The Elemental Jewels (Book 1)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  He dressed and made his bed, then went down to where he was entitled to the seat closest to the window, and found a glass of juice waiting for him. A young boy brought him his bowl of oatmeal, as his friends came to his table, and the day started anew.

  That day and the next were ordinary days for Grange. He made sure that he didn’t go down the street where Lurinda’s dressmaker shop was located on the first day, so that he didn’t appear too eager to follow the girl. On the following day though, he went down the street at noon, and saw Lurinda, working on a dress that was being worn by a live customer, a stout female who stood back in the shadows of the shop interior, preventing Grange from seeing many details of Lurinda’s appearance. He’d have to wait until she finished with the customer, but he had time to kill, so he stood near an alley and waited, until he heard his name unexpectedly called.

  “Grange! Grange, what a coincidence,” the voice of the band leader from the fest called out to him.

  “Our flute player is leaving town – are you ready to be the regular?” he asked as he reached Grange and shook his hand with a warm welcome.

  “I’d love to,” Grange replied immediately and sincerely. He enjoyed the music, he enjoyed the attention he received, and he suddenly envisioned a future of leaving the orphanage and making a living as a professional musician, playing at festivals and events throughout the city, night after night – he could end his career as a pickpocket. It seemed like a glamorous dream that might be within his reach. And it would make him that much more desirable to Lurinda, he hoped.

  “We have to play at the plaza on the north bank of the river tomorrow, from sunset to midnight. Can you be there?” the bandleader asked.

  “Certainly,” Grange said. “Will you have a flute there, or should I bring my own?” he asked.

  “Which will sound better?” his new coworker wanted to know.

  “Yours,” Grange answered candidly. His flute was old and slightly flat.

  “I’ll have it there for you; you can have it or buy a good one for yourself,” the band leader told him. “See you tomorrow. What a lucky chance; I don’t usually walk down this street,” he said, then gave Grange a pat on the shoulder, and continued on his way.

  Grange smiled broadly as he turned back to look at the shop. The customer had disappeared from view, and then she reappeared, wearing a different dress. Lurinda smiled at her, they exchanged a few words, and the lady left the shop, giving Grange the chance he sought to finally enter and speak to the girl alone. He crossed the street, put his hand on the door to push it open, then stopped at the sound of a loud outburst not far down the road. He turned his head to look, and saw a pair of brawny men, wearing the leather aprons of a blacksmith shop, push another man out of the wide open door of their shop, carrying him out and throwing him to the ground in the middle of the street as he shouted obscenities at them. They looked down at him for a half second, one of them pointed a finger and spoke something, then they turned and re-entered their shop, while the man continued to scream.

  He was a drunkard, or one of the crazy street people, Grange might have thought. Such men managed to live on the fringes of the city’s society for a few weeks or months whenever they appeared, but then they inevitably disappeared, either having moved on to some other city, or more commonly turning up dead – disease, starvation, and violence all equally common.

  Grange stared at this man though, as the drunkard rose to his feet, dusting himself off while still shouting irrational obscenities. The drunken tirade was not what made Grange stare in dropped jaw astonishment though. It was the appearance of a shadowy small dark lump on the back of the man’s neck, a shape that moved about in the vicinity of the man’s shoulders and head and neck, growing and shrinking unpredictably.

  The man started to stagger away from the blacksmith shop, going up the street away from Grange. He removed his hand from the door, and started to follow the strange, hallucinatory sight. There were no reactions from the other people on the street, other than they seemed to step away from him as though he were simply an ordinary drunkard.

  “Grange, you found the shop!” Lurinda opened the door and smiled at him.

  He turned to look at her, then turned to look at the departing drunkard. He looked back down the street, then back at her.

  “What is it?” she asked. The girl stepped out into the street, and Grange smelled a faint flowery fragrance as she brushed by him to look at his distraction.

  “Oh,” she said flatly. “He’s been around for a couple of weeks, maybe a fortnight. He’ll go away soon.

  “Come in, won’t you? Madame won’t be here until after lunch, so I’m all alone in the shop right now,” she told him, and he turned to look at her. Was the information meant to tell him something, he wondered.

  She stepped back into the shop, and he followed her in, the mystery of the shadow on the man’s back forgotten. He passed by a swath of white cloth, and was suddenly reminded of the Southgar girl, who was as pale and light-haired as he was.

  “How long have you played in the band at the festival?” Lurinda asked. “I didn’t know you played. When I saw you up there I turned to Emande and asked who it was. You stand out so well, you know,” she explained. “I’ve seen you before, of course,” she quickly added.

  “That was my first time to play with the band,” he replied then saw a spark of doubt in Lurinda’s eye, as she seemed to question whether he was really a musician or not.

  “But I’ll play with them again tomorrow night,” he told her. “We’ll be at the plaza on the north bank of the river,” he added the details, to make the job seem more real.

  “Would you like to come see us play?” he asked.

  “Perhaps,” she coyly replied. “Will you have time to do anything besides play music?”

  “Not until we’re done,” he answered thoughtfully. “But I could play a couple of dance songs at your request,” he tried to improve his offer.

