A Mutiny of Marauders

by Daniel Coleman

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  Tru huddled in torch shadows between two buildings. As long as he didn’t move, he was pretty good at being just another piece of the night. He should be good at it, since he’d been doing it his whole life, all nine-and-a-half years.

  Coquí frogs chirped in the background, lending a sense of realness to the moonless night. For a harmless Thief like Tru, deep darkness meant opportunity, especially on the Cold side of the island. But when the moon went away, the Druids didn’t drum. The night always felt rickety without their steady beats, like he was walking on ground with nothing under it.

  The new moon, or no moon, as Tru thought of it, brought a steady stream of people into the streets. It was the only night the city market stayed open past dark. Druids even came down from the mountains to trade with the people of Ponce. The best part of market night: most people out weren’t Jennies, just simple merchants and citizens out to trade with each other and the visiting Druids.

  The hiding place where Tru waited and watched was a few blocks from the market, which was held in the plaza of the inner city of Ponce. This far away, the perfect trickle of people walked through the lamp-lit street. Enough to give him options, but not so many that he couldn’t avoid witnesses. When he couldn’t get shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, like the market itself with all of the jostling and bouncing people, he preferred some space to work.

  It was a break from his usual night routine of waiting outside taverns for men who came out stumbling more than walking. Or women. When it came to surviving, Tru couldn’t afford to be picky about the source of coins. Women were always more trusting of a boy who showed up to help them along. Once a chubby blonde lady even called him a ‘Knight in shining armor’. The mils he lifted plus the two she gave him for escorting her meant two more days alive. That much closer to another birthday.

  The creaking of large wheels, louder than a millstone in the stillness, shook the night as a group of Druids hauled goods toward the market. Four large wagons, each pulled by two slow horses, were circled by Druids. Men and women, all dressed differently. A lot of them wore robes of different colors and style. Some of them wore very little, just small cloths like a diaper around their lower parts and strips of leather or cloth around the upper parts for the women. And sandals. They all wore sandals.

  Their robes, hair, and even bodies were decorated with bright feathers, flowers, and weaved grasses. Many of them carried staffs, intricately carved, curved, twisted, and decorated like their bodies with the addition of grasses, colorful stones, bones, teeth, and tusks. A few carried blowguns instead of staffs. Liam, Tru’s den boss, once told him the blowguns were as deadly as a Ranger’s gun.

  Tru stopped breathing, and sunk deeper into the shadows. It wasn’t magic like what Jennies could do, but for a kid Thief he had passable disappearing skills.

  A huge man with yellow hair walked at the front of the group, a golden mustache hanging down past his chin. Red and white painted symbols covered the rest of his face. The cloak he wore was shorter than a lot of them, and open in the front to show off his bare chest, also painted with white and red symbols. Just as he drew even with Tru, he stopped and peered past Tru’s shield of darkness. The word behemoth came to mind. Tru wasn’t sure where he’d heard it and didn’t even know exactly what it meant.

  Behind the big man, the wagons groaned and stopped.

  Tru’s chest began to burn and his head tingled with pressure. He let out his breath and gasped air, as artless as if it was his first day in the Thieves Guild. Good thing Liam couldn’t see him acting like such a piker.

  “Night can be a dangerous time, yngling.” His sing-songy voice pitched up and down, like he was asking a question with every other word.

  Tru didn’t trust him, and not just because the Druid was an adult. “Ing-what?” Tru muttered, half to himself.

  “It’s okay, yah?” The pale man motioned Tru into the street, and he was too scared to refuse.

  Where were the drums to make the night comfortable? Tru knew more about the different Castes on Hollow Island than most people, but Druids were a mystery to everyone. No one knew if they were Jennies or as unmodified as Tru himself, but he was pretty sure they had magic that was unlike any other Caste. Even though there weren’t supposed to be any dangerous Jennies here on the Cold side of the island, the knowledge didn’t make Tru feel any better.

  “I’m just going to the market,” he said, reluctantly releasing his grasp of the shadows.

