by Alex Linwood
She first lifted a copper from a young man in blue who was preoccupied trying to impress a young woman he fancied. While he was leaning forward to select the best apple, Portia bumped into him while pretending to cough. He backed away in concern from her, fearing her ill, which worked as planned to distract him from her hand digging in his purse. She mumbled an apology under her breath to him and quickly backed away. He glared at her, then slowly turned his attention back to his sweetheart. She repeated this process several times, managing to grab at least one coin each time.
Her luck ran out, however, when she tried to get a copper from a harried matron who had the wrist of a screaming child in each hand. The matron felt her touch and whirled on her, already red-faced from screaming at her children. “What are you all about!” she demanded.
“Nothing. Sorry, ma’am,” Portia said, backing up.
“I saw you, girl! You were digging in her purse,” an apple seller yelled at Portia. “That girl’s a thief! Guards! Guards!”
Portia saw the apple seller pointing at her. She bolted down the aisle between stalls. She could hear the yells of the matron and the apple seller behind her, pointing her out to the guards. She weaved between people, trying to figure out a place to hide. Abruptly, a guard stepped out in front of her—it was the female guard she had noticed before—and Portia veered to the left to avoid her.
Portia ran past behind the butcher’s stall, the guard chasing after her. Portia gained some time by being able to quickly duck between people, leaving the larger guard to have to brute force push through the crowds. Fumbling with her purse, Portia dropped a few coins in the path of the guard, then dove under the skirting of a table in the back of the nearby fabric tent. She peeked out underneath it to see if she was followed. She saw the guard slow near where she had dropped the coins. The woman leaned over, pretended to catch her breath, while stealthily picking up the coppers that Portia had dropped. Portia saw the guard slyly pocket the coppers, then she turned towards the apple seller and told her she did not know where the thief had gone, while still pretending to be out of breath.
Portia pulled back from the skirting and breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned back against the wall the table was up against and pulled out her purse to count her earnings. When she grabbed the purse, her fingers felt the envelope she had stolen earlier from the Hare boy. She had forgotten about it.
Pulling out the letter, she examined the envelope. A thick green wax seal held it closed. She recognized the symbol of the Hares pressed within it. There was no name or any other writing on the outside, and she felt no magic from it prohibiting others than the intended person from reading it. Portia exhaled sharply. There was only one way to find out what was within. She broke through the thick wax and opened the letter.
The letter was addressed to the Serpents, another rival orphan gang. Luckily, the letter was printed and not written in script—something that she could not read. John had said he was going to teach her the flowing loops of the ancient way of writing, but he died before that was possible. The letter listed a time and location of a meeting between the Hares and the Black Cats. The only other words were “Crash as planned,” which were scrawled in a messy hand. Crash what ? Portia wondered. Why would the Hares send a letter with details of their own private meeting to a rival gang? And why didn’t she know of the planned meeting between the Hares and the Black Cats? What was Deyelna up to? It didn’t make sense to Portia. Perhaps the boy who had confronted her was a spy within his own gang. But that letter was visible to the two other boys he was with, and surely a real spy would not be that bold, even with his own gang.
Portia held the letter in her hands, gently tapping it to her forehead to try to understand what was going on. She noticed a clerk reach under the other end of the table to retrieve a box. Luckily, the man did not see Portia. This was not a safe place to linger. Giving up on figuring out the letter, she folded it back up and stashed it within her jacket. She counted her coins—thirty-four coppers. It was enough for her dues and some food, but she didn’t dare buy anything at the market with the apple seller looking for her. She sighed heavily and decided to head back to the Black Cats’ house.
Portia waited until the fabric clerk was distracted with the customer and then crawled out from under the table. Walking through the market quickly, she noticed the sun was nearly set. This was bad. To reach the Black Cats’ house, she would have to pass near the warehouses that were now controlled by the Serpents. The Serpents were a gang that was well known for backstabbing and physical violence. Their ruthless tactics had been effective in encroaching on what had formerly been Black Cat territory. There was no way to avoid going near their area, however, without encircling the entire city, because of the nearby Smithing district where the Lynxes were in control, a gang who were equally brutal. The Black Cat territory was being pinched between the two rival gangs. If things continued, they would lose control of the farmers’ market because it would be too dangerous to get there.
