Brotherhood
05-10-2013, 11:34 AM
Hi, this is the beginning part of a story i'm writing
I'd like some constructive criticism
/Thank you very much
PROLOGUE
Londrago Callan trailed behind the Silver Gauntlet legionnaire in front of him, trying his best to avoid making noise. He glanced back and saw Snapjaw’s figure on a nearby roof, backlit by the moon. He gave Londrago a thumbs up. Londrago snuck slowly but surely up to the torch-wielding legionnaire, readying a note in his hand.
A drunk came out of a tavern some fifty metres down the street, wobbling and bobbing. Londrago hid behind a pile of boxes, heart thumping. He could not afford to get caught. He peeked out. The Silver Gauntlet had approached the drunk, reprimanding him for falling into such a drunken stupor. Londrago almost giggled. Just like a Silver Gauntlet. Well, they were about to realise that they couldn’t just come into this city and do as they wished, simply because an emperor on some throne had told them to. The Silver Gauntlet sent the drunk away ”with a warning”, and continued his patrolling.
Londrago slipped out of cover. He quickly made up lost ground, and was soon only arms-length away. He could even hear the legionnaire’s breathing, muffled through his helmet. Londrago reached out with the glued up note in his hand. He applied it to the back of the man’s shiny breastplate, delicately as to not alert him. The note read: I’m a silver piggy, oink oink. First part completed. Next, Londrago reached for the coin purse hanging from the Silver Gauntlet’s belt. He gripped it, and-
The legionnaire turned, revealing a grim face. He took Londrago’s tattered shirt in his hand. ”Thief! Do you know who I am? I am of the Silver Gauntlet, legion sanctified by emperor Gian himself!” Londrago noticed that the man’s armour didn’t cover his loins. He kicked with all his force. This effectively loosened the grip on his clothes and sent the legionnaire slowly sinking to the paving with a whimper. Londrago did not linger. He took off down the road, back toward Snapjaw.
The legionnaire called out for help, sound echoing far. ****! I messed up! I messed up bad! Snapjaw started running parallel to him, jumping from roof to roof. Londrago ran as fast as his spindly legs would allow. Several shouts from behind meant that more Silver Gauntlets had arrived. He took a quick glance back, and saw four legionnaires on pursuit. Despite their clunky armour, they were gaining on him. They were trained for this kind of thing, after all. Snapjaw stepped off a roof, grabbing windowsills as he made his way down. He walked out into the middle of the street.
”What are you doing?” Londrago asked. ”We need to get away!” Snapjaw looked back, pulled down his mask, revealing a sharp-teethed grin plastered on his reptilian visage. ”Don’t worry, cub.” he said. ”I need some practice anyway.” As the legionnaires surrounded him, he pulled two shortswords. Londrago didn’t know whether to help him or run. He did none, instead standing paralysed a ways away.
The Silver Gauntlets moved like one, closing in on Snapjaw. One attempted a strike against his back with a longsword, but Snapjaw ducked and spun, knocking the legs away from under the attacker. Two others slashed wildly. Snapjaw did a backwards roll, successfully dodging both swords.
He got to his feet, launching a feign slash that turned into a stab midway, severing one’s throat. He went down–gurgling–with hands around his neck. He parried a blow with his sword, then stabbed another Silver Gauntlet in the foot. He screamed and fell over, blood spewing from the hole in his boot. The last one had fright plastered on his face, but stood strong.
”The Silver Gauntlet shall not be defeated by such-”He was cut off as Snapjaw charged. Snapjaw slashed with both swords, held like scissors. The legionnaire didn’t have the time to block. His head flew through the air, bouncing a ways on the ground toward Londrago with the clunking of his conical helmet. Snapjaw cleaned the blood off his swords with a legionnaire’s pants and jogged to Londrago. The one with a sore groin had disappeared somewhere, probably to get more reinforcements. The wounded one shouted and screamed unstoppably. ”I-I’ve never seen anything like that.” Londrago sputtered. ”You haven’t seen many Foxes in action then.” Snapjaw chuckled.
”Come on, Cub, let’s get back before the piggies figure out which way is up. We’ll discuss your... mishap when we get back.” They ran back the way they had come, sticking to side streets to avoid any Silver Gauntlets out to get them. Londrago didn’t know what would happen when they came back. He had failed his initiation into the Brotherhood of The Fox. It wouldn’t be good, that was for sure. They reached an old, rickety storage shed. An entrance to the near endless tunnels that ran beneath Tumba, built by the Brotherhood more than fifty years ago.
After looking both ways in the narrow street, they entered into the dark interior. Snapjaw got an unlit torch from a pile under a rug, and lighted it with a steel and flint after a few strikes. Londrago lifted up a section of the flooring, placing it next to him. The musky smell of dirt mingled with his nose. A dark hole with a ladder lay under the floor. Snapjaw climbed down first, torch revealing more and more as he climbed further down. Londrago came after, taking the steps two at a time.
He didn’t exactly know the way through these narrow, winding tunnels; he trusted Snapjaw to lead him right. It seemed like they walked around down there for hours on hours, but finally Snapjaw led them to a similar ladder they had encountered before. They climbed up, and emerged into a familiar place.
The Den. His home. It had once been a large tavern, now repurposed to fit the thieving band. A couple of Foxes perked up from drink or maintaining of equipment, looking inquisitive. Snapjaw shook his head. He turned to Londrago. ”You ought to get some sleep, Cub. You’ll talk this over with your father in the morning.” The word ”Cub” stung his ears. If he had succeeded in placing the note and picking the Silver Gauntlet’s pocket without detection, he would have been a Fox now. But he hadn’t. And he Wasn’t. He trudged up the staircase leading to the sleeping quarters, feeling the others’ judging eyes on his back.
Chapturru Compurretoh! –///–
CHAPTER I
Cubs and Foxes
Londrago stepped into his father’s dark room, lit up only by a single candle on his heavy wooden desk. Jahn Callan sat behind it, face shadowed. The door slammed shut behind Londrago, possessed by a will of its own. Jahn signed for him to sit. He did as commanded without thought.
”Son.” Jahn’s voice was unnaturally amplified. ”You have displeased me. You have failed me. I gave you this task, and you did not manage.” As he spoke, his face grew ever grimmer, and his eyes glowed like red hot coals. ”You are not worthy the title of Fox, nor are you worthy of the title Cub. I hereby expel you from The Brotherhood Of The Fox.”
A pit opened under Londrago’s chair, and he fell. He screamed and screamed.
And screamed. He sprung up in the bed, panting. His sheets were damp with sweat. Morning light filled the room, entering from the window to his right. He wiped his brow. None of the other three boys in the room had awoken from the noise. Snapjaw peeked in through the door.
”You alright in there, Cub? I was just coming to wake ya up. Your father’ll have you as soon as you’re ready.” Londrago nodded. A knot formed in his stomach. Snapjaw removed himself to wait outside. Londrago threw his blanket aside and stood. He cracked his neck. It had grown stiff from his hard pillow. He picked out a pale green shirt and a pair of leather pants from his drawer of clothes. He absentmindedly did the wooden buttons and stomped into his long-shafted boots.
He stepped out into the hall, facing Snapjaw. He had never understood Mycelian fashion. Today, Snapjaw wore a black coat, collar that extended beyond his mouth. He had no shoes on–then again, Mycelians never did. They walked–Snapjaw first–his chubby tail whipping about behind him. They passed many rooms in the hall, before they finally reached the one at the end of it. The knot grew hard as rocks in Londrago. Snapjaw knocked on the door, poked his head in.
