by S E Zbasnik
Ah. Hayley spotted her first target. He wore a mask of silver, half of it cut away to reveal an eye already red. Despite the drink, he nearly managed to hide his inebriated state. Only an occasional tip in his walk gave him away. Hayley slipped into his wake, Larissa wandering further behind. From a stand offering dice games, to another promising the future told, Hayley trailed him.
She kept her cool, hunting for the rhythm. It was in there, she knew it. Same as a fight, really. Match ‘em step for step. The mark stepped up to a tall booth, his hips bashing into the wood. “S’rry,” he slurred.
The owner tried to reach out to steady him even while glaring. Which was when Hayley reached forward with her left hand as if she really wanted a small candy stick. That drew her directly against the man’s hip, allowing her right pinky and ring finger to cup the coin purse and a small blade to knick the loop clean off. When the reassuring weight landed in her palm, she pocketed the coins instantly and sighed at the candy maker.
“Oh, peppermint? Never mind.” With a steady gait and slow step, Hayley returned to Larissa leaving the now penniless drunkard to stumble on to the next booth.
“You didn’t do anything,” Larissa folded her arms.
“No?” Hayley chuckled, unearthing the purse. She counted through the coins quickly, scowling at how many useless coppers were inside. Wait, there was one grout. Every one added up, that was all that mattered. And they had all night.
Secreting away the loose coins, Hayley tossed the cut purse to the ground as if it accidentally fell. Larissa watched it before she raised her shoulders higher, “My turn.”
“Move quick, no second guessing. If anyone seems to spot you, stop and…”
Larissa turned her venomous gaze upon her. “I can handle it,” she said as if she was some nefarious bandit. Hayley parted her hands, happy to let her at it. With a snit in her nose, Larissa wandered into the fold. She circled outside a group of people. Not always smart as they tended to watch each other, unless you could distract them, then…
Oh shit! Hayley broke into a jog, her eyes calculating as Larissa’s greedy hand swung to a purse far too close to a man’s thigh. The others were turning to her, about to catch her. “Hey!” Hayley shouted, drawing all eyes to her. It was enough of a second for Larissa to yank her hand free just as the group turned to the girl who was clearly scowling.
“Yes, hello,” Larissa spat.
“I ain’t seen you in forever. How are you?” Hayley kept on as the group began to move away.
“What are you doing?” Larissa hissed.
“Saving your ass, for God’s sake. Do you want us to get caught?”
The naive squire raised her head towards the impossible get and sniffed. “I nearly had it.”
“No, you nearly had a man grab your arm, call for the guards, and get your butt tossed into the clink. Don’t go for purses right in front of them.”
“I didn’t know that!” Larissa waved her hands in the air, hissing at Hayley. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Way I remember it, you wouldn’t let me. Just…” Hayley dug a hand over her forehead. “How about you be the distraction and I’ll do the lifting. Okay?”
“I can do it,” Larissa fumed, clearly meaning the picking herself.
“Uh huh.” Hayley didn’t have time to point out all the other wrong moves she made. Instead, she shoved hard into Larissa sending the girl spinning away. Clamping a hand around her mouth, Hayley shouted, “Oh my god, what is she doing?!”
That drew a dozen people to the still twirling girl, whose eyes cut through the crowd to glare murder at Hayley. She shrugged, her arms clasped, and watched Larissa being surrounded by marks. A phony laugh rose up Larissa’s throat and, as if she was touched in the head, she began to leap from one foot to the next singing. It was too perfect.
Three butts were presented to Hayley, all of them dangling quickly emptied purses in her face. She clung to the pile of coppers, folding them all into her pouch, as she vanished away from the leaping Larissa. They were going to need a lot more cuts before this was done. When the crowd grew weary of Larissa’s repeated retinue, the girl paused and glared at Hayley for forcing such embarrassment upon her.
With a cruel smile, Hayley pointed to another pair of fresh faces all ripe for the picking. “Wow, I can’t believe this!” Hayley shouted, launching Larissa into her second show for the evening.