Portia walked along the now darkening street. She tried to keep to the long strips of sun still left, avoiding the shadows. There were few people out. Anyone who was smart was getting inside before the sun set. She picked her way along, avoiding the trash that littered the way. A rat scurried out in her path. She jumped a bit but managed not to scream. She picked up her pace, looking left and right to make sure she didn’t see any other orphans.
Turning a corner, she nearly ran into a man who was thrust into the street from a nearby tavern. He was followed out by two rough-looking men. One of the men grabbed the victim by the collar and punched him right in front of Portia. Her eyes widened. She took off running. She did not want their ire to fall on her. One of the men yelled out to grab her because she was a witness, but the other said to let her go because she was just a kid. Portia kept running in case he changed his mind. She knew many an adult had died on that street. Someday, she would live in a place where she didn’t have to risk death every day.
Finally, she passed into the Black Cat neighborhood. The sturdier construction of the warehouse district gave way to old wooden homes, and even some shacks, once meant to be temporary but still in use many years later. The house where the Black Cats lived was over one hundred years old, drafty, and creaky. But it was home.
Portia walked up to the blue-stained front door. She knocked an intricate pattern. A single knock answered her from within. She mumbled “Night sky,” that day’s password. The door opened slowly, and she saw two Peters—or at least one Peter and one image of him. Peter was an older enforcer for the Black Cats. He was nearing the age of majority and was the second or third in command behind Deyelna. His magical ability was to create a duplicate of himself.
Portia was annoyed that he was using it on her. She sighed heavily. “Why are you watching the door instead of Jack? You hate door duty.”
Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I’m waiting for you, and I could watch the door at the same time. This way, I could send Jack to get me some dinner.” Peter smirked in his own cleverness. If he was anything, it was efficient. He backed up to give Portia room to enter.
Portia stepped in and the Peter to her right disappeared. She cursed at herself for not being able to figure out which Peter was the real one. She couldn’t tell where his voice had come from. Did he learn to throw his voice too? Or was that part of the magic? She needed to find that out.
“Mark has paid his dues,” Peter said. “Deyelna is waiting for you to come pay yours. I’ll take you to her.” Peter stood with his arms crossed, making it clear he expected Portia to follow him immediately.
Portia’s stomach tightened. “Can’t I just give you the coins?” Portia asked. She didn’t usually have to see Deyelna to pay her dues. There must be another reason. Knowing Deyelna, it would not be a pleasant one for Portia. Deyelna hated Portia from the first day they met, well before Deyelna was the leader of the Black Cats. It had only become worse since John, the previous Black Cat leader, had died. Deyelna had t
aken over as head Black Cat. Since then, it had been a constant struggle for Portia to not be evicted from the gang. Deyelna looked for any excuse to get rid of her. The only thing that had saved Portia so far was the rules that John had put in place about gang behavior and the possibility of revolt if Deyelna arbitrarily pushed Portia out without following those rules.
Peter shook his head no. “Sorry, plebe, the leader calls, and when the leader calls, you come running.” Peter tapped his foot impatiently. “Get a move on, you’re keeping me from Merticle’s Second Volume of History . He’s about to tell how the Karaths took over the world in the second century.”
Portia knew there was no getting out of this. Peter would enforce anything Deyelna wanted. She might as well get it over with. She nodded at Peter, straightening her shoulders to face what was next.
Peter turned and walked deeper into the house. Portia followed. Peter flicked his fingers at a Black Cat member sitting in the dark living room they passed on their way to the back of the house. The member rose and walked to the seat used when guarding the front door. Peter didn’t even turn his head to make sure his order was followed. Portia could not remember a time when someone had disobeyed Peter.