He pulled it back out, nodded to Londrago. It was oaky to go in. Londrago took a deep breath, and stepped in. His father sat by his desk, his face lit by the morning sun. ”Good morning, dear boy. Oh, but you look terrible. Did you catch something from Dodger? You never know where he coulda been.” Londrago hesitated. ”No. No, I’m fine. Look, father, I know I mucked up the initiation, but if you would give me another-”
”Yes, yes. We’ll arrange another initiation soon enough, don’t worry. Though it must be said, your practical talents are somewhat... limited. That is why I arranged for you to start going on tasks with other Foxes, you know like Tanton does sometimes.” The knot dissolved into nothing. This was not exactly the scolding he had expected. ”I planned for you to follow Bushy around today, y’know, get some actual experience. Just stay out of her way and watch, and you’ll be fine.”
”All right. I’ll go find her.” Jahn nodded, his head already buried deep in ledgers and notes.
Bushy bought an apple from a stand, though she hissed when she heard the price. Londrago struggled to keep step as she slunk through the crowded marketplace. ”What’s the point of being a thief if you don’t steal anything?” he asked. She turned around and pulled him close. She pulled open her small bag. At least ten big apples lay there. Londrago giggled. He hadn’t even seen her take them.
Bushy was very pretty. Billowing, black hair. Large, brown eyes. A behind that admittedly drew his eye. If he had been a better thief, he would have stolen a kiss from her. Then again, he had seen her break a man’s jaw over less. Bushy pointed at something. He followed her finger, and his gaze landed on a boy much younger than him, maybe thirteen. Londrago didn’t see anything remarkable about him. Bushy rolled her eyes. ”That’s Little Wally!” Londrago shook his head. No bell. ”He was a Cub. He’s trying to worm his way out of the Brotherhood.”
”So what? Why don’t we just let him?” She sighed. ”Becaaaause, it poses a risk. He knows too much about us. With The Silver Gauntlet sniffing our tails, we can’t afford that kind of thing.” Londrago nodded. ”Makes sense. Do we catch him?”
”Not now. We follow him, and wait until we have him someplace he can’t run away.”
”It’ll be fun.” she said with a hint of a wicked smile. She took a bite from her apple. They pushed through the crowd, looking inconspicuous. Wally turned into a side street. They waited a few seconds, then followed suit. They made sure to keep a healthy distance between them and him. They followed him past run down shacks, past beggars and sickly lowlifes. He took into an alley. Excellent. Only one way out.
They stepped in, blocking the exit. Wally was digging through some trash, looking for a scrap of food or an unwanted blanket. A fool’s errand. Bushy whistled to get his attention. He snapped around. A flash of recognition went over his face. Bushy smiled. She rolled on his heels, thumbs in her belt. ”Hey there, Wally. Whatchu up to?” Wally glanced back, at the solid brick wall. He couldn’t escape. Bushy took a last mouthful of her apple and threw the core away. Wally didn’t say anything. He looked down on his feet.
”Well? How about you come back to the Brotherhood? Whatever we did to mistreat ya, it’s gotta beat bumming it on the street, no?” Wally made a run for it, trying to slip between them. Bushy caught him by the belt as he passed. ”Hang on, hang on, hang on! Won’t you come back with us? We’d be awfully happy to have you back.” Wally was frightened, that much was certain. ”I... I can’t go back with you. The Silver Gauntlet’ll catch all o’ the Brotherhood, and then hang ’em in the square for all to watch!”
Bushy grinned. ”And what do you think they do to the homeless? Most of the time they gut them in the street.” She made a slicing motion over Londrago’s belly with her free hand. A stretch of the imagination perhaps, not even the Silver Gauntlets were that heartless. ”Being hanged is the only sensible death for a thief. And trust me, you are a thief.” This made him even more pale-faced. She changed approach. She tugged at his belt, pulling him closer. She put on a sultry voice. ”If you come back to me... I’ll give you a kiss...” she said as she plumped her lips and tugged at his belt. Wally went red as wine.
”Uhm... Well... So, you’ll really give me a kiss?”
