning that there was some curse or magic attached to the weapon. Should I get rid of it before it flared up again and set us all afire while we slept? But something kept me from casting the bow away. In that brief moment of danger this afternoon, it had almost seemed to be trying to warn me. The idea of the weapon having a will and awareness of its own was as intriguing as it was disturbing.

  I rolled over, turning away from the unsettling bow, and stared up at our flimsy blanket ceiling. As drowsiness stole over me, I fingered my father’s ring, still on its cord around my neck, and remembered the lock of my mother’s hair nestled inside its hidden compartment.

  I had come a long way, but I hadn’t forgotten what I had left behind.

  * * *

  I was awakened in the night by a noisy commotion. I felt as if I had hardly slept at all. Rubbing my eyes and squinting into the darkness, I tried to make out what was going on. Ferran was safely asleep at my side, but Ada’s blanket was empty. I recognized her raised voice coming from outside.

  Immediately my mind went to the night we had been captured by soldiers from the tower. But we had left them behind when we crossed the border, hadn’t we? Maybe our hiding place had been discovered by the two men hunting us? My heart beat faster at the thought. But Ada’s voice raging nearby sounded more angry than threatened.

  I crawled to the mouth of the tent and peered out into the perpetual gloom of the under-levels. The glimmer-stones in the walls cast an eerie, green light over the scene before me. Ada stood a little distance from the tent, her feet planted wide and her hands on her skinny hips. It was a fighting stance.

  Ranged around her was a group of ragged-looking younglings not much older than us. I quickly counted them. They numbered five. This was a lean and hungry-looking bunch, all but one, the boy Ada appeared to be confronting. He was broad-shouldered and taller than most grown men.

  “You can’t take them,” Ada was arguing with him. “We need everything we have.”

  Seeing how she fingered her belt knife, I decided the problem was serious.

  “Ada, what’s going on?” I asked, climbing out of the tent to join her.

  She scowled, never taking her eyes of the surrounding strangers. “I caught these thugs reaching into our tent and stealing our belongings,” she spat.

  I saw now that both my traveling pack and hers were held by two of the boys.

  None of the strangers denied the accusation. It would have been difficult with our possessions clearly in their hands.

  The biggest of the group spoke up. “The under-levels are our territory,” he said. “Consider this the price you pay for stopping under our roof.”

  “We can’t afford to lose those things,” I argued. “We have nothing else.”

  The big fellow sized me up, his expression contemptuous. He was as greasy and begrimed as his companions. His forehead beneath a thatch of dark hair was scarred, his nose crooked, as if it had been broken in the past.

  “Maybe you’d like to fight me for it,” he said, a cruel glint in his eyes.

  I knew what he was thinking, that I was short and small built, that I would be no challenge to him at all. It was a fair assessment. But what he didn’t know was that I was desperate. We had come too far to be defeated by some nameless toughs, not when we were so close to finally reaching Dimmingwood. It was true what Ada had said; we needed everything we had to get us through the last leg of our journey.

  “I’ll fight you all right,” I heard myself saying.

  The bigger boy looked surprised. I was a little startled by the bold decision myself. But I could see no choice. Somehow we had to settle this question and prove we weren’t easy prey. Otherwise, these younglings and others like them would drive us out of the under-levels and chase us back up onto the streets. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Ada tugged on my arm and gave me a warning look. I knew she feared I was going to lose our things and get myself badly beaten in the process.

  But it was too late to take back my agreement.

  “It’s a deal then,” the big fellow said, looking confident.

  He immediately fell into a crouch, doubling up his fists.

  “Not so fast,” I said. “I agreed to a fight but not with fists. I’m talking about a duel of blades.”

  “Knives?” he asked, obviously startled at the suggestion.

  “Not knives. Swords,” I corrected.

  It was an important point. I couldn’t beat the bigger boy in a fistfight. But what he couldn’t guess was that, along with the other things I had been tutored in as a young child, I had been instructed in self-defense by a sword master. If I could get my hands on my weapon of choice, I might have a fair chance.

  The big fellow scoffed. “Where would we come by a pair of swords around here?” he asked. “Do you have them?”

  I had to admit I didn’t. I could sense relief from Ada beside me.

  Then one of the rough younglings in the background spoke up. “I know where I could borrow a sword.”

  “So do I,” another boy put in.

  My plan was coming together. I only needed to make my opponent agree.

