“Good.” Master Velvet nodded. “You’re progressing slowly, Seven. But by the gods, I’ll make a proper tyro out of you yet. Food and water, and we’re moving on.”
Her arms shook, her eyelids sagged, and her legs refused to move.
“It looks like Seven is dying, Master Velvet.”
“Shut it, Twelve! Unless you want to be the one to bury her corpse.”
She floated in the haze of exhaustion and numbness, her pain and hunger fading into a dull throbbing.
Master Velvet’s voice drifted from afar. “Three, Four, Nine, get Seven up and over to the table.”
A gentle hand shook her shoulder. “Get up, Seven,” a voice whispered. “If you don’t, we’re all going to pay for it.”
She opened her eyes. “W-Where…?”
Three, a boy with curly brown hair, dark eyes, and pale skin stood over her, gripping her shoulder. Beside him stood Four, a taller boy with pale hair down to his shoulders and bright blue eyes.
Three straightened. “She’s awake, Master Velvet.”
“Thank you, Three.” Master Velvet waved at the table. “Now, get some food in her and get her back on her feet or you’ll all be hauling her load.”
With a groan, Three helped her to her feet. “Here, Four, take her arms.”
Together, the two boys helped her stumble to a bench. Seven slumped onto the hard wood with a grateful nod. The third tyro, Nine, passed her a cup of honeyed water and a crust of bread. The tremor in his hand sent the liquid sloshing out of the goblet, but she was too exhausted to care.
“Eat up, Seven.” Three slipped onto the bench beside her and nibbled at an apple. Dark circles showed under his eyes, but he gave her a bright smile.
“Thank you.” Her words came out in a croak.
“Of course.” Three spoke in a low voice. “We tyros have to stick together.”
She emptied the cup of honeyed water with a grimace. The cloying liquid turned her saliva viscous and made her mouth tingle. Her teeth ached with every bite of the flaky-crust pastry. She forced herself to eat until her stomach churned—she needed the energy.
Three squeezed her hand and, with a wink, climbed to his feet.
The room swam in her vision and she felt herself falling. Her head struck something hard. Blood filled her mouth and she found herself on the ground.
“Back away, tyros.” Master Velvet’s voice sounded distant. His strong hand gripped her shoulder. With effort, Seven focused on his ugly grin. “Here. Eat this.”
She took the proffered item and stuffed it in her mouth. Her eyes widened at the familiar taste of meat. Though it made her teeth ache and twisted her stomach, she devoured it. They hadn’t had meat in…how long? She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had anything but pastries, fruit, and honeyed water.
“That will suffice.” Master Velvet’s voice cracked like a whip and he snatched the meat from her hands. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? We just need you back on your feet. Can’t risk breaking your conditioning. On your feet!”
Seven groaned. I’m so tired! Every joint and muscle ached, but she forced herself to stand straight, head held high, eyes forward, arms by her side.
“Form up, tyros!”
Viola joined the other children in the line before Master Velvet. The rest of the tyros looked as bedraggled and exhausted as she. Their dun-colored clothing hung loose on all save Twelve.
Master Velvet scratched his scruffy cheek. “I’ve been taking it easy on you so far. But now, it’s time to see what you’re made of!” He stabbed a finger at something behind them.
At his gesture, Viola turned. A cart had somehow appeared in the Menagerie, no doubt brought in while she ate.
“Twelve, Nine, you’re up first.”
Twelve smirked as he took his place in the yoke, but tears streamed down Nine’s pale, dirt-stained cheeks.
Seven sighed. Thank the Bright Lady. I can rest. The quiver in her legs and shoulders faded with every heartbeat, but the haze in her mind remained.
Master Velvet pointed to the far end of the room. “Get the cart over to that barrel and you’re free to return to your bunk.”
The two tyros threw themselves against the yoke and the cart creaked forward. Nine strained and grunted, but his efforts had no more effect than a mosquito struggling to topple a mountain. Twelve had muscle on his heavy frame, and he kept the cart moving at a ponderous pace across the muddy ground. Master Velvet walked alongside the slow-moving wagon, shouting at the tyros. Both Twelve and Nine slumped to the ground when Master Velvet gave the command to halt.
“Seven, Eight!” Master Velvet waved them to the other side of the room. “Over here, double time!”
Eight, a lanky youth with two missing teeth and a scar across his forehead, stumbled from the pack of tyros.
“Now, Seven!”
It took a moment to realize Master Velvet spoke to her. She staggered after Eight, her cheeks burning.
“Hurry it up, Seven, or you’ll haul the Keeper-damned thing alone!” Fire blazed in Master Velvet’s eyes.
“Yes, Master Velvet!” Gasping for breath, she took her place beside Eight. Knots twisted in her stomach.
“Now, get it moving! