by Alex Linwood
Portia bristled at Deyelna’s attitude, but she shoved her anger back down. Now was not the time to push back. She wondered if Deyelna’s plan had anything to do with the meeting mentioned in the letter. If Deyelna was going to be at that meeting between the Hares and the Black Cats, she probably had no idea about the Hares instructing the Serpents to crash it. It must be a trap set by the Hares. The thought of Deyelna taking the fall mollified Portia somewhat.
But would she and Mark be safer if Deyelna lost power?
Portia shook her head. No. Deyelna might be a bully, but she knew how to deal with her. Portia herself was too young to lead the Black Cats, nor did she want to. She also didn’t know what would happen if someone found out she had knowledge to protect Deyelna and failed to do so. “Does it have anything to do with the Hares?” Portia asked.
Deyelna narrowed her eyes at Portia. “Why would you ask that?”
Portia swallowed. “I think the Hares are setting a trap for you,” she blurted out.
“And how would you know that?” Deyelna squinted at Portia. “And why would I believe you?” Deyelna tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Is this why you have been going into Hare territory? To set up a traitorous plot?”
“No! I was just trying to make some money. We were attacked by the Hares.” Portia hesitated. She wanted to show Deyelna proof that she was loyal to the Black Cats. Maybe that would get her off her back. Or maybe it would further infuriate her leader. She looked at Deyelna sprawled on her chair, and indignation at being berated by her overtook Portia. “I stole this letter in the fight.” Portia pulled out the letter and thrust it out to Deyelna.
Deyelna looked at the letter and then up at Portia’s face. “What is this?” She was not in a hurry to touch it.
Portia shook the letter. “It’s from the Hares to the Serpents.”
Deyelna looked at her skeptically.
“It’s about… your meeting with them,” Portia insisted.
“I don’t believe you,” Deyelna said, but she took the letter from Portia’s hand. She examined the seal on the outside then quickly scanned its contents. She folded it back up and slammed it on the table in front of her. “This is a fake. Who gave this to you? Or did you come up with it yourself?”
Portia could feel the anger radiating off Deyelna. Surely Deyelna didn’t think she would betray her?
“I… couldn’t come up with that. How would I even know about your meeting?” Portia asked.
“I don’t know—yet. But you’re sneaky. I don’t put it past you.”
“I grabbed it out of the jacket of a Hare. He didn’t want me to have it,” Portia protested.
“And what did this Hare look like?” Deyelna asked, skeptically.
Portia racked her brain to try to remember. Everything had happened so fast. “He was just a little taller than me and had dark curly hair—”
“They all have dark curly hair,” Deyelna said, waving her arm in frustration. “You aren’t telling me anything helpful. I don’t understand why you think I should believe you.”
“Because you’re the leader of our gang,” Portia said. “Why would I betray you?”
Deyelna stared over Portia’s right shoulder, considering her options while still drumming her fingers on her chair arm. She finally turned to Portia. “I need proof. I need proof this letter is real. You and Mark are going to go to the Serpents’ territory and get it for me.”
Portia’s stomach tightened. Poaching from the Hares was one thing, but messing with the Serpents was another thing entirely. They were not a gang to be taken lightly. They were violent. And not afraid of bloodshed. Thieving was the least of their crimes. The thought of having to face them, or getting caught in their territory terrified her. Furthermore, she couldn’t bear the thought of Mark being in danger with her. “They might not even know about this yet. Not if I took the letter,” Portia protested.
Deyelna picked up the letter and glanced inside. “It says crash as planned . If this letter is real, someone there will know about this. And since you’re the one telling me about this, it makes the most sense that you should go and prove it.”
“At least leave Mark out of this. I’ll go on my own,” Portia said.
“No. Mark goes with you.”
“Why? He has nothing to do with this,” Portia said. She could hear the anxiety in her voice and cursed herself for not controlling her emotions better. Deyelna would insist even more if she knew how much Portia feared for Mark.
“Because I said so,” Deyelna said. “I’m the leader here, and I’m tired of your back talk. Either you and Mark do this, or you’re both evicted from the gang.”
A pain shot through Portia’s heart. The gang was the only family she had known. Losing it would be the end of her world. She knew Deyelna couldn’t stand her, but to force her and Mark onto the street so casually was a level of betrayal that took her breath away. Deyelna must be confident in her ability to control the rest of the gang after such an action.
“Fine,” Portia said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’ll do it. But I’m going to protect Mark and keep him out of trouble.”
“Whatever,” Deyelna said. “Just as long as you get it done.” She waved her dismissal at Portia.
Portia turned and exited Deyelna’s lair. She made her way back to the room she shared with Mark. Opening the door, she saw him on the pile of old blankets that was his makeshift bed on the floor. She sighed, turned to her own bed, and pulled off her purse and knife belt. She dreaded telling Mark what Deyelna had said.
“Did you find out why she’s pissed?” Mark asked.
“Not really. She knows about us going into the Hares’ territory.”
“Ugh.” Mark said. “You said she wouldn’t know.”
“I don’t know how she knew it,” Portia said. “But…” She turned to Mark. “It gets worse. She wants us to go to the Serpents’ territory.”
