by T B Phillips
She searched the crowd for a new mark until her favorite scene caught her eye. The puppeteer held up two large squids, designed to represent the legendary Kraken of the ocean depths. She loved the myths about the beast and would often sit at the docks listening to the sailors tell the tales. Every child in Andalon knew that if you sailed too far east, the beasts would tear your ship into splinters. She stared intently as the puppet pirate king rose up and took control of the strings of the beasts, directing them to rip apart the parapets of the fortress, tossing defenders into the water.
She had seen the show several times and knew the ending awaiting the miniature Pirate’s Cove. In life, Braston brought total destruction to the city he had intended to keep as his own. By now nothing could tear the crowd away from the enthralling carnage on the magnificent little stage.
A wealthy merchant and his wife stood nearby, eyes wide and huddled together in fear of Braston’s magical and massive tidal wave. The thought of dark arts repulsed the woman, and she burrowed into her husband’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his love, his fat belly raising his tunic above his belt. This created a perfect scenario for the redheaded thief, and Kali acted quickly.
Moving in close and careful not to jostle the pair, the girl slashed two strings and dropped the heavy purse into her waiting satchel. Neither man nor wife noticed the lightest sound of coins jingling. At the same time, deft little fingers worked the clasp on the women’s heavy golden bracelet. It slid easily into the thief’s pocket. Feeling emboldened, she took an extra second to lift a loaf of rye bread. She drew it from the woman’s shopping bag and stowed it with the coins.
Kali felt eyes watching and adrenaline surged, causing her back to stiffen. Constables and their deputies scoured the city on market days, many wearing plain clothing to hide in the crowd. She searched the surrounding people, wondering who had seen her crime. She had two witnesses. One was a young girl clutching a princess doll in a regal dress. The toy clashed with the child. Although she looked clean and well looked after, her own clothing was tattered and badly worn. She’s only a poor farmer’s daughter, Kali assumed and dismissed the threat.
Her eyes focused on the other witness, a boy leaning against a fruit stand. He was tall and lean with coal black hair. His steely eyes bore through her soul with obvious hatred. She recognized him as a member of the Wolfpack, a local gang who claimed and worked the lower sector. He would pose a problem.
She casually approached another target, trying not to tip the boy that she had noticed him spying. You’re welcome to watch, she thought, maybe you’ll learn a trick or two. The street gangs in Logan were nothing more than loosely organized groups of miscreants and orphans. Usually, they committed only petty larceny but worked their turf with permission of the Thieves’ Guild. Known for hefty fencing fees, the guild accepted items from all sources and those included Kali.
The only consequence for working someone else’s street would come if the boy caught up with her. She doubted that he would, but secretly hoped that he would try. She smiled at the prospect of a fight, and several surprises awaited anyone challenging her right to work the street.
Kali spied another boy moving the opposite direction through the crowd, no doubt running to gather reinforcements. Applause rang out from the audience, signaling the conclusion of the performance. People would be tossing coins to the players, and several would realize their missing purses and shout for the nearest constable. She wanted to pick one more pocket before fleeing and would have to work quickly.
Her new mark was a drunken soldier enjoying the festivities and winter mead. He ambled toward three whores standing on the doorstep of their brothel. He hefted a heavy bag of coins and jingled them, no doubt judging which quality of girl he could afford. No, stupid girl, Kali tried to warn herself, don’t be greedy. She knew that she should pass him over and leave safely, but his lechery fueled her desire to punish him. Men like him prey on women like mama, her mind insisted, and he’s just like the man who killed her. That thought was enough to risk capture.
She moved in close, pleased that the women had not noticed their potential client. He had returned the purse to his belt, tucking it in rather than tying. That makes it tougher to grab, she thought, but I like a challenge. The plunder would require more creativity, but Kali would take the coins.
He was nearly in range of the whores and Kali worked fast. One final glance toward her watcher revealed him and others moving in with determined looks. Thinking quickly, Kali loosened several buttons on her blouse, revealing much of her freckled chest. After running her hands through her wild red hair, she swept in with a flourish, wrapping her arms around the waist of the sodden soldier. “Hey there, handsome!” She shot a theatrical glance over her shoulder and indicated the three girls on the corner. “If you’re looking for a good time you can get me for half their price.”
The drunk pushed her away with force, too embarrassed that she had touched him to notice his now missing purse. Pointing at the three street women he said, “I want a professional, not a child.”
She feigned hurt at his words and discreetly slipped the prize into her satchel. “Are you sure? There are some men who’d prefer a child.” She batted her eyes with a fake look of pout. “They charge gold, but I’d do it for a copper”
The man chuckled, “If you’d do it for a copper then you’ve got diseases.”
By now the legitimate prostitutes had noticed the exchange and one of them, a busty blonde in her late twenties, pushed Kali away from the soldier and spoke with gutter speech, “This is ow cornah! Move away from ow customah!”
Taking advantage of the intervention, she shouted an apology and ran. She only had a short time before the soldier would realize that he could no longer afford any of the girls. Worse, the Wolfpack was already in hot pursuit. She sped down market street with haste, ears listening for whistles from constables. Hopefully they wouldn’t have time to waste on a common thief.
Kali ducked around a butcher shop and into an alleyway. Footsteps echoed the pursuers closing in. Normally she would have run into a crowd, jostling her small frame through and using people to block the would-be assailants. She had been chased hundreds of times through these streets, sometimes by a constable but most often by a failed mark who felt their purses lift. Safety always came with crowds for a street urchin, especially one as old and wise as she. But she had a different strategy in mind.
In all of her fourteen years, she had never led a chase into an indefensible position. The streets of Logan were narrow, and this alley even more cramped. Kali wheeled around with a wide smile stretched across her freckled face. Four boys, all larger and a few years older than she, skidded to a stop and stared her down. The oldest, a dirty teen of about seventeen summers, pushed coal black hair out of his eyes and spat out a stream of gutter speech, “Yah made ah blasted mistake. This turf be the Wolfpack’s.”
The girl continued smiling as she watched the boys form a semi-circle, trapping her against the dense ivy climbing the brick wall of an ironworks. She knew that she shouldn’t have been working streets owned by a gang, but she had already lifted a week’s worth of rations before the boys had noticed her. That, and what was about to come next, made her morning excursion worthwhile. “These streets belong to a different pack now. You’d best stay out of my way.”
The boys laughed in unison. One of the younger boys looked to the oldest and asked earnestly, “Can we rough her up, Matt?”
“No.” The wiser and more experienced leader shook his head with an evil grin. “You don’t be roughin’ up girls as pretty as she. You teach ‘em a lesson they won’t soon fuhget, and you do it with their skirts ovah thah head.”
A growl turned the boys’ attention and filled them with fear. Six snarling dogs emerged from hiding places behind crates. Kali knelt down beside the biggest, hugging and kissing the top of its head. She whispered into the animal’s ear loud enough for
the boys to hear. “The big one has an evil heart. You should harm only him and let the others go.”
Matt’s companions stepped away from him with caution, most likely weighing their lives over loyalty. With eyes locked on the dogs they backed toward the alleyway entrance. He remained frozen in place, afraid to move. The animals snarled as they circled, trapping him as he had done to Kali. Defiantly he found his voice, betrayed by cracking fear. “I… I’m sorry. I wouldn’t really rape yah! I… I just wanted to scare yah off ah turf.”
“Like I said. There’s a different pack in town, and we roam all of Logan.” Kali snapped her fingers and the dogs returned to her side. She narrowed her eyes and added, “Stay out of our way.” At her final command the dogs sat in unison.
Matt trembled at how well the dogs obeyed their master, but what happened next horrified him beyond reasonable terror. An army of roaches and spiders emerged from the rubbish and crates, tiny feet clattering as they advanced. He whimpered as they halted six inches away, leaving a narrow trail leading away.
“If you see me again, don’t look at me,” Kali warned. All at once the army of insects moved an inch closer and then stopped. Matt jumped and urine ran down the inside of his breeches. With a smile she added, “In fact, don’t even see me.” The boy nodded between sobs and ran from the alley.
She turned to face the wall and willed the ivy to animate, twisting and braiding into a strong ladder. She made her way onto the rooftop, the ladder unwinding after each step. From this vantage she gazed out at the city, pleased with her morning and excited about her newly won turf.
Movement overhead caught her attention and she paused. Fifteen hawks circled overhead, scanning the streets. What are they looking for, she wondered, remembering the ramblings of the old man, or who? She crouched low and moved across the rooftops, making her way with stealth and avoiding the crowded streets.
After a few minutes Kali arrived at her hideout. Standing atop an abandoned warehouse, she tripped the latch to a narrow vent and slipped inside. She had long ago barred the main door, making the roof the only entrance. Only weeks before she had added noisemakers inside, hoping they would alert her of intruders.
Once inside she surveyed the comfort in her tiny apartment that had formerly been a foreman’s office. She lifted some rugs in the corner to reveal a small chest. She never had the key, but locks had never been a problem for Kali. She took out her pick and popped it open, revealing a small fortune of coins of all color and shape. To this she added her newly acquired spoils, including the bracelet.
Exhausted and cold from her ordeal in the streets, she curled up under several blankets and tightly closed her eyes. She soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep. Hours later bells rang violently, arousing her from her slumber. Her eyes shot open with alarm as she realized that danger approached.
She held her breath and listened to sounds of movement outside the building. Looking down from the barred window, she had to squint to see through the grime covered glass. Several hooded figures had gathered. They shook the large doors below, trying to gain access. Her heart raced as she recognized the Falconers, remembering the birds that had circled above. In her carelessness she had led them to her safe place, and now she must leave.
The specters focused on the heavy wooden doors, dust swirling and forming a dust devil. Shit. She broke her thoughts away from their ministrations and threw her belongings into her satchel. Along with the gold she grabbed some dried meat and a few overly ripened fruits. She had one chance for escape. She already had a destination in mind but had hoped for more time to plan her travels. It was now or never.
