Red Jack

by Alex Linwood

  Pushing through the crowd, she got halfway across the courtyard when she tripped over a goose that had gotten loose from its pen. Cursing, she stumbled and looked behind her to see who the animal belonged to. As she turned, she glimpsed two Peters coming towards her. Her heart raced. He and his duplicate would have been able to sneak up on her if she hadn’t stumbled and seen them just by chance. She looked around for a quick escape or a place to hide, but Peter was too close. He would see wherever she tried to hide.

  She bolted east since it was the clearest direction. She got as far as she could until she turned a corner and ran into a wagon full of hay that was surrounded by people. She scanned for a way around the unexpected obstacle. Peter had gained on her—both of him. They would be upon her within a minute. She stared back at Peter in horror and then scrunched up her eyes and thought of Mark. She imagined his light moats at their most brilliant: she imagined the brightness of the sun.

  The flash of light was so intense it hurt her even with her eyes squeezed shut. She heard the crash of a wagon as its horses abruptly stopped and refused to move, whinnying in pain. Opening her eyes, she saw people bent over double, hands pressed to their eyes, even Peter—both of him. She wondered if the double Peter really had hurt eyes or if it was just a projection from whichever one was the real Peter. Neither one of them was looking at her. This was her chance.

  She didn’t want Peter to keep running after her. If she could really do other magic, like Mark’s magic of light moats and flashes, perhaps she could do Peter’s magic too. If she could have a double of her own, she could send it running off in the wrong direction and have Peter chase it.

  She quickly ducked behind a wagon, putting it between her and the Peters. Closing her eyes, she imagined a second Portia. She imagined her double on the other side of the wagon, closer to the gate. She felt a weakness in her hands and feet; her knees buckled a bit. She grabbed a hold of the wagon to steady herself. She opened her eyes and peered around the wagon towards the Peters. She gasped. Just past the Peters, looking back at her, she saw a clone of herself. She thought she was looking at a mirror. She raised her right arm, testing, but the clone did not raise its right arm in response. She willed the clone to back up two steps—and it did. Her heart soared in elation. She could do it! The thrill of victory almost made up for the drain of the energy she had to use to maintain the clone.

  The Peters were looking around, their eyesight having recovered. Portia ducked down behind the wagon again. She willed her clone to throw a stone at one of the Peters to draw their attention. It must have worked because she heard a yelp from their direction. Peeking out from the wagon again, she saw the Peters turn in the direction of her clone. She willed it to run out the gate, weaving in and out between pedestrians and road traffic. She didn’t know if it felt solid to the touch, so tried to guide it away from coming too close to other people. She wished she had paid more attention to Peter’s magic. She couldn’t remember if she had ever touched Peter’s clone, or if she seen anyone else do so. He did not use that trick all that often—at least not in the Black Cat den.

  The duplicate got farther into the gate area, finally disappearing outside and out of Portia’s view. She gave it two more seconds, watching the Peters continue to run after it, before releasing the spell. She was so exhausted from maintaining it, she could barely breathe. She wondered if she could die from running a spell too long. Could it drain all her life force?

  When she let go of the spell, both of the Peters stopped running. They hesitated for just a second, then continued running in the direction her duplicate had been heading before disappearing. Portia thought she had seen one of the Peters’ neck stiffen when he had stopped, as if he was going to look around and forced himself to not do so. Was someone watching him? She looked around in a panic for any other spying orphans.

  Chapter 5

  Portia didn’t see any watching orphans in the north gate area. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. She had to get out and away from the north gate as quickly as possible. She made her way east, looking out for Mark as she went. She went past a butcher’s stall, swiping a piece of salt pork from a barrel while the butcher was distracted with a mother and her two screaming kids. Tears were running down the children’s faces. Portia felt bad when she realized they were probably crying from the bright flash in the courtyard by the gate—the light flash that she had caused.