  Liam’s words repeated in his head: When running is too suspicious, walk toward a crowd.

  “We walk together, then,” said the behemoth. As soon as he moved, the horses followed, and the wagons. The big man strolled casually, seeming to take in every detail of the night and the city.

  Tru walked along, maintaining a safe distance. As far as he knew, the Druids lived in huts, so why did the giant seem so comfortable in the big city? Of course, there was no way to know what kind of cities any of the Druids lived in before coming to Hollow Island.

  Watching for an excuse to get away from the group, Tru looked over the rest of the tribe and saw some men with skin as dark as coal and others as pale as the leader. Every color in between, too. The man leading the second wagon had light brown skin the same shade as Tru, but the man’s hair and round eyes were dark. Tru’s hair matched his skin and his light brown eyes were shaped like sideways tears.

  The first two wagons were piled high with all sorts of crafts: drums, staffs, bows and wooden tools. Bananas, papayas, and other fruits filled the third wagon. The final wagon was covered with thick canvas. Liam had told him the Druids sold magic stuff at the market.

  Tru didn’t believe in magic things, just magic people.

  The sound of coins jingling in a pouch at the large man’s belt caught Tru’s attention and brought him closer, and he noticed there was no drawstring. Who would’ve thought his easiest mark in weeks would be a tribesman? With another exaggerated turn to examine the rest of the convoy, Tru tripped on a nonexistent something and stumbled into the Druid. The loose pouch made a wide target and his fingers closed on a large coin as he staggered back to a walk, clinging to the Druid’s arm to draw attention away from his other hand.

  By the time Tru was steady on his feet, the coin was tucked safely inside the hidden pocket of his long sleeve.

  “Sorry,” he told the giant. “I tripped.”

  It was a simple trick, but these were simple people. The man kept walking, as ignorant as the horses that pulled his wagons. Tru had no idea what Druids did when they caught people stealing, but he wouldn’t find out tonight. That knowledge along with the weight of the coin, surely a kilo, was enough to bring a smile to his face. That was more than he made in some months!

  “What’s your name?” the man asked, still putting emphasis on the wrong parts of the sentence.

  “Tru.”

  “I am Rune. How old are you?”

  The answer was usually eleven, sometimes twelve, but Rune didn’t act like he was going to try to be Tru’s dad or something. As Liam said, Always tell the truth, unless there’s something to gain. “I’m nine and a half.”

  Rune smiled. As if half a year didn’t count for anything. Tru had survived six months to earn that half, and he claimed it every time.

  “Where is your pappa?” His accent was so interesting Tru almost forgot to lie. But the question was too personal.

  “At home. My parents have to wake up early so they send me to the market when the moon’s gone.” Everybody always overreacted when they found out he had no parents. “Why do Druids drum?” Tru asked, changing the subject away from himself.

  “We drum to honor the moon.”

  “So that’s why the drums are so much louder when the moon’s full?”

  Rune nodded.

  “What’s so great about the moon?”

  A booming laugh made Tru jump and scan for an escape route, but the Druid continued his unhurried pace. “We honor the moon because she shares her light, gosse. All the light sh
e receives from the sun is reflected back to us as a gift, yah? She keeps none for herself; she has no need.”

  “Why don’t you honor the sun too?”

  “We honor the sun during the day.”

  “I never hear drums in the daytime.”

  “There are many ways to honor the sun. We plant crops for him to nourish, raise animals to increase the life within his realm, and make ourselves beautiful for him to look upon us.”

  Why would the sun want to look at anybody, beautiful or not?

  Outside the market gates, Rune stopped, lowered his eyebrows, and looked down at Tru. “Please may I have my coin back?” The other Druids closed in as they brought the wagons to a stop.

  Tru was cooked. Even if he could duck out of Rune’s reach, there were too many Druids to avoid them all and even more witnesses to see him run. The crowds around the market would never help Tru; most people were too intimidated by Druids to do anything. Rune made no move toward him, just held out one hand and smiled. On the few occasions Tru had been caught, everyone always grabbed and threatened before demanding he return the takings, but Rune still wore a kind look.