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. One. Two…
“How close are we?”
Hayley growled. “I dunno, someone keeps talking while I’m counting!” One. Two. Three…
They’d worked their asses off, combing the entire festival twice over. Usually, Larissa would provide the rather disturbing distractions while Hayley went fishing, but once or twice Hayley let her have a go at it. She stumbled across someone so drunk they were passed out and trying to breathe in dirt. Seemed a safe bet for Larissa.
It’d been going great for the first hour, their goal almost half reached. Then the wine ran dry, so sleep and other bed-like activities pulled nearly all of their marks indoors. By the time the moon began to descend to the horizon, Hayley and Larissa nearly left alone. The pair wandered the grounds, hoping to stumble across a dropped coin or two. But when that proved fruitless, they left the scene of the crime and found a place beside the fountain square to count out the loot.
At least, that’s what Hayley had been trying to do, hoping with each stack she’d somehow discover an extra grout or two hiding in amongst the rest. It wasn’t looking good.
“Well…?” Larissa prompted.
“Down a grout and a half,” Hayley summed up, wincing against the smoke of the torchlight as she cinched up the bag.
Larissa bounced a borrowed bottle of wine to her lips. She didn’t tip it back to drink, just kept bashing into them as if in thought. The sloshing of cheap grape juice distracted Hayley from the growing mass pushing on her chest.
“Truth be told,” Hayley admitted to herself, “I never stole this much in one night. Not even close.” Fire burned down her throat as she turned to stare at a perfect Larissa making certain her gaze was anywhere but near Hayley’s. “So now you know.”
“Know what? That you’re a pickpocket? Please, you were dressed in burlap at the tryouts. You stank of sewer water and had no concept of proper squire etiquette. Any etiquette, really. If you weren’t some miscreant, I’d have thought you were mentally deranged and snuck in under the cart.” With her cutting remarks finished tattering Hayley’s self-esteem to shreds, Larissa finally took a swig of the wine.
“What is it with you? I thought we were at least on an I won’t shank you in the back terms. Now you drop right back down to ‘Oh, you filthy gutter swine. My perfumed fingers, soft as a lamb’s belly, crackle if I dare draw a yard close to your pocked skin.’”
The wine bottle’s bottom rang out on the stone fountain, Larissa glaring. “I wasn’t the one rubbing it in how great I am at stealing coin from unsuspecting drunkards.”
“You think I was bragging?” Hayley gasped, causing Larissa to snort as if it was obvious. “Like I think that’s something worth bragging about? Okay, sometimes, yeah, if the pick is pure butter, but… What do you care? You went to some fancy school to learn knight shit. I assume you have a family that paid for it. Cutting purses ain’t exactly in that wheelhouse.”
Larissa folded her arms tight and whipped her glare to the trashed streets being caressed by a finger of dawn. “It seems simple enough. Dextrous hands, quick eyes. Anyone can learn.”
“Sure, sure, you learn real quick what the kick of a bastard’s boot on your ass feels like too.” Hayley sighed. She’d been picking, cutting, and swiping for over two years because it was that or starve. Sometimes the risk wasn’t even worth it. But here was miss fancy pants acting as if it was some noble pursuit.
“I don’t get it. So you ain’t better than me at picking. So what? Do you have to be the best at everything?”
Larissa’s green eyes narrowed to blo
odletting pinpricks. “You will never understand what it is to be…to have things expected of you.”
“Uh, squire, out here swiping all the coin I can for my knight. That’s expectations. Kinda…” Hayley’s stomach churned at how Gavin would take this news. Maybe she wouldn’t have to tell him, maybe he wouldn’t ask.
“What title is in your name? What family do you have pressing upon you to give up your foolish pursuits and embrace what was to be your destiny?”
“None,” Hayley said, her teeth thrusting out her bottom lip, “‘cause I lived on the streets with rats for pillows. Oh, poor Larissa. Life’s so hard for her. She might have an ingrown toenail!”