  She knew that disruptive magic was frowned on by the city guards and captain. They would surely lock her up and bring her in front of a judge if they knew she was the one who had caused the disturbance. Things did not go well for orphans who made it in front of judges. She knew of Black Cats who had been brought in front of one and never came back. No one knew for certain what happened to them. Even the gate guards didn’t seem to know.

  She chewed on the salt pork as she walked towards the harbor gate. She was grateful for the food. Between staying up all night and using so much magic, she was exhausted. Her head felt weak, and her feet tingled as she walked.

  Passing down the street, she spied a hat in the back of a wagon parked there. She checked and seeing that the wagon’s driver was distracted looking at the foot of one of his horses, she swiped the hat as she passed by, tucking it into her jacket. Once she turned the next corner, she put the hat on her head, pulling it down low to hide her eyes. The hat smelled of fresh hay and farm waste. She wrinkled her nose but did not remove it. She tucked her hair inside to further change her appearance. She was too tired to run. Hopefully, no one would recognize her with this small disguise. She wished she had a different jacket than her old dingy one. The Black Cats would easily recognize it even if it was turned inside out.

  She quickly finished the piece of meat she had stolen and regretted not getting more when she could. Her stomach growled, but there were no stands to steal from between the city markets. The streets were still relatively quiet as most of the city was not up yet.

  Reaching the harbor market, she scanned for Mark. There were fewer people than yesterday even though the royal ship was still in the harbor. Perhaps the populace was bored with its presence when nothing exciting had happened yesterday. They no longer hoped for a glimpse of a royal.

  She also looked for Brown Hares: the harbor market was their territory. Worse yet, they were now somehow in league with Deyelna. Portia wished she still had the letter she had stolen from the Hare, but Deyelna now had it. It might have been useful. Or perhaps it was for the best to no longer have it in her possession. Portia shivered involuntarily at what might happen if she was caught with it by a Hare—or worse yet, a Serpent. Surely, the boy she had stolen it from knew it was missing by now.

  Portia wandered over to the pastry stall, looking for Mark and any other orphans while considering if it was worth the risk of stealing a pastry. The last thing she should be doing right now is taking another chance, but she was extremely hungry. Her mind was demanding food. But before she could get closer to the stall, she spied Merwin’s head of black dreadlocks. He was turning and scanning the crowd. Portia could have sworn that he saw her, but he kept turning, his eyes passing over her and continuing to look. He walked off in the direction of the water. If Merwin was here, then there was a chance there were other Black Cats as well.

  Portia turned, scanning the crowd, and saw four Black Cat orphans directly behind her and approaching her fast. They must have been following her. The one in front made eye contact with Portia as he ran forward to grab her. Portia put up one hand to deflect him, squeezed her eyes shut, and summoned a light flash. But she was weak. The flash was not bright enough to blind all of them, but the lead Cat stumbled and rubbed his eyes.

  Portia pulled out some caltrops from her bag and threw them on the ground in front of the remaining three Black Cats. She turned and fled towards the ships in the harbor. Two of the Black Cats could not stop themselves in time and they stepped on the sharp metal caltrops she had thrown on the ground. They bounced on one foot in pain, and one of them
fell to the ground, blood streaming from his shoe.

  Portia heard the last Black Cat running after her. She hurried her pace as much as she could, a sharp pain in her side pulling with each step.

  She veered towards the docks, not thinking. She ran down the wooden structure, feeling it bounce with her weight. The vast ocean in front of her terrified her, but her pursuer was now between her and solid land. She ran further down the dock hoping to find an escape on a ship somehow. Ahead, she spied a gangplank coming down from a large galleon. Running up the plank, she nearly collided with a sailor at the top. He yelled in surprise and outrage and tried to grab her. She evaded his hands. Running across the ship, she also avoided the other sailors who were yelling at her intrusion and scrambling after her.

  There was an adjacent ship on the other side, but it was too far to jump over the gap in between them. She spied a rope towards the rear of the ship and ran towards it. The Black Cat pursuing her reached the top of the gangplank just as she reached the rope. He saw her and sprinted in her direction.

  Grabbing the rope, Portia took a running start towards the other ship. The Black Cat adjusted his pursuit to intercept her path. He would have reached her too—before she was able to swing over to the other ship—but a sailor grabbed a hold of the orphan’s jacket and slowed him down just enough for her run by. She held on tightly to the rope while she ran off the deck towards the other ship. She swung out over the water. Reaching the height of the rope’s arc, she closed her eyes and let go, hoping she had enough momentum to land on the next ship’s deck. After what seemed an eternity, she landed with a thud, rolling across the deck. She had made it. The Black Cat behind her did not. He had tried to jump the gap and was not able to get to the other side. He fell into the ocean with a splash.

  Portia ran past the surprised faces of the sailors on the second ship. She found their gangplank. Thankfully, it was extended to the dock below. She ran down it and turned on the dock towards the shore before any of the sailors had reacted to grab her.

  Portia ran through the harbor market, all thoughts of grabbing more food gone. She headed towards the last city gate—surely the Black Cats weren’t guarding them all.

  The city was waking up. The streets were more crowded. Portia struggled to make good time as she had to walk around the people in the streets while looking out for wagons and pickpockets. The surest safety was to have a good distance between herself and others. She knew from personal experience how innocent a thief could look.

  She was halfway to the next gate when she saw another Black Cat on the street behind her. She forced herself to move faster, trying to keep out of sight as much as possible, keeping wagons and groups of people between herself and the Black Cat as much as possible. She hoped she had not been recognized. The Black Cat behind her was a younger female orphan, who had just joined the gang last year; she was not as bold as others. She was also tiny at ten years old. Even if she had spotted Portia, more than likely she was waiting for reinforcements. The best thing would be to lose her before those reinforcements came.

  Portia considered laying down the rest of her caltrops but decided against it. She had just a few left. It was better to save them for emergencies. Besides, there were too many regular citizens out who might step on them while the Black Cat behind her could easily avoid them once alerted to their presence.

  When she reached the gate, she realized she had been herded there. There were at least five Black Cats spaced around the courtyard in front of the gate. She picked them out of the crowd quickly, even with the crush of vendors and farmers and guards. Three years of working the street as a thief had sharpened her eyes for friend and foe alike.

  Another figure caught her eye—a tall man all in black. The crowd scattered out of his way. Portia’s heart thumped. He looked like the man that had chased her and Mark from the harbor market. Could he be the anti-magicker they’d overheard discussed in the warehouse meeting? The Black Cat members ignored the man, neither avoiding him nor joining him. Portia chilled at the strange behavior. Goosebumps rose on her arms. He passed out of the courtyard. She breathed a sigh of relief. He scared her more than the gang members.

  The Black Cats had spied her. They moved towards her, constricting their circle. Portia saw a large wagon train exiting the gate, the guards holding the swinging metal doors open for them. She ran for the gap between the guard and the front wagon—flashing light moats at the two nearest Black Cats who tried to grab her. She thought that was the last of her energy for magic, at least for now. She had to get out. She had to rest.

  She turned sideways as she slipped between the guard and the wagon. The guard looked surprised and then infuriated. He had no reason to grab her except that she was running, but that was enough to trigger his instincts. He ran ten steps after her before looking back at his now-abandoned post at the gate. Cursing, he went back to his duty, giving up the pursuit.

  Portia ran down the hill away from the city and over the next crest towards the forest that lay just over it away from the city. The wagons on the road behind her creaked and rumbled, then the noise faded into nothing as she ran from them. There was no one around her on the gravel road. As she passed over the crest, she felt the silence of the country and the nearby forest. It was so different from the city. The lack of sound was smothering. There were no calls of vendors, no children screaming, no mothers calling, no sounds of wagons on the city’s brick streets.

  She slowed, her heart pounding, gasping for breath. She looked around for a place to hide. There was only the forest before her, dark and foreboding. Otherwise, the country was open, not a building or even a boulder to hide behind.