”On the cheek.”
”On the mouth.”
She snorted. ”One on each cheek. Final offer.”
”All right.”
Bushy released her hold on the boy. She spat in her hand and reached it out. Not a very ladylike one, Bushy was. Hesitantly, Wally took it. She wiped the spittle on her leg.
”It’s a deal then.” She clasped his head in both hands and kissed his cheek. ”One more if i see you back at the Den tonight.”
Wally nodded, face ablaze. ”Now off with you!” she said, sending him off with a slap on his behind. He scurried off, presumably back to the Den. That had likely been Wally’s first kiss. Londrago felt a bit jealous. Just a bit.
”Well,” she said. ”That’s that.” She leered at him. ”There’s just one more thing before I let you go.”
”Yeah?”
A smile parted her face. ”I need you to win me a bit of money. Dice.”
Londrago frowned. ”How?”
”Your father says you have luck on your side. Snapjaw always says the same. Figured I should capitalise on that.”
”I think they might be overstating that.”
”Oh don’t be so boring! Besides, you’re almost seventeen. You’re gonna have to learn to gamble sometime.”
”I mean... Sure, why not?”
”Exactly. We scramble if we see any piggies though.”
Time seemed to mash into a sludge around Londrago. He threw the dice, knowing where they’d land, knowing how they’d spin. They sailed through the air and hit the table with twin thumps. Time accelerated again. The rumble of the crowd came back. The dice tumbled a while, then came up with double-sixes. Bushy laughed and hit him on the back. His gambling partner, Dalton, whose long black hair hung like curtains, growled and hit the table.
”I believe that’s a win.” Londrago said smugly. He reached over for the three copper Dews. Dalton slammed his knife into the table, sending coins and dices flying. ”You’re a cheater!” he lisped through his broken row of teeth.
”Only a cheater gets three double sixes in a row!”
Some of the men in the serving room murmured in agreement. ”You know what I think?” Dalton spun on. ”I think you’re a mage. I think you used magic win.”
The noise quieted down, all grew still. Bushy had her hands buried in the arms of her cloak, no doubt reaching for her blades. ”I assure you, no sorcery was involved in this. I-”
”A liar, as well as a cheater? You mages are something else, aren’t you?”
Slowly, Dalton pulled his knife form the table.
”Repay what you stole, or repay it with your blood.”
Bushy leaned down, her hands on the table. ”I’ll defend his honour. You’ll duel me.”
”I don’t fight women.”
”You’ll fight me, or no one at all.”
”Oh yeah?”
”Yeah. Let’s take this outside.”
”Fair enough, mage-lover. But know that if you lose, you die.”
Bushy grunted in agreement.
Dalton got up. The crowd parted as he and Bushy made for the door, then followed out on the street. Londrago tried to keep up as well. He pushed his way through spectators and got to the front of the ring that congregated around Bushy and Dalton.
”Come on, Bushy, you don’t have to do this!” Londrago called.
”I needed this anyway, I’m out of practice.” Bushy replied as she stretched to soften her muscles. Londrago could not help but pull his lips, in spite of himself.
”That’s Snapjaw who says that.”
Bushy returned his smile with the mischievous grin of a fox.
”Choose your weapon, wench!” Dalton bellowed. ”I fight with a blade.” he continued as he pulled a stained sword from its leather protector. Bushy stood from a quite scandalous pose and pulled out her grin. ”Daggers.” She pulled the pair of them out from he boots. Long, slender things with edges sharp enough to cut the hair off a pig. She held them in an awkward grip, points facing the ground.
”Truly the weapons of a woman!” Dalton laughed. Some of the spectators tuned in at the sight of her weapons of choice.
Bushy kept her cool. Dalton had one of his peers count down from three. Londrago’s stomach sunk with each dwindling number. When Dalton’s friend hit zero, Bushy and Dalton started circling each other, like they were involved in a very pointy and unpleasant dance. Dalton had a slight stumble to his step. Impressive, considering how much drink he had had.