Kali moved a box away from the wall revealing a loose plank in the wall. She pressed on the board and made an opening, then tossed her satchel inside the space. She squeezed into the narrow gap, pausing only to return the crate to hide signs of her escape. Once inside she slid a bar into place, sealing the exit. The sound from inside the wall was deafening as the doors of the warehouse imploded. A powerful gust of wind shook the entire structure and the skeletal frame strained under some outside force.
Abruptly the roof lifted off and flew into the night sky, stars brightly shining down from above. Beneath her, sounds of heavy feet rushed inside. She closed her eyes tightly and silently made her way through the crawlspace in the wall. If I can just make it to the tree, she thought. But as she neared the opening, she spotted several large raptors perched high in the branches, eyes darting everywhere in the night and presumably searching for her whereabouts.
She knew the truth about the Falconers from the old man in the city square. She had first met him a month earlier when he had begun preaching about the awakenings. At first, she had dismissed his ramblings as some crazy new religious zealot. There were always plenty of those in the city. But his words hit home when she first experienced hew own powers. She knew right away that she was also an emotant.
Kali had spent much of her time with the old man. She listened to his warnings about the Falconers, the agents of an alien culture beyond the sea. He had no doubt seen her watching and listening, but never approached until the previous week. She had been kneeling, talking into the ears of stray dogs when he spoke directly to her. “I’ve seen those alley scavengers many times, but I’ve never known them to allow a human close enough to touch.”
“They like me,” she had responded with indifference. Like the animals, she rarely allowed strangers close enough to engage in conversation. She secretly hoped that he could sense her power.
“That they do.” He had turned to leave, and she had been amazed that he didn’t intend to press for her secrets.
“Is there a safe place?” Kali’s words had the intended effect and the old timer paused with a slight smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry? Is there a safe place for whom?”
“Is there a safe place for emotants? A school, maybe? Somewhere they could run to when the Falconers come to reap the ones they’ve missed.” Her eyes met his, still smiling like a proud grandfather entertained by a child’s antics. “Somewhere to learn how to control it?”
“Yes. And it isn’t far. If one were to journey up the Logan River into the Forest of Diaph, an emotant could find others like her.”
“Or him.” She winked at him, slyly. “I was only asking for a friend.”
He had nodded, a glimmer of humor in his eye. “Of course, you were.”
The next day she had convinced herself that she would seek him and press for more information. But when she arrived three Falconers had already bound him with their magic. She watched as a local magistrate and constable read out a death sentence for the old man before the beast-like administrators dangled his neck from the highest branches of a tree. They apparently no longer cared to hide their powers from the public, not with agents like the old man exposing them to the world.
A nearby shriek returned her attention to the warehouse. She had to get the birds out of the tree. Seeing that their talons were tightly wound around the branches she focused on the trunk. It began to move slowly to the side as if it were gently moving in the squall. Thank the gods that they can’t fly in this windstorm. Finally, she released the great oak and it whipped upright like a sapling. The birds were flung across the street, crashing into the brick of a silo. One by one seven raptors fell to the ground, crippled or dead from the impact.
The Falconers howled screams of raging pain somewhere inside the building and she heard pounding feet rushing to her secret room. They tried to batter down the door. She scurried out of the opening and leapt onto the waiting branches of the tree, quickly swinging down and sprinting to a narrow gap in the ground. She slid into the sewer just as a wisp of wind, similar to the ropes from which her old friend had dangled, narrowly missed catching her arm. And thus, she escaped into the night. The Falconers could not follow her into the crack to the cistern, and their airborne eyes could not see through the streets into the maze of tu
nnels beneath Logan.
After she finally felt safe enough to stop running, she drew a piece of paper from her satchel. Before he had been arrested, the old man had tied a string around the neck of one of the alley strays. She had known it was he who left the message because she had seen him petting the dog shortly before the Falconers had arrived. Of course, the animal had sought her out later and delivered the simple note with two words scribbled in a shaky hand. Estowen’s Landing.
Chapter Four
Fatwana Nakala pulled the shroud over a motionless body. This oracle had been a young man in his early twenties, his life stripped away before he had fully lived. He had shown much promise as an oracle but failed to transcend deep into Ka’ash’mael before his heart gave out. The initiates had recorded very little up until his passing, but enough clues corroborated what she already believed. Unfortunately, she had no one to whom she could confide her belief and tucked the latest transcription into her robe.
She touched the stone altar beside the corpse. Fatwana’s own sister had died in the same fashion and this shrouded husk brought back painful memories. How many more must die, she thought, giving up their young lives for the Council? Her sister had died after revealing the awakening of a powerful emotant, one who even the Chancellor feared.
Ashima’s final prophesy had thrown the Council into an uproar as they argued over the interpretation. For years the Astian Council had focused attention on the prophecies regarding one man, the destroyer foretold many centuries before. The awakening of all four powers seemingly confirmed their fears. The Kraken King would be the doom of the Astian way of life, and he would lead an army of emotants.