  “Surely you aren’t afraid, are you?” I asked him.

  “Not on your life,” he spat, looking amused. “I’m just trying to decide how much of your innards I should carve out. I’m thinking all of them.”

  He motioned to his friends, and the two who had spoken up ran off to fetch the weapons. While we waited for their return, I had plenty of time to question my rash decision. I remembered that my skills were rusty, that it had been two years since I had held a blade.

  When our enemies weren’t looking, Ada poked me and whispered, “This is a terrible idea. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  There was no time for me to admit she was probably right. The two boys who ha
d gone off in search of weapons were already returning. My soon-to-be opponent examined the swords they brought to him and tossed me the one that was in the worst condition. I had never held a weapon of such poor quality before. The blade was rusted, dented, and slightly bent, throwing off the balance. I feared it might break the first time our swords clashed.

  Still, it was too late to get out of this now. Everyone was backing away to give us room.

  I reminded my foe, “Don’t forget, if I win, you and the others will leave me and my friends undisturbed. No more trouble.”

  “And if I win,” he said, “I get everything you own.” His greedy gaze flickered past me, toward the opening of our tent, as if he were adding up all the contents he could see. “I’ll take that bow,” he said. He looked Ada up and down. “And maybe your girl too.”

  From the outraged noise Ada made, I knew if I didn’t engage our enemy soon, she would.

  “It’s agreed,” I said quickly. “Let’s get on with this.”

  We circled, sizing each other up. Probably when he looked at me, all he saw was my size. But I was watching his movements and the awkward way he gripped his sword, as if it were a scythe and he was planning to mow me down with it. I suspected he had never held a sword before. Seeing this, I regained a little of my confidence.

  He made a sudden rush at me and swung his blade like he was trying to lop off my head. It was a predictable and clumsy move. In that instant, all the long hours of training with my father’s hired sword master came back to me. I instinctively blocked the swing and returned the attack. My muscles remembered what to do. I launched my assault quickly, before the other boy’s superior size and strength could wear me down.

  My opponent blocked and tried to return my thrusts, but he gave up more ground than he gained. As I had suspected, he was all brute strength and knew nothing of speed or footwork. He hacked and stabbed inelegantly and with growing force, as he discovered I wasn’t so easily beaten. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes began to look frantic.

  My arm was growing tired, and stinging drops of sweat trickled into my eyes. But I was hardly aware of these things. I was too caught up in the energy of the moment. It was a long time since I had been confronted with a danger I could actually do something about. In a way, I had been waiting for this fight for two years.

  In a final rush, I backed my opponent against the wall and smashed my sword against his so suddenly and sharply his blade flew from his hand. It sailed a short distance to clatter to the ground.

  In that second, I didn’t see the now-unarmed youngling in front of me. I saw the guards who had imprisoned my family in the tower. I saw the headsman who had killed my father and the soldiers who hunted Ferran and me. More than any of this, I saw my father’s enemy, who had ordered it all. I drew back my blade, about to thrust it through my foe in a blind rage.

  But at the last instant, my vision cleared and I realized what was truly before me—a frightened-looking youth little older than me, who had done no serious harm.

  I took a breath, cooling my anger, and lowered my weapon.

  “I have won,” I pointed out to my opponent and the onlookers. “Honor your word and leave us alone.”

  The flash of fear that had been in my enemy’s eyes in the moment when he was waiting to be killed now disappeared. It was replaced by something else—grudging respect.

  “You won’t be bothered again,” he said simply. “I’ll see to it.”

  I half expected some sort of trick, maybe a surprise attack as soon as I lowered my guard and dropped my weapon to the ground. But none came. The older boy and his companions quickly gathered the rusty swords and left.

  Alone, Ada and I collected our traveling packs and returned them to the tent, where Ferran still slept, oblivious to what had happened.

  “That was a mad thing you did,” Ada told me as we slithered back into our blankets.

  “It was,” I agreed.

  “I doubt that stupid thug will keep his word,” she continued. “He’ll probably come after us again when we least expect it.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I thought she was mistaken. I had seen something in the tough boy from the under-levels. He might be many bad things, but I believed he had his own code of honor and would stick to it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I couldn’t be sure what time it was when next I woke. In the perpetual gloom of the under-levels, day and night looked much the same. It was Ada who had woken me, and she quietly beckoned me to follow as she crawled out of the tent. Ferran was still sleeping, so I took care not to wake him as I left.

