She dove beneath some bushes, holding her breath as she stared down the road. A horse and rider came into view and rode past without pausing – a messenger by his saddlebags. Keri pulled herself out of the brush and kept on, scolding herself for paranoia.

They were out to get her though, she thought, patting the purse at her waist. It never paid to be too lucky in one place and she knew better than to overstay her welcome. She heard another horse, slower this time, and slipped off into the woods.

Hiding behind a tree, she watched him approach. He was walking his horse and studying the ground. Keri gripped her sword tighter. He reached the first place she had left the path, but barely paused. Coming even with her, he looked straight at the tree she was using for cover.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you, Keri? Come on, now, don’t be childish.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” She stayed put.

“You cheated at cards and used rigged dice.”

“No, I used the same dice as everyone else and I never even dealt the cards.”

“No one is that lucky.” He stepped off the path, drawing his sword. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Stay away from me.” She pulled her sword and retreated further into the woods. “I’m not a cheater.”

“Come on, Keri. Just come back and give us the money you stole.” He came on.

“I didn’t steal anything.” He was gaining and knew she was not fast enough to outrun him.

“You did, and you’ll give it back, or I’ll take it.” His sword whistled through the air.

They were well off the path now. Keri sheathed her sword and he stepped forward. She bent down, pulling off her pack and set it on the ground. With a quick motion, she pulled her dagger from her boot and threw it dead center into his chest. He stiffened and fell.

Back on the road, she mounted his horse and road off. “Now I’ve stolen something, but he won’t need it anymore.”

He made it to the next corner and skidded to a halt as voices drifted around the bend. Scrambling into a doorway, he curled up on the stoop as though he was simply an urchin catching some shelter for the night. The voices drew closer, accompanied by boot steps.

“Slow night, no one out in the rain.”

“Even the guard stuck to the taverns tonight.”

“What’s that?” They rounded the corder and spotted the boy.

“Just some kid, he don’t even have shoes.”
“What’s he doin’ out?”

“No where to be in, I guess. Leave him be.”

“Fine, just bored.”

Their steps moved on, voices retreating into the night. He peeked through his arms, seeing their backs off in the distance, waiting for them to get out of sight. He listened a few minutes longer, then unfolded and dashed around the building and up the next street.

The guildhall was three streets away, past the market. An easy task on a busy day, but at night the city guard kept a close eye on the open space. He skirted between the stalls, edging his way around. The taverns were quiet by now, and nothing stirred. He tried to look everywhere at once, certain he was being watched. The bag at his chest jangled as he came to a sudden stop, and his heart frozen. Still, nothing moved.

He could see the far side of the square, the alley that would take him home. A pool of light the last obstacle. He looked all around it, checking every shadow, doorway and roof. The absence of rats disturbed him most. Surely they were not all asleep, too. Taking one last breath, he sprinted for the alley.

Just as he entered it, feeling the elation of escape, he bounced backwards, falling to the ground with a sharp gasp. Looking up, he saw boots, gray worn pants, and a barrel chest covered with a charcoal tunic. A dagger in his hand and a gleam in his eye, the man offered him a hand up.

“I was starting to worry, Danny, you should have been back over an hour ago.”

“Old man wouldn’t go to sleep, sir, had to wait him out.” He took his master’s hand and dragged himself off the ground, handing over his precious cargo.

“A couple more of these and you’ll be a journeyman, Dan, just a couple more.”

“Time to go to work.” The little band scattered out into the market. “Be careful.” he whispered, but they were gone.

Thom stood against the wall of the Singing Bear. His charges, three boys and two girls, all about seven years old, wandered through the crowd. He could see their paths, ripples of disturbed adults. They had been training for three months and this was their final exam.

A loud scream drew his attention to the far left of the square. A guard was holding Chris off the ground by one arm. He was wriggling and kicking to no avail. Thom shook his head and looked down as the guard carried the boy away.

A shout and a minor scuffle to the right, but Sara scurried away without being caught. Seamus reappeared beside Thom without warning and handed over a large purse then slipped away again. Ruby wandered in and out of sight, munching on various sweets. Thom noted her shirt was more stuffed each time she passed, as well.

Thom stared intently at the swarm of people milling about. Xander was nowhere to be seen. There was no ripple, no disturbances, no sign of the fifth young pickpocket. He and Seamus were the best of the bunch, but Xander did not like to show off. He would not reappear until he was done.

The sun was setting as Thom turned back to base. Ruby joined him, still munching on a pie. Seamus caught up next, turning over yet another purse. Sara was sitting in the alley waiting. They all went inside. Xander stood against the wall, his belt bulging with gold and Chris standing shame-faced behind him.

“Couldn’t let him lose his hand, or his head.” Xander explained.

“Thank you, that was thoughtful.” Thom dumped all their profits on the table. “Most of you did quite well today. Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.

]]> http://www.hydypaige.com/final-exam/feed/ 0 http://www.hydypaige.com/bard/ http://www.hydypaige.com/bard/#comments Fri, 11 Dec 2009 13:00:45 +0000 Hydy http://www.hydypaige.com/?p=217

“Throw him out on his head!” The king cried.

Julian figured that was a better pronouncement than being thrown out without his head, but he still turned and ran for the doors before anyone could change the verdict. His multicolored balls still littered the floor, tripping up a few of the rushing guards. His pigeon darted about the rafters, but he always came home eventually. His guitar banged against his back and he darted about. They took hold of him before he made it out, but simply escorted him the rest of the way, with no throwing at all. Julian decided it was a fair end to the day and headed home.

The streets were full of revelers from the harvest festival; singing, drinking and staggering about. He lifted a purse here, toasted a few people there and made it home a little richer and warmer than he had started the day. The king had failed to pay him, and as a king’s money come from the people, it was only fair they should foot the bill.

His room at the top of the Roasted Boar was dry and warm since the rain had stopped the day before. He sat down on the straw mattress and spread out the purses he had gathered – five in all – to see what his performance had been worth that day. Four held a modest amount of money, silver coins and a few copper. The fifth was a shock, as he had targeted no one he thought very wealthy, they tended to make more problems when they came up short. It contained gold and several rings with fine cut gems.

Julian gazed at them, holding each up to the lamp for a better look. They had to be worth more than all the money combined. What were they doing in a plain leather purse of a drunken merchant? What was he going to do, no one would buy these off him, they would ask too many questions. Maybe it was time to head to the big cities of the coast after all.

Julian stuffed the money into the purses again and hid them about his person. The gold and rings he put inside his shirt. Making sure he had left nothing else behind, he slipped out of the inn and headed east. He would be able to flag down a carriage in the morning. Right now, he wanted to be as far away as his feet could take him.