  Ready to run at the slightest threat, Tru showed the kilo then flicked it onto Rune’s palm. To his surprise, Rune didn’t grab at his wrist. Tru took a step back anyway. He hated to lose the big coin, but what other choice did he have?

  With the kilo between his finger and thumb, Rune motioned with it to the sky, then did the same toward the ground and said something under his breath. With an open palm he offered it back to Tru and said, “A gift.”

  Kind-looking or not, it had to be a trap. But the coin was a kilo. He could buy a miniature with that and still have enough for a week’s worth of food. If Rune actually let him have it.

  Was he waiting for Tru to take the coin so he could publicly accuse him? If that was the goal, why didn’t he already do that? Instinct told Tru to stay away, but the lure of the kilo was too great.

  He snatched it and took two steps back. The big coin along with the kindness of the Druid gave him a deeply suspicious feeling. People just didn’t act like that, and Tru couldn’t understand why.

  Rune said something in a language Tru didn’t understand then turned and led his tribesmen into the market without giving Tru a chance to ask what all of that meant.

  He considered going back to his hovel; the experience had left him in no condition to keep working. But the Thieves Guild had assigned him a shift in the market, and if he didn’t show up, he’d be shut out for three months. After a moment to right his mind, he followed the Druids into the market, but went the opposite direction.

  The market was the ripest part of the city, but also one of the riskiest places to work alone. For every purse there are two eyes, but not the ones you expect. That’s what Liam said every time they worked the market together.

  For an hour he wandered the market without picking any purses. His mind was somewhere else, and if details started slipping he’d be in trouble. An hour was enough time to be seen in case any Guild representatives were watching, but hanging around the market wasn’t smart if he wasn’t working. A familiar face foils filching. Another one of Liam’s saying. He kept his face down and made his way back to the market gates.

  With a kilo in his pocket, it had been a hugely successful night. Tru didn’t need to keep working, but something kept him close by. The huge Druid intrigued him, even though already being caught was just one more reason to leave. He should run home and hide the coin, but falling asleep while it was still dark was as out of place as eating oatmeal for dinner. He’d just toss and turn until sunrise.

  Ignoring the warning voice in his head, Tru settled into a nook half a block away from the market to people watch. Not working. Studying. The ability to pick up on details was the reason he’d survived so long on his own.

  There was no particular reason he chose the same street he’d walked up with the Druids. Only a piker would do something so stupid. Mere coincidence led him to the spot. He left the coin in the pocket against his forearm and took the favorite miniature of his favorite Jennie, a Titan, out of another pocket and rolled it in his fingers.

  Titans had skin like a rhinoceros and people said they were as strong as gorillas. Stronger maybe. He had always wanted to talk to one, but was afraid they’d trample right over him, either by accident or on purpose. They were the toughest things on the Cold side of Hollow Island, and Tru had no idea what kind of classification system put them as Level 1. They were big and strong, and as far as Tru was concerned, that made them dangerous, if they wanted to be. Still, when he turned eighteen he’d probably choose to become a Titan. And he wouldn’t ignore little kids.

  Keeping his eye out for the huge, grey Titans, Tru studied the people who passed. The majority were women in plain blouses and men in plain tunics. Some of the women wore pants, some wore skirts or long dresses. Hundreds walked by, and for the most part only fancy men or people trying to look dangerous wore jackets. Even in winter it never got cold enough for coats, and the weather on spring nights like this was perfect. The only reason Tru’s long sleeves didn’t draw attention was his age. Adults always wanted to bundle kids up.

  They want to play make-believe for real. That’s what Liam told him when he asked why so many people came to live on Hollow Island. It’s boring outside. They want a new, exciting life. Tru wanted nothing of their exciting, fantastic lives, but like the rest of the kids born on Hollow Island, he didn’t have a choice until he grew up.