I'd like some constructive criticism
/Thank you very much
PROLOGUE
Londrago Callan trailed behind the Silver Gauntlet legionnaire in front of him, trying his best to avoid making noise. He glanced back and saw Snapjaw’s figure on a nearby roof, backlit by the moon. He gave Londrago a thumbs up. Londrago snuck slowly but surely up to the torch-wielding legionnaire, readying a note in his hand.
A drunk came out of a tavern some fifty metres down the street, wobbling and bobbing. Londrago hid behind a pile of boxes, heart thumping. He could not afford to get caught. He peeked out. The Silver Gauntlet had approached the drunk, reprimanding him for falling into such a drunken stupor. Londrago almost giggled. Just like a Silver Gauntlet. Well, they were about to realise that they couldn’t just come into this city and do as they wished, simply because an emperor on some throne had told them to. The Silver Gauntlet sent the drunk away ”with a warning”, and continued his patrolling.
Londrago slipped out of cover. He quickly made up lost ground, and was soon only arms-length away. He could even hear the legionnaire’s breathing, muffled through his helmet. Londrago reached out with the glued up note in his hand. He applied it to the back of the man’s shiny breastplate, delicately as to not alert him. The note read: I’m a silver piggy, oink oink. First part completed. Next, Londrago reached for the coin purse hanging from the Silver Gauntlet’s belt. He gripped it, and-
The legionnaire turned, revealing a grim face. He took Londrago’s tattered shirt in his hand. ”Thief! Do you know who I am? I am of the Silver Gauntlet, legion sanctified by emperor Gian himself!” Londrago noticed that the man’s armour didn’t cover his loins. He kicked with all his force. This effectively loosened the grip on his clothes and sent the legionnaire slowly sinking to the paving with a whimper. Londrago did not linger. He took off down the road, back toward Snapjaw.
The legionnaire called out for help, sound echoing far. ****! I messed up! I messed up bad! Snapjaw started running parallel to him, jumping from roof to roof. Londrago ran as fast as his spindly legs would allow. Several shouts from behind meant that more Silver Gauntlets had arrived. He took a quick glance back, and saw four legionnaires on pursuit. Despite their clunky armour, they were gaining on him. They were trained for this kind of thing, after all. Snapjaw stepped off a roof, grabbing windowsills as he made his way down. He walked out into the middle of the street.
”What are you doing?” Londrago asked. ”We need to get away!” Snapjaw looked back, pulled down his mask, revealing a sharp-teethed grin plastered on his reptilian visage. ”Don’t worry, cub.” he said. ”I need some practice anyway.” As the legionnaires surrounded him, he pulled two shortswords. Londrago didn’t know whether to help him or run. He did none, instead standing paralysed a ways away.
The Silver Gauntlets moved like one, closing in on Snapjaw. One attempted a strike against his back with a longsword, but Snapjaw ducked and spun, knocking the legs away from under the attacker. Two others slashed wildly. Snapjaw did a backwards roll, successfully dodging both swords.
He got to his feet, launching a feign slash that turned into a stab midway, severing one’s throat. He went down–gurgling–with hands around his neck. He parried a blow with his sword, then stabbed another Silver Gauntlet in the foot. He screamed and fell over, blood spewing from the hole in his boot. The last one had fright plastered on his face, but stood strong.
”The Silver Gauntlet shall not be defeated by such-”He was cut off as Snapjaw charged. Snapjaw slashed with both swords, held like scissors. The legionnaire didn’t have the time to block. His head flew through the air, bouncing a ways on the ground toward Londrago with the clunking of his conical helmet. Snapjaw cleaned the blood off his swords with a legionnaire’s pants and jogged to Londrago. The one with a sore groin had disappeared somewhere, probably to get more reinforcements. The wounded one shouted and screamed unstoppably. ”I-I’ve never seen anything like that.” Londrago sputtered. ”You haven’t seen many Foxes in action then.” Snapjaw chuckled.