Larissa folded her hands tighter in between her thighs, her legs clenching together as if trying to press her palms to paste. “I went along with it. I…I thought that it was normal. Told myself it was. Wanted to pretend I even…I wanted it.” Her face puckered up as she began to cup her chest to her knees.
“But not you,” Larissa snickered as if it was the best joke ever. “Nope. You don’t want to do something, you let it be known. You fight back. You… Some street trash with rats for pillows is stronger.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s his,” Hayley said solemnly, her skin itching at the damn subject dredged up once again.
That brought a cackle from the girl. “Your knight told you to say that, didn’t he?”
She winced at being called out and caught. Gavin didn’t give her much guidance when it came to Larissa, only to repeat that phrase if she got all mopey about Frederick. Like it’d help. Like it’d soothe away all the pains. At least he was trying. All the other knights acted as if nothing happened, some claiming Frederick was wrongly accused and punished. Insisted they should have another challenge to bring Frederick back into the fold. Except when it was Gavin’s turn, now they all turned tail and ran.
“I hate this shit,” Hayley muttered to herself.
“At least you’re a great hero to them. Pull this off and your metric shall rise ever higher. What am I?” Larissa turned in place, her curled-in-state falling open so she was fully exposed to Hayley. “What am I, Hayseed?”
Used goods. Broken clay. A liar. A whore.
She heard it whispered behind hands, usually fast if Gavin was spotted, but more than that Hayley knew because she existed. Because she’d find the same curses ladled upon others who stumbled in the dark. She thought the same of herself after Finn cornered her in the bathhouse. It was her fault, she went with him. She wore that foul thought like a dark spot chewing through her soul.
It’s not your fault, it’s his.
Shrugging, Hayley turned to gaze out at the rising sun. “A pain in my ass,” she summed up before leaping to her feet.
Surprisingly, Larissa chuckled at that. “You are a greater one in mine, I assure you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hayley stretched her neck and shook her fingers. They spent the whole night on their feet rushing to every corner of the city. Minds were slow, bodies were weary, but it was a new day and there was no chance of rest. “Let’s get to the market place. We can blend in with the early risers and hopefully pick up the last of what we need.”
“How long do we have until the judgment starts?” Larissa tried to shoot a hole in Hayley’s last-ditch effort, but she stood on her feet and followed behind.
The King said until mid-morning. The sun was already beginning its rise, savoring in the longest day of the year. They didn’t have much time to get a lot of coin off of usually middle to poor people. Clapping her hands, Hayley said, “Enough,” and took off towards her last chance to save Gavin.
As she feared, the early morning marketplace was slim pickings. Made up mostly of the servants sent to fetch fresh food or flowers for their master’s tables, Hayley was picking up coppers and buttons instead of full groats. While the people on the streets began to increase, Hayley’s anxiety shot higher as well. Time was ticking fast, and they still had to get back to Benedict’s place, and then cart his ass to the Magistrate’s.
Forgetting all she knew, Hayley sidled up next to a man bearing a crest of the city. He was protected, he was important. No doubt if he lost as much as a hairpin he could have the entire city guard hunting for it. This was idiotic, suicide really. If she failed, she’d wind up hanging next to Gavin.
Focus. You belong here. You’re a fancy squire with a shiny sword at your hip. The man’s eyes slid over to her as she browsed through a pile of salad greens. Normally, that’d be when Hayley would vanish into the crowd, but she turned and smiled brightly at him. Before, they’d have scowled at the wretch in their midst, mark and merchant. But both returned the grin, the man, in particular, drifting much closer to Hayley. His hand reached across her chest, almost as if he needed to inspect the rutabagas that instant and plum didn’t notice her budding breasts in the way.
Hayley grabbed the wrist and held it tight. His body tried to tug away, but Hayley had him good. The greying man who could pass for her grandfather began to panic, wrenching his arm in a loud show to try and get free.
With a slow turn of her head, Hayley eyed up the man about to spray spittle at her. “Sir, I believe you misplaced this,” she said sweetly and opened her fingers.