  She grasped her hands into fists then walked resolutely towards the forest. She wouldn’t go in far, but she did have to get out of sight from the road.

  Entering the forest, the cool shade felt good. She realized she was soaked in sweat. Taking off her hat, she used it to fan herself. She walked behind a large tree. Leaning against it, she slid down to sit at its base.

  After a few moments, when the pounding of her heart receded, sounds began to fill her ears. Birds were singing. The faint call of crickets came from the nearby countryside. A small furry animal scampered by. This made her feel a bit better about the forest. She hoped if the small creatures were out then nothing more dangerous was around .

  She rested there until the growling of her stomach forced her to think about what to do next. She couldn’t just stay there. Besides the issue of eating, there was her safety. It felt okay in the forest in the morning, but what would it be like at night? Who knew what lurked in the dark woods. Also, she had to find Mark. Much as she was loath to move, staying was not an option. At least not right now.

  Looking back at the hill that hid the city, she got up and dusted herself off. The Black Cats had not followed her outside the gate, not that she could see. Perhaps they were under orders not to. She knew that if she had not been desperate, she would not have exited the city either. Most of the orphans in the Black Cats had never stepped one foot outside of Valencia—their parents had disappeared, or died, leaving the children to survive, or not, as they could. Other cities had enough of their own orphans, she had heard. The guards would not let more in the gate if they could help it.

  She walked back towards Valencia. There were vendors that had set themselves up outside the city walls. Perhaps one of them had seen Mark—if he had been just as desperate as she was and run out of the gate without her. Portia walked closer, carefully keeping stalls and people between her and the watching guards at the city gate.

  Asking around, she was discouraged when none of the vendors had seen Mark. They shook their heads at her, then waved her away when she lingered too long without buying anything. There was limited daylight, and they were already in a disadvantaged location. The last thing they needed was a scrawny orphan interfering with their business.

  Portia went to check the other gates again. She could do so by circling the city—all except the harb
or gate. No one at the west gate, nor at the north gate, had seen Mark.

  She didn’t know what to do. It was now close to noon. The sun was hot and high above. She sat down heavily against a tree that backed up against an apple vendor. Her heart hurt. In less than one day, she had lost her gang, who were the only family she could really remember, her home with them, and the orphan she thought of as her little brother. She couldn’t remember much of her other family, as she thought of them. The one she had been born to. There were odd memories of light flashes, stairs, chains clanking, and a warm fuzzy face looking down on her. She thought the warm face must have belonged to her mother, only because of the safe feeling she associated with it. She couldn’t remember any features distinctly. She could only remember a face, and then the loud noises and light flashes. And the trauma of loss afterwards.

  Somehow, she had found the gang—or they had found her—giving her a safe place to be. But that was under John, who had been the leader of the gang when she had joined.

  John was dead now. Deyelna was in charge, and everything had changed. Portia sighed heavily. Three of the four gangs in the city would now attack her on sight. She wasn’t sure how long the Lynx would stay friendly, if they were actually friendly at all or just hadn’t recognized her.

  And not getting attacked was entirely different from being invited to join another gang. Invitations were hard to come by. And precious. They were often the difference between life and death on the streets. Her chance of getting another one was especially low since she had already belonged to a rival gang in the city. Without a gang for protection or a place to live, survival in the city would be difficult.

  She stared at the road that led away from the north gate. There were other cities. She had heard of them, especially from the sailors who hung around the harbor gate. Perhaps there was another city friendlier to young orphans. Or at least one without a leader holding a personal grudge against her. She would do whatever it took to blend into the background. Her problems had only started in earnest when Deyelna had realized that Portia could resist her abilities—a rare magical talent. The only other person she knew that had possessed it was now dead, so perhaps that was what Deyelna planned for her as well. Mark did not have it. If Portia was not around, maybe Deyelna would take it easy on him. He had done nothing wrong himself. Portia felt awful even thinking it, but it could be true that Mark would be better off with Portia gone.