”Come on, Cub, let’s get back before the piggies figure out which way is up. We’ll discuss your... mishap when we get back.” They ran back the way they had come, sticking to side streets to avoid any Silver Gauntlets out to get them. Londrago didn’t know what would happen when they came back. He had failed his initiation into the Brotherhood of The Fox. It wouldn’t be good, that was for sure. They reached an old, rickety storage shed. An entrance to the near endless tunnels that ran beneath Tumba, built by the Brotherhood more than fifty years ago.
After looking both ways in the narrow street, they entered into the dark interior. Snapjaw got an unlit torch from a pile under a rug, and lighted it with a steel and flint after a few strikes. Londrago lifted up a section of the flooring, placing it next to him. The musky smell of dirt mingled with his nose. A dark hole with a ladder lay under the floor. Snapjaw climbed down first, torch revealing more and more as he climbed further down. Londrago came after, taking the steps two at a time.
He didn’t exactly know the way through these narrow, winding tunnels; he trusted Snapjaw to lead him right. It seemed like they walked around down there for hours on hours, but finally Snapjaw led them to a similar ladder they had encountered before. They climbed up, and emerged into a familiar place.
The Den. His home. It had once been a large tavern, now repurposed to fit the thieving band. A couple of Foxes perked up from drink or maintaining of equipment, looking inquisitive. Snapjaw shook his head. He turned to Londrago. ”You ought to get some sleep, Cub. You’ll talk this over with your father in the morning.” The word ”Cub” stung his ears. If he had succeeded in placing the note and picking the Silver Gauntlet’s pocket without detection, he would have been a Fox now. But he hadn’t. And he Wasn’t. He trudged up the staircase leading to the sleeping quarters, feeling the others’ judging eyes on his back.
Chapturru Compurretoh! –///–
CHAPTER I
Cubs and Foxes
Londrago stepped into his father’s dark room, lit up only by a single candle on his heavy wooden desk. Jahn Callan sat behind it, face shadowed. The door slammed shut behind Londrago, possessed by a will of its own. Jahn signed for him to sit. He did as commanded without thought.
”Son.” Jahn’s voice was unnaturally amplified. ”You have displeased me. You have failed me. I gave you this task, and you did not manage.” As he spoke, his face grew ever grimmer, and his eyes glowed like red hot coals. ”You are not worthy the title of Fox, nor are you worthy of the title Cub. I hereby expel you from The Brotherhood Of The Fox.”
A pit opened under Londrago’s chair, and he fell. He screamed and screamed.
And screamed. He sprung up in the bed, panting. His sheets were damp with sweat. Morning light filled the room, entering from the window to his right. He wiped his brow. None of the other three boys in the room had awoken from the noise. Snapjaw peeked in through the door.
”You alright in there, Cub? I was just coming to wake ya up. Your father’ll have you as soon as you’re ready.” Londrago nodded. A knot formed in his stomach. Snapjaw removed himself to wait outside. Londrago threw his blanket aside and stood. He cracked his neck. It had grown stiff from his hard pillow. He picked out a pale green shirt and a pair of leather pants from his drawer of clothes. He absentmindedly did the wooden buttons and stomped into his long-shafted boots.
He stepped out into the hall, facing Snapjaw. He had never understood Mycelian fashion. Today, Snapjaw wore a black coat, collar that extended beyond his mouth. He had no shoes on–then again, Mycelians never did. They walked–Snapjaw first–his chubby tail whipping about behind him. They passed many rooms in the hall, before they finally reached the one at the end of it. The knot grew hard as rocks in Londrago. Snapjaw knocked on the door, poked his head in.