  Four Gypsies walked by, wrapped in bright, thin fabrics. If they were going to wear something so see-through, why wear shirts at all? A pair of Ascetics with no shirts and plenty of tattoos passed in the opposite direction without even noticing the Gypsies. Then came half a dozen people who appeared as normal as Tru. But those ones could be hiding something even more bizarre than the obvious weirdoes.

  Trying to figure out the secrets each person carried was the real challenge. Like the man in plain browns who walked with his wife, grasping her upper arm a little harder than necessary. Putting together the man’s grip and the woman’s look of guilty loathing, he probably caught her kissing another man or something.

  An hour before sunrise, Tru noticed the Druids leaving the market. Tru was both relieved and anxious to see Rune in the lead again. Their wagons were full, but with different objects than before: sacks of grain, crafting supplies, metal tool parts.

  Tru made himself more obvious, scooting to the edge of shadow where light only brushed his clothing when the torch lamps flickered just right.

  “Just getting ready to run if I have to,” he said quietly to calm the urge to flee.

  When Rune got close, he gestured and Tru hurried to his side even though an instinct to get away screamed inside his head. They walked a block or two in silence.

  Tru tried to force a calm voice. “So what’s the difference?” he asked.

  “What difference, yngling?”

  “Stealing or getting a gift? I still have the coin and you don’t.”

  The stupid Druid laughed loudly again, almost causing Tru to bolt. “Theft is lucre. A gift is sacred.”

  “What’s lucre?”

  “Something you gain by dirty means. Killing, or thieving, or threat. I gave you the coin as a gift. It is sacred now.”

  “How can a piece of metal be sacred?” Tru kept the silver coin hidden, afraid Rune would want it back if he saw it.

  “It is not the metal; it is the gift. Just as the moonlight is sacred. A gift from our sister, the moon. Or the crops that come from our brother the Earth. This air…” He took in a vast breath. “Anything we have or do can be sacred if we do it in the proper spirit.”

  Quick as a snake, Rune lunged at Tru and picked him up. One huge arm wrapped Tru’s chest and arms, and the other clenched his neck, tighter than necessary. The few people in the streets ignored them and Tru couldn’t blame them. Rune was the size of a mountain.

  Tru cursed himself for ignoring the warnings in
his head. Liam would kick him out of the den if he found out how stupid he’d been and the Thieves Guild might strip his apprenticeship. If he survived.

  In a whisper, Rune said, “Even killing a child Thief can be sacred.” His muscular arm flexed, forcing Tru’s ribs to crush his guts while the other hand squeezed his throat. Suddenly the lilting accent wasn’t nearly as interesting.

  Tru didn’t want to die. Not after surviving nine and a half years. He forced out a single word, “Why?”

  “I would consecrate it to the land, to the laws of nature that state a man, or boy, must reap what he sows. I would kill the Thief in honor of all people who live by the laws of nature. All the while I would be enforcing the laws of nature by helping the Thief reap the reward he has sown.”

  Tru’s breath was failing him. The people in the street were failing him. His instincts hadn’t failed him, but he’d been too stupid to listen.

  Rune’s tribe trailed along as if their leader held a lizard by the neck instead of a boy.

  Unable to apologize or plead for his life, Tru didn’t even have breath enough to struggle or kick. As if it would do any good. Tiny black circles closed in around his vision and started turning red.

  Inexplicably, Tru found himself on his hands and knees in the street, blinking to make sense of the night.

  The first thing his woozy eyes saw was a Ranger coming around a corner. Finally someone had come to his rescue. But Rune had put him down before the Ranger appeared. Did Rune somehow know the Ranger was coming or did he not really plan to kill Tru at all?

  The Ranger had dark skin, black braids of hair, and her clothing was like armor made out of different colors of overlapping leather. Her left eye, the metal one, settled on a few of the Druids’ faces, lingering on each for a few seconds.

  “You okay, boy?” she asked in a thick accent without looking at Tru.

  Tru didn’t know what to say. The Ranger could probably kill all the Druids with the big gun on her hip, but what if she just arrested or warned them? And even if she started shooting, all Rune had to do was step forward and squash Tru and it wouldn’t matter which adult won the fight.