They walked deeper into the dark house towards Deyelna’s lair.
Chapter 2
Peter abruptly stopped in an open doorway. Portia barely stopped herself before walking into him. He looked in the room and nodded to its occupant, Merwin, a Black Cat member who was lounging in a chair with his feet on the desk, keeping an eye on the doorway. Merwin survived in the gang by being the local bookie. Portia had never seen him out pickpocketing. Instead, he favored the horse racetrack on the edge of town. He usually took bets from members of other gangs, but occasionally he would take one or two from the Black Cats members. But he purposefully didn’t take too many—it got to be awkward if too many Black Cats lost at once.
“Hey,” Peter said. “Those races were a mess today.”
Merwin nodded back at Peter. “Those races, or your choices?”
“I had a sure thing. Based on all the races I’ve seen before, Fire Storm should have won,” Peter said glumly. “I was counting on those winnings.”
“That is not a good idea. But I think you know that now,” Merwin said with a twinkle in his eye. He had some sympathies for his clients, but he wasn’t above teasing them. He didn’t take anything too seriously .
Portia crossed her arms and stared at Peter. She wanted to go rest. She couldn’t do that until after she paid her dues. “I thought Deyelna wanted to see me.”
Peter turned to Portia, irritation on his face. “This won’t take long. I’m surprised you’re in such a rush.” He pointedly looked at her crossed arms. Portia uncrossed them and tried to banish the irritation from her face. She wondered what Peter’s comment on her impatience meant. Did Peter know something that he wasn’t sharing about her upcoming meeting with Deyelna? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was wasn’t going to get any better by waiting. She might as well find out what the gang leader wanted.
Peter pulled out his coin bag, counted out a few coins, and handed them to Merwin. Portia tried to see how much he was paying, but Peter kept his back between her and his outstretched hand, purposely blocking her vision. He snorted at her attempt to be nosy. “Let’s go,” he said as he turned away from the doorway and led her further into the house. Portia saw Merwin tuck a coin into his dreads for good luck as they walked away.
Portia followed Peter. Looking down the hall in the direction that she and Peter were walking, she saw Mark come out of the kitchen. He nodded at her. As they passed Mark, Portia grabbed his arm. “Did you pay your dues?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mark said, glancing at Peter who was watching their exchange. “Had to pay them right to the boss this month. She was pretty pissed.”
“About your dues?” Portia asked.
“No, but something was bugging her.” Mark said. Portia knew Mark was just as uncomfortable with Deyelna as she was, but he was smart enough not to say too much in front of Peter. She’d have to talk to him about it later.
“You going to see her now?” Mark asked.
“Yes, she is,” Peter answered for her, motioning for Mark to continue down the hallway. “Off now. ”
Mark grimaced at Peter’s dismissal, but he merely nodded, then walked off. Portia was glad he didn’t get into it with Peter. A fight with Deyelna’s favorite enforcer was the last thing they needed right now.
Peter and Portia walked past the kitchen and finally reached the painted-over French doors that separated Deyelna’s domain from the rest of the house. Peter knocked three quick knocks, paused, then knocked another three quick raps. Portia heard a silky voice from within say to come in. Peter opened the door and gestured for Portia to enter.
Portia entered Deyelna’s room. Deyelna was sprawled on a large green velvet chair that faced the doorway, one of her legs draped over the overstuffed arm. Deyelna’s dark eyes were trained on a Black Cat member who was perched on the edge of a wooden chair in front of her. She smoothed a section of her long black hair over and over again while the Black Cat member in front of her studied the floor. Finally, Deyelna looked up at Portia, considered her for a second, then waved her fingers in dismissal to the Black Cat. The gang member quickly got off the chair and scurried around Portia and out of the room. Portia heard the door click behind her.
Deyelna did not say anything to Portia. The silence hung in the room.
Portia swallowed, then said, “I’m here to pay my dues.”