  Outside, Ada told me the reason for our early rising. “It’s nearly dawn up there,” she said, pointing overhead. “Soon the market will be opening. The fruit and pie sellers and all the rest will be busy setting up their carts and stalls to begin the day. It’s a good time to pick up what we need while they’re distracted.”

  I didn’t like the idea. Despite our desperate circumstances, it was hard to forget I was the heir of a congrave. My father hadn’t raised me to be a common sneak thief. But I smothered my pride. I couldn’t let Ada go on taking all the chances for us. Sooner or later I had to do my share. Besides, wasn’t it my responsibility to provide for Ferran in any way I could?

  Remembering my brother, I was reluctant to leave him alone in this rough place. But the man with the scarred chin was still out there somewhere, probably combing the streets of Selbius for us. No matter how unpleasant the under-levels, Ferran was safer down here.

  An idea occurred to me, and I looked around to see where last night’s gang of young thugs had gone off to. Their leader had kept his promise not to trouble us again while we slept. Maybe I could trust him for something else.

  After a short exploration of the surrounding hovels and tents, I found him.

  He was digging through a pile of what seemed like garbage but was probably the prized treasure of one of our neighbors. He looked up, evidently surprised to see me. I couldn’t blame him. We hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms. Yet something about him made me think he wasn’t one for holding a grudge.

  “I came to ask a favor,” I said. I removed one of the few coins from my pouch to show it was really more of a job than a favor. “I have to go out for a while and leave my little brother behind. But we have enemies who might want to make trouble for him if they find him down here unprotected. Would you keep an eye on him from a distance and see he’s not bothered?”

  I had his full attention from the moment I produced the money. He readily agreed to the plan, although I sensed he found it strange I would trust him. Maybe I shouldn’t, I thought, as I returned to Ada and our tent. But I could only follow my instincts.

  I looked in on Ferran a final time and found him still sleeping. Before ducking back out, I hesitated over the bow lying in the floor. I decided to leave the weapon behind. The memory of my strange experience with it the other day still made me uneasy, and until I sorted out my feelings, I wasn’t ready to carry the thing again.

  Ada and I left the crowded cavern and ascended the stairs leading out of the black pit. Up on the street, Ada led the way to the market, following the same crooked lanes as the previous evening. Uneasy about returning to the scene where I had last seen the man with the scarred chin, I kept a wary eye out. Luckily, I didn’t see him among the strangers trickling into the market square.

  In the gray dawn light, Ada surveyed the early arrivals, sellers busily filling their carts or setting up their stalls. She reminded me of a hunting cat circling its prey. Soon she found whatever it was she had been looking for. She drew my attention to a man who was carrying bags of apples out of a shop and loading them into a pushcart.

  “I’ll distract that one,” Ada instructed. “You come along behind him and pocket a couple of those apples.”

  “What if someone sees me?” I protested.

  She waved away my concern. “Nobody but the seller will care, and I’ll keep him busy. You just give me those coin
s you’ve been saving.”

  I was surprised. “Why? Are you buying something?”

  “You’ll see,” she said.

  I gave her the pouch that contained the last of my money, wondering all the while if I was a fool for trusting a thief, even one who was a friend, with all I possessed. But she had stuck with us thus far. If I couldn’t rely on her, I could rely on no one.

  As soon as she had the money, she hurried straight off across the square. I took a more circuitous route to come up behind the fruit seller. Although my task was a small one, I was sweating, wondering whether I could carry it out without getting caught.

  Ada hadn’t mentioned how she planned to distract the seller, so I was surprised to see her walk right up to him and begin speaking. Drawing near enough to hear, I realized she was haggling over the price of his fruit, jingling my bag of coins to keep his attention.

  Trying to look casual and not at all terrified, I wandered past the back of the cart, snatching and pocketing three apples as I went. It was over so fast I could hardly believe it. The seller, busy with Ada, never looked my way. As easily as that, I had gotten away with it.

  Or so I thought.

  But I hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps when a shout rose up behind me. “Stop that thief!”

  Looking over my shoulder, I saw an old woman with a chicken under each arm, pointing at me. Ada had been wrong when she said no one but the fruit seller would care. As the old woman drew the fruit man’s attention to me, I saw Ada beating a hasty retreat down an alley. I realized I had better do the same.