  “Would they let you skip a song or two to dance?” Lurinda was standing slightly closer to him now, making him nervous.

  “If I asked, I’ll bet they would,” he tried to sound sage and convincing as he answered. He reached for a pin cushion on the counter next to where they stood, something to keep his hands occupied, as Lurinda stood so close they were practically touching one another, while she looked at him with eyes that were warm and inviting.

  He started to lean down, and she closed her eyes. It was incredible, his mind was telling him. He was about to kiss Lurinda. Everything seemed to slow down as his body bent and his lips puckered.

  Then there was a noise in the back of the shop. “Lurinda?” a woman’s voice called.

  The girl’s eyes popped open, and her hands flew up in a startled reaction. She struck his hands that were still holding the pin cushion, and popped it from his grip, making it fly upward, then descend.

  The world was no longer in slow motion. Instead it was moving faster than his brain and his hands could fathom. He groped in the air, trying to catch the prickly ball of material, and his hands plunged after the target instinctively, as it managed to drop with perfect precision down into the small opening between flesh and cloth where Lurinda’s cleavage was evident.

  Grange grasped the pin cushion, then squealed as one of the pins poked him palm.

  He realized where his hand was, and Lurinda’s eyes were huge, while her mouth began to open in a perfect circle.

  He jerked his hand free from its soft confinement, still holding the pin cushion.

  “I am sorry, so sorry,” he instantly said. “I didn’t mean, I didn’t even think.”

  His face had to be bright red, he could tell by the warmth he felt on his cheeks.

  The girl was still staring at him.

  “Lurinda?” the woman’s voice called again, from a closer part of the back of the shop.

  “It’s Madame; she’s early,” Lurinda said. She straightened her mussed clothing, then grabbed the pin cushion.

  �
��I’m right here,” she called.

  “Go, I’ll see you tomorrow. Stop by and pick me up,” she told him. One hand pushed him towards the door, while she placed the pin cushion back down and simultaneously twirled to face the back door.

  “I’m coming,” she told her proprietress, as Grange scrambled out the front of the shop and out into the street.

  Grange scrambled down the street, out of sight of the shop windows, then stopped and leaned against an alley corner. He was grinning from ear to ear, basking with satisfaction that despite his incredibly stupid action, Lurinda still was willing to go to see him play in the band. He felt his cheeks grow warm once again as he recollected the instantaneous reaction that had led his nimble fingers down into the front of the girl’s blouse, truly only thinking of trying to be helpful.

  He gathered his thoughts, then decided to return to the orphanage, to see if he was needed there for any reason. He cheerfully walked back to his home, only to stop in surprise a half a block away when he spotted Garrel. He veered across the street and turned down an alley, then stopped by a battered wooden door and waited for his friend to arrive.

  “You were quite the surprise the other night, playing with the band,” his friend told him as he joined him.

  “They’ve asked me to play with them again,” Grange happily told his friend. He had more good news to share as well, of course, but he wanted to space the reports out slightly.

  “That’s good,” Garrel told him. “Hockis has a job for us. Tomorrow night, at the plaza again,” he gave the basic details.

  “Already? So soon? Just three days after the last one, in the same place? That goes against all the rules Hockis has been preaching at us for the past year or more,” Grange protested.

  “I know,” Garrel nodded his head in agreement, and seemed to share the doubts momentarily. “But he knows best,” the boy overcame his concerns immediately.

  “I’ve got an engagement. I’m supposed to play with the band on the north bank, starting at sunset,” Grange said slowly. With the prospect of a semi-regular job playing in the band, the allure of thievery was suddenly diminished. “I didn’t expect him to want to go back to the plaza so quickly.”

  “We’ll be done before sunset,” Garrel waved the objection away breezily. “You work with us, then you go make music – nothing simpler.”

  “I promised Lurinda I’d walk her over to the plaza to hear us play,” Grange threw another wrench into the plan. “That’ll take a while more.”

  “Lurinda?” Garrel asked incredulously.

  “We talked at the fest the other night. I’ve just come from her shop, as a matter of fact,” Grange said.

  “You and Lurinda? That doesn’t make any sense,” Garrel stared at him.

  “Okay,” his friend puffed his cheeks as he concentrated. “I’ll find Hockis and tell him we have to be done an hour before sunset. Will that give you enough time?”

  “Not really,” Grange tried to estimate the time needed for him to walk the necessary route. “But I’ll make it work,” he added, as he saw the frustration growing on Garrel’s face.

  “You and Lurinda?” his friend asked again.

  “I’m going to find out,” Grange said. “But it looks promising for now,” he grinned.

  “Good for you,” Garrel slapped him on the shoulder. “Alright, meet at the plaza in midafternoon tomorrow, and we’ll get things taken care of in time for you to go have happy times, lucky guy!”

  He walked away and left the alley. Grange waited a minute to allow separation, then followed him out, and continued to the orphanage. He felt uneasy at the thought of another round of picking pockets – so many things in the past two days had piled up on this mind that he found that he didn’t want to add the complication of another effort to steal. He remembered the feel of the patrolman’s hand on his shoulder, and he remembered the terror of the old woman staring into his eyes. He thought about the joy of having a job and a girlfriend, and he felt tempted to chase Garrel down and cancel his involvement.