He pulled it back out, nodded to Londrago. It was oaky to go in. Londrago took a deep breath, and stepped in. His father sat by his desk, his face lit by the morning sun. ”Good morning, dear boy. Oh, but you look terrible. Did you catch something from Dodger? You never know where he coulda been.” Londrago hesitated. ”No. No, I’m fine. Look, father, I know I mucked up the initiation, but if you would give me another-”
”Yes, yes. We’ll arrange another initiation soon enough, don’t worry. Though it must be said, your practical talents are somewhat... limited. That is why I arranged for you to start going on tasks with other Foxes, you know like Tanton does sometimes.” The knot dissolved into nothing. This was not exactly the scolding he had expected. ”I planned for you to follow Bushy around today, y’know, get some actual experience. Just stay out of her way and watch, and you’ll be fine.”
”All right. I’ll go find her.” Jahn nodded, his head already buried deep in ledgers and notes.
Bushy bought an apple from a stand, though she hissed when she heard the price. Londrago struggled to keep step as she slunk through the crowded marketplace. ”What’s the point of being a thief if you don’t steal anything?” he asked. She turned around and pulled him close. She pulled open her small bag. At least ten big apples lay there. Londrago giggled. He hadn’t even seen her take them.
Bushy was very pretty. Billowing, black hair. Large, brown eyes. A behind that admittedly drew his eye. If he had been a better thief, he would have stolen a kiss from her. Then again, he had seen her break a man’s jaw over less. Bushy pointed at something. He followed her finger, and his gaze landed on a boy much younger than him, maybe thirteen. Londrago didn’t see anything remarkable about him. Bushy rolled her eyes. ”That’s Little Wally!” Londrago shook his head. No bell. ”He was a Cub. He’s trying to worm his way out of the Brotherhood.”
”So what? Why don’t we just let him?” She sighed. ”Becaaaause, it poses a risk. He knows too much about us. With The Silver Gauntlet sniffing our tails, we can’t afford that kind of thing.” Londrago nodded. ”Makes sense. Do we catch him?”
”Not now. We follow him, and wait until we have him someplace he can’t run away.”
”It’ll be fun.” she said with a hint of a wicked smile. She took a bite from her apple. They pushed through the crowd, looking inconspicuous. Wally turned into a side street. They waited a few seconds, then followed suit. They made sure to keep a healthy distance between them and him. They followed him past run down shacks, past beggars and sickly lowlifes. He took into an alley. Excellent. Only one way out.
They stepped in, blocking the exit. Wally was digging through some trash, looking for a scrap of food or an unwanted blanket. A fool’s errand. Bushy whistled to get his attention. He snapped around. A flash of recognition went over his face. Bushy smiled. She rolled on his heels, thumbs in her belt. ”Hey there, Wally. Whatchu up to?” Wally glanced back, at the solid brick wall. He couldn’t escape. Bushy took a last mouthful of her apple and threw the core away. Wally didn’t say anything. He looked down on his feet.
”Well? How about you come back to the Brotherhood? Whatever we did to mistreat ya, it’s gotta beat bumming it on the street, no?” Wally made a run for it, trying to slip between them. Bushy caught him by the belt as he passed. ”Hang on, hang on, hang on! Won’t you come back with us? We’d be awfully happy to have you back.” Wally was frightened, that much was certain. ”I... I can’t go back with you. The Silver Gauntlet’ll catch all o’ the Brotherhood, and then hang ’em in the square for all to watch!”
Bushy grinned. ”And what do you think they do to the homeless? Most of the time they gut them in the street.” She made a slicing motion over Londrago’s belly with her free hand. A stretch of the imagination perhaps, not even the Silver Gauntlets were that heartless. ”Being hanged is the only sensible death for a thief. And trust me, you are a thief.” This made him even more pale-faced. She changed approach. She tugged at his belt, pulling him closer. She put on a sultry voice. ”If you come back to me... I’ll give you a kiss...” she said as she plumped her lips and tugged at his belt. Wally went red as wine.
”Uhm... Well... So, you’ll really give me a kiss?”
”On the cheek.”
”On the mouth.”