All the eyes in the marketplace were on the man caught trying to feel up a teenager. He gulped thrice, his face redder than the radishes, and he spun away from Hayley. With barely a flick of her wrist, she lobbed off his purse as the man began to stomp away in disgrace. No chance he’d point to her. No chance he’d drag the squire, whose budding bulwarks he tried to siege, before a guard.
This whole going legitimate thing was a real boon for business. With hefty purse in hand, Hayley began to slip off to find Larissa when a cacophony of bells rattled from the three steeples ringing the pavilion. She shut her eyes tight, counting each toll. When it passed seven, Hayley gulped. At eight, she was already running. When the ninth went off, her body froze.
Please, not another. Not ten. If it was already ten then there was no hope.
Only silence erupted after the final ninth ring. Thank you, Lord. There was still time.
“Nine O’Clock?” Larissa appeared from a further fruit stand, strawberries in hand. She nibbled on their makeshift breakfast while talking. “We’re out of time.”
“I just got it.” Hayley thrust out the entire pouch now bulging with enough coin to bash in Benedict’s brains.
“Then let’s go.” She began to jerk her head towards the fraudulent friar’s refuge, but Hayley paused.
The King would arrive in an hour. No, he’d be seated, expect someone there. Demand it. Hayley dropped her pouch of ill-gotten gains into Larissa’s hands. She was so shocked, it nearly tumbled to the dirt, the clink of that much coin drawing a few eyes. “What are you…?”
“Take it to Benedict, get him to the Magistrate’s office. However you have to.”
“What? Why me? What are you going to do?”
Hayley’s weary body gulped down a third wind as it took off running. “Gonna try to stall it,” she shouted to Larissa while turning towards the main thoroughfare. If she had a horse this would be so much faster. If Larissa had a horse…
Would she think to steal one? Though, Larissa couldn’t steal a fever from a dying man. If she tried, she’d just wind up in chains. Focus Hayley, next right. Her saber rattled at her side, the scabbard banging into her hip after the long night it spent locked away inside. It didn’t take kindly to all this running back and forth.
An entire stitch ran from the top of her collarbone down to her hip enflaming her right side, but Hayley ignored it. She shook off the burning in her thigh and didn’t even bother to check if it was blood or spilled mead where her wound was. There wasn’t time. Somehow she had to stall this trial. Because King’s just loved being held up. What to do? What would work?
Twisting through a garden, a spray of white sheets whipped about in the wind. They splattered against her back, trying to wash away the grime of her long night. She fought them
off, baring her fists in anger at each new threat before emerging onto the new path. Wait. An idea struck and Hayley twisted back quick to yank a shirt free from the lines.
A crowd already stood outside the office trying to bustle their way in before his majesty or to get as close to the action as possible. No doubt the fervor of the case already swept through the populace. A beloved knight, a powerful merchant, and a possible secret elopement. It had all the markings of owning the gossip rounds for a year.
“Hey! Coming through!” Hayley shouted, her thin hips swinging through the crowds as she clung tight to the shirt. While her bones couldn’t do much, the scabbard certainly helped to clear a path, people shouting and clutching at their whacked legs before they noticed her livery. Doubtful they knew she was Gavin’s squire, or even that it was Gavin on trial, but they caught on to the knight part.
Leaving the masses filing into the balconies to watch the potential destruction of a good man, Hayley twisted to the bad door. Its creak sounded of a dying man’s soul escaping the body. The wood was stained red from the bloody tears wept against it. An iron cage of bars provided a small glimpse inside but no one dared look, because no one not mad would wish to enter.
Hayley yanked on the iron ring and the door gave without thought. There were no locks and no one to stop her as she ran down the slope to find a trio of armed guards in full plate standing next to her knight. “Ser!” Hayley called and, as one, every guard snapped into place. Her body froze to a treacle, watching the armed men the way one does a snake snapping its tails in the leaves.
Another night had not been kind to Gavin, the bruises inflicted earlier growing a putrid green against his brown flesh. But he lifted his weary brow and tried to smile. “My squire.”