Mark looked at her questioningly. Portia explained about the letter and what it said about the meeting. She told him about Deyelna’s threat to evict them. He turned pale as she told him.
“Peter’s told me about the Serpents. They hate the Black Cats,” Mark said, looking ill. “They caught a Black Cat in their territory a few years ago when Peter had just joined the gang. They kept the Black Cat prisoner for a week. When they finally released him, he came back to the gang but never spoke another word again. Not one. They took his tongue.”
“That’s just a story Peter said to scare you,” Portia said.
“No. That’s what they do to spies,” Mark said. “It’s a message. They cut their tongues out so they can’t speak.”
“Even if it’s true that they captured someone, he probably didn’t talk because he was scared of them,” Portia said, putting a brave face on it. She refused to believe that it was true that a gang would mutilate someone like that. She couldn’t believe it was true because they had to go deal with them. If the Serpents were that vicious, she would lose her nerve. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because if we don’t do what Deyelna says, she’ll kick us out of the gang. We’ll be on the streets without protection.”
“The Serpents truly don’t like spies. I think they really did it.”
Portia didn’t answer Mark. She sat down heavily on her bed, putting her head in her hands. “We have to go and find one of them that knows about this meeting. Or get proof, somehow, that they are in league with the Hares. ”
“Can’t we just grab one of the Hares and make them talk? They are less scary,” Mark said, the edge of a plea in his voice.
“No, Deyelna was clear.”
Portia did wonder why they couldn’t prove it with one of the Hares. She considered going back and making that case to Deyelna, but she knew that risked enraging Deyelna even further. Their leader was known for doing rash things when in the throes of a rage. She could see them getting immediately banished if she pushed too hard.
“It’s probably a trap,” Mark said quietly.
/> Portia looked up. She knew Mark more than likely was right, but what could they do?
“Well, let’s not get caught,” Portia said. She shook herself slightly. This was not the time to get morose or let Peter’s tales get to her.
“Okay. We might as well get this over with before Deyelna comes up with something worse,” Mark said, getting up. He gathered up his own knife belt and purse from underneath his pillow and put them on.
“Have you eaten?” Portia asked. Her own stomach was growling since she hadn’t been able to buy anything at the market.
“Yeah, I did,” Mark said. He pulled out a half roll and cheese and handed it to Portia. She looked at him questioningly. He shrugged. “I nicked it from the cook.”
“Like we aren’t in enough trouble,” Portia said.
Mark looked at her mischievously. “I think Cook lets me get away with it.”
Portia wasn’t going to argue with Mark. Cook probably did let him get away with it. She had no idea why the cantankerous old woman favored Mark over the rest of them, but at this moment she was grateful. She shoved the sandwich into her mouth and chewed quickly while she gathered her own thieving tools: a set of lockpicks, some thin but strong rope, and a few caltrops. She stashed these tools in a small bag she wore under her jacket, preparing herself for the huge challenge ahead.
When she was finished, she turned and nodded at Mark. He nodded back. Together they walked out of the safety of their room.
Chapter 3
Portia and Mark exited the Black Cat’s house and stepped into the dark street. Portia hoped they would have better luck escaping notice under the cover of night. They turned in the direction of the warehouse district and walked down the nearly deserted street. They had about half a mile to go, so Portia thought this would be a good time to refresh Mark on her rules—the rules she had come up with years ago to protect herself when thieving. Those rules would probably help them in spying.
“Remember the rules,” Portia said.
Mark looked at her, then rolled his eyes. “I know the rules.”
“Just in case, let’s go over them… One: don’t be the attacker—”
“Always defend yourself against attack,” Mark interrupted. He continued on in a singsong voice, “Two: don’t draw attention to yourself. Always walk normally, like you aren’t sneaking.” He skipped, doing a little dance to his words, wiggling his butt and making Portia laugh despite herself. “Three: have a backup plan—never go into a place you don’t know how to get out of. Four,” he pointed at Portia, waving his index finger at her, “go in at the highest point of the building because it’s less likely someone will question you. And finally, five: slow people down so they can’t fight you.” He stopped dancing at the end of his recitation and gave her a little bow.
Portia sighed. “As long as you know them.” She looked meaningfully at him. “Especially the part about not fighting.”
Mark did not acknowledge her words. He turned once again towards the warehouses and walked determinedly. Portia sighed once again and fell in alongside him.
The residential houses thinned until there were just one or two per block separated by junkyards and decrepit businesses. Finally, the houses disappeared once and for all, leaving a desolate block of open space before the looming warehouses ahead of them. The shadows between the warehouses were pitch-black, not even receiving a sliver of moonlight.
Portia and Mark looked for observers but saw no one besides a wagon caravan coming from the city behind them, and Portia motioned for Mark to step back. They waited for the caravan to approach. When it passed them, Portia and Mark fell in line behind the last wagon as if they were part of it. This way, they crossed the open space before the warehouses started, hopefully not attracting any special notice.