Deyelna nodded, gestured to a strongbox on a table along the wall. “You can put it in there. I trust you to put in the right amount.” Portia knew Deyelna was really telling her she didn’t trust her. There was an edge of anger to Deyelna’s voice that was different from her normal standard dislike of Portia.
Portia walked over to the strongbox and lifted the lid.
“Is there anything you want to mention while you’re here?” Deyelna asked from behind her.
Portia’s hands froze for a second. She forced herself to keep counting her coins, mentally willing her hands to stop shaking. “No, nothing,” she replied. Portia heard the quiver in her voice and hoped Deyelna did not notice. She dropped her thirty coppers into the strongbox and shut it. She forced her face to relax then turned to face Deyelna.
Deyelna glared at her. This was not the answer she had wanted to hear. She brought her leg down off the chair arm and leaned in towards Portia, a look of concentration on her face.
Portia knew that Deyelna was trying to use her glam magic on her. Deyelna had a strong magical ability to make people do what she wanted them to do. It was a formidable magical skill to have. She could feel the pressure on her brain as Deyelna tried to enforce her will upon Portia. Few people could resist it, or even notice it as it was worked upon them. Portia didn’t know of anyone in the Black Cats who could resist it now, except her. John had been able to, but he was long gone. She had avoided bringing her ability to withstand Deyelna’s magic to the leader’s attention because it only enraged her. But this time she would have no choice but to point-blank fight it.
Deyelna tried harder, sending shoots of pain through Portia’s head. Portia winced in response. She clenched her jaws shut. Deyelna was trying to make her talk. Portia strengthened her resolve to not give in to Deyelna’s pressure.
Portia knew that somehow Deyelna could tell her magic was not working on Portia. She had tried in the past to act slightly dazed and pretend that it was, but somehow Deyelna always knew. The rage on Deyelna’s face had terrified Portia the first time it had happened—her eyes had bulged, and she had raised fists to strike Portia. Luckily, John had been there to stop her.
She was on her own this time. She held on, hoping Deyelna would give up before she passed out from the agony in her head.
Deyelna exhaled in frustration. She stopped trying her magic on Portia. Portia breathed a sigh of relief as the pain left her head .
Standing a
bruptly, Deyelna paced in front of her throne chair. “You were always a problem, Portia,” Deyelna said. “Why are you making it worse by going into the Hare’s territory?”
Portia did not respond.
Deyelna stopped pacing. She stared at Portia. “I’ll take that as a confirmation.” She squinted her eyes at Portia, rage filling them. “The rules are clear, member . As a Black Cat, you work in the Black Cat territory. This is how it works.”
Deyelna walked directly in front of Portia. She crossed her arms and breathed into Portia’s face. “Do you understand? I don’t even know why I’m asking you, because clearly you don’t, or you won’t , understand this.”
Portia tried to not inhale Deyelna’s breath. “I understand the rules… but we can’t make enough money in the farmers’ market to pay our dues.”
“Yet everyone else manages to,” Deyelna replied.
Portia longed to ask if she was really sure about that. She had seen other members sneak off once or twice to try different areas, but she wasn’t a snitch. It wasn’t her place to tell Deyelna what the members of her gang were doing.
“We’re trying… I’m trying. But if I can’t get enough money, what else am I supposed to do?” Portia asked.
“Improve your thieving skills, member ,” Deyelna replied. “John always said you are a talented thief. What happened?”
Portia stiffened at the insult to her abilities. She was a good thief. It was just harder now. The crops had failed just as the kingdom had raised taxes. “The people are suffering these days. They don’t have as much coin as they used to—and they watch their purses all the more carefully because of that,” Portia said. Didn’t Deyelna ever go on the streets anymore? How could she not know what was happening in Valencia?
“Then you’ll have to be more skilled, won’t you?” Deyelna said. She stepped back from Portia and walked back to her throne. She fell back into it, once more sprawling out. “Besides, I have a plan. I’m going to take care of this issue. There is more going on than you would know about, member ,” Deyelna said, her voice thick with contempt. “I’m the leader here, understood? Your job is to do what you’re told.”