She snorted. ”One on each cheek. Final offer.”
”All right.”
Bushy released her hold on the boy. She spat in her hand and reached it out. Not a very ladylike one, Bushy was. Hesitantly, Wally took it. She wiped the spittle on her leg.
”It’s a deal then.” She clasped his head in both hands and kissed his cheek. ”One more if i see you back at the Den tonight.”
Wally nodded, face ablaze. ”Now off with you!” she said, sending him off with a slap on his behind. He scurried off, presumably back to the Den. That had likely been Wally’s first kiss. Londrago felt a bit jealous. Just a bit.
”Well,” she said. ”That’s that.” She leered at him. ”There’s just one more thing before I let you go.”
”Yeah?”
A smile parted her face. ”I need you to win me a bit of money. Dice.”
Londrago frowned. ”How?”
”Your father says you have luck on your side. Snapjaw always says the same. Figured I should capitalise on that.”
”I think they might be overstating that.”
”Oh don’t be so boring! Besides, you’re almost seventeen. You’re gonna have to learn to gamble sometime.”
”I mean... Sure, why not?”
”Exactly. We scramble if we see any piggies though.”
Time seemed to mash into a sludge around Londrago. He threw the dice, knowing where they’d land, knowing how they’d spin. They sailed through the air and hit the table with twin thumps. Time accelerated again. The rumble of the crowd came back. The dice tumbled a while, then came up with double-sixes. Bushy laughed and hit him on the back. His gambling partner, Dalton, whose long black hair hung like curtains, growled and hit the table.
”I believe that’s a win.” Londrago said smugly. He reached over for the three copper Dews. Dalton slammed his knife into the table, sending coins and dices flying. ”You’re a cheater!” he lisped through his broken row of teeth.
”Only a cheater gets three double sixes in a row!”
Some of the men in the serving room murmured in agreement. ”You know what I think?” Dalton spun on. ”I think you’re a mage. I think you used magic win.”
The noise quieted down, all grew still. Bushy had her hands buried in the arms of her cloak, no doubt reaching for her blades. ”I assure you, no sorcery was involved in this. I-”
”A liar, as well as a cheater? You mages are something else, aren’t you?”
Slowly, Dalton pulled his knife form the table.
”Repay what you stole, or repay it with your blood.”
Bushy leaned down, her hands on the table. ”I’ll defend his honour. You’ll duel me.”
”I don’t fight women.”
”You’ll fight me, or no one at all.”
”Oh yeah?”
”Yeah. Let’s take this outside.”
”Fair enough, mage-lover. But know that if you lose, you die.”
Bushy grunted in agreement.
Dalton got up. The crowd parted as he and Bushy made for the door, then followed out on the street. Londrago tried to keep up as well. He pushed his way through spectators and got to the front of the ring that congregated around Bushy and Dalton.
”Come on, Bushy, you don’t have to do this!” Londrago called.
”I needed this anyway, I’m out of practice.” Bushy replied as she stretched to soften her muscles. Londrago could not help but pull his lips, in spite of himself.
”That’s Snapjaw who says that.”
Bushy returned his smile with the mischievous grin of a fox.
”Choose your weapon, wench!” Dalton bellowed. ”I fight with a blade.” he continued as he pulled a stained sword from its leather protector. Bushy stood from a quite scandalous pose and pulled out her grin. ”Daggers.” She pulled the pair of them out from he boots. Long, slender things with edges sharp enough to cut the hair off a pig. She held them in an awkward grip, points facing the ground.
”Truly the weapons of a woman!” Dalton laughed. Some of the spectators tuned in at the sight of her weapons of choice.
Bushy kept her cool. Dalton had one of his peers count down from three. Londrago’s stomach sunk with each dwindling number. When Dalton’s friend hit zero, Bushy and Dalton started circling each other, like they were involved in a very pointy and unpleasant dance. Dalton had a slight stumble to his step. Impressive, considering how much drink he had had.