  Except he knew that his fingers were important. He was the key to the scam, and he didn’t want to just abandon his companions. Without him, they’d have no one to picket the pockets, to collect the money that was the sole purpose for carrying out the job.

  He returned to the orphanage for the rest of the day, feeling restless. He played tunes on his old flute to entertain the younger children, then ate supper with his friends and went to bed relatively early.

  Just as he went to bed feeling restless, he woke up the next morning feeling restless as well. Too many events and potentials and conflicts weighed on his mind, more weighty matters than he’d ever been exposed to in his whole previous life seemed to have all come to a head in the past few days, leaving him confused and anxious, and wishing that some miracle would come and simply cut through all the issues with one clean sweep.

  When the afternoon finally arrived, Grange was relieved to finally be in motion. He walked to the plaza, and took up a position in the western portion of the open space, so that he could watch for the beginning of Hockis’s magic show. He worried that the ringleader was going to wait for the late afternoon crowd, who traditionally seemed to carry more cash, and thereby throw all of Grange’s delicately timed plans into a fractured mess.

  But Hockis arrived as early as Grange wanted, and just a minute later, Garrel drifted into view as well.

  That gave Grange a sense of relief. Everything was in place, and suddenly all his worries melted away. He would work the crowd and collect the money, same as always. When they met to split up the profits, he’d tell his friends that he was finished with being a pickpocket, and wish them the best of luck, while he would move on with his plans to become a band member.

  Then he’d bolt over to find Lurinda, and finally go to the north shore plaza to spend the night playing music, and maybe dancing with the lovely girl, and who knew what else would happen!

  He inconspicuously sauntered over to the location Hockis had chosen for the magic show, a location that was different from the usual spot, closer to the walls and further from the alleys that Grange always preferred to escape into. Grange felt a mild prick of annoyance, but he held it down as he began to examine the backsides of the audience, looking for the targets and beginning to develop a planned route that would yield the greatest profit.

  Hockis was in his performance, laughing with the audience and holding their attention, although he fumbled his first juggling trick in a very uncharacteristic manner.

  “Now look at this volunteer over here,” he spoke loudly, giving Grange the clue that he was diverting attention over to Garrel. It was fast, again out of the ordinary, but Grange was thankful that the pace had picked up to give him more time afterwards. Accordingly, he sprang into action.

  He reached into the pocket of his first target and delicately squeezed his fingers around a heavy purse. He pulled it free as he walked on towards his next mark, then abruptly was jerked backwards by the purse. His eyes flew downward in astonishment, and he saw that a fine metal chain connected the purse to the inside of the pocket. The owner of the purse shouted in a deep voice, and then chaos erupted around Grange.

  A man in front of him turned and swung a truncheon at his head, while another man landed a hand on his shoulder. He thought he heard Garrel shout his name, and then a swarm of men had him surrounded, and were pummeling him into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 4

  Grange woke up, and wished that he didn’t. He felt sore from the top of his head down to his shins. He was in a damp, dark, gloomy place, and he gave a muffled moan as he started to roll over.

  “Take it easy, Grange,” he heard Garrel’s voice, though it sounded distorted.

  “Where are we?” Grange asked as he carefully sat up. He was lying on a cold stone floor in a dark space.

  “We’re in prison – the Tyrant’s own prison,” Garrel said. “That no-good double-crosser sold us out.”

  Grange had his hands up and h
is elbows propped on his knees as he rested his forehead gingerly on his hands.

  “They beat you pretty bad,” Garrel told him.

  “What happened?” Grange asked.

  “Hockis set us up. He gave us to the police so that he could go free,” Garrel said bitterly. “He got caught in the last job, the one that he took so long to return from, where we went to the third rendezvous. He told the patrol he could deliver us to them if they let him go, because he was just the front man. We’re the real criminals, he told them, if you can believe it!”

  Grange opened his eyes again, and realized they were adjusting to the darkness. He could see faintly. Garrel was sitting on a small bench that protruded from the wall.

  “Help me up,” Grange asked, as he held up his hand.

  “Oh, ow,” he said sharply as Garrel hoisted him upwards.

  “They beat you pretty bad,” Garrel repeated as he situated Grange on the bench so that he could lean against the wall. “I only saw you for a second or two, but there were a dozen patrol men punching you as you went down. Only two took me.”

  “What time is it? When will we get out?” Grange asked. He had no doubt that he’d already missed Lurinda, and probably the session with the band. He’d have to beg his way back into the good graces of the band leader, if he could use an arrest as an excuse from work.

  “We’ve been down here probably a day or so. They brought one meal, but I couldn’t eat it,” Garrel answered.

  “What happens next?” Grange asked.

  “What happens is that you two stop talking and let me sleep,” a voice spoke up from nearby.

  “The neighbors aren’t the best,” Garrel spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. “But at least it’s just the two of us in our cell.”