Once they were between two warehouses, Portia motioned to Mark to climb a narrow metal ladder attached to one of the buildings. The ladder led up to the roof. Mark jumped up, grabbed the bottom rung which hung five feet off the street, and pulled himself up. He climbed three rungs before the metal ladder gave a loud groan. Mark stopped climbing immediately. Both he and Portia looked around. No one seemed to have noticed. There was no cry of alarm. No running footsteps. Mark gingerly started climbing again. Portia waited a second then leapt up to the bottom rung and followed him to the roof.
Mark and Portia walked along the edge of the warehouse roof. They looked for a Serpent wandering the streets below. When they got to the far side of the building, Mark spied someone and pointed out a dark, skulking figure in the alleyway below to Portia. They watched as the figure walked carefully down the dark alley, keeping close to the wall as if trying to avoid notice. They followed along on the roof in the direction the figure was walking. The figure hurried its pace until Mark and Portia were running on the rooftop to keep up. They were stopped by a massive looming wall ahead of them—it was the exterior wall of the next adjacent warehouse. It rose ten feet higher than the building they currently stood on. They’d have to find a way onto its roof, and quickly, if they wanted to keep following the figure. Unfortunately, there was no nearby ladder, and the figure below disappeared around the corner of the next block before they found a way up. Mark sighed in frustration.
“This warehouse seems to be the highest around,” Mark said, pointing to the warehouse in front of them. “Perhaps we should check inside here first.”
“Agreed. First, let’s get on top.”
Portia and Mark ran quietly along the wall of the warehouse until they reached another metal ladder that led up to the roof of the higher structure. They climbed it. When they reached the top, they could see unobstructed in every direction. No nearby building was higher than the one they were standing on. They were safe from being spied on as long as they carefully stood back a few feet from the building’s sides, so that no one could look up from the street and see them.
They walked along the side of the building, carefully keeping a few feet back, and looked for the spill of light on the street below that would give away the location of a window in the warehouse above it. Hopefully, the lights would be on in the building—otherwise they would have to come up with another plan. But they were in luck. Portia spied a window shaped puddle of yellow light in the alleyway fifty feet ahead. She pointed it out to Mark. They ran to the corresponding location on the roof.
Mark carefully walked to the edge, got on his stomach, and leaned over. Portia sat on his legs, keeping him from falling over as he edged his head and upper chest out to see in the window. He looked for a few minutes then twitched his right leg twice, signaling to Portia to help pull him back up.
Once up, he sat heavily, his face beet red from hanging upside down. He shook his head rapidly to clear the blood. “It was hard to see, but it looks like an office. I could see through a window in the office door that the warehouse was full of goods, except for an opening in the middle of the boxes.” He looked at her meaningful. “It would be the perfect place for secret gang meetings. Especially if the owner didn’t know about it.”
Portia nodded. She pulled out her rope. She tried to remember which one of them was heavier—they had both grown so much, so quickly, in the last few years. He was definitely thinner. But even if he was lighter, she didn’t want him risking going into the warehouse first. She felt responsible for him. She looked around the roof for anything they could use as an anchor. There was a small brick chimney. She kicked at it and not a brick moved. It was solid. Portia wrapped the rope around it several times and then handed the end to Mark. He would be the last stop if the chimney didn’t hold. She hoped it would not come to that. The last thing she wanted was both of them in a broken heap on the street below.
“Knot this around your waist and lean back until I get inside. I’ll look for a spot to tie up so you can follow,” Portia said as she handed the rope to Mark.
Mark nodded in agreement. He tied the rope around his waist and handed the loose end to Portia. She tied it around herself and went over the edge
of the building. Carefully holding the rope tight between her and the chimney, she leaned over slowly and then walked down along the building wall, letting out rope as she went.
She continued walking down on the vertical side of the building, her stomach in her mouth. She refused to look to the street below. She could do this because she had to, but heights were not her thing. She looked down only occasionally to make sure she was coming down above the window.
Portia’s arms shook with the effort of letting out the rope. She only had a few more feet of slack until she reached the knot around her waist. Luckily, it was enough, and she reached the window.
Portia gingerly put one foot on the narrow window ledge and then brought down her second foot. She crouched the best she could sideways, carefully freeing one hand, and pushed up on the window. It wouldn’t budge. She peered inside. The lock on the window was not set—and why would it be? The window was several stories about street level. It must be stuck.
Shifting her position to get better leverage, she pushed up again. Still the window wouldn’t move. Portia cursed under her breath and rested for a moment, clinging on the window edge.
“Are you okay?” Mark said softly from the roof.
Portia didn’t want to answer for the noise it would make but was afraid Mark would come investigate is she didn’t respond. “Yes,” she said quietly. “The window is stuck. Hold on.”
Portia reached inside her jacket for a small metal tool to use as a lever on the bottom of the window. Unfortunately, a caltrop came out along with the tool and dropped to the ground below. She silently cursed and held her breath until she heard the small tinkle of the caltrop hitting the hard-packed ground and then bouncing. Nothing reacted to the small noise. Portia exhaled then slipped the flat end of the metal tool under the bottom of the window. She pushed down and felt the window release. It must have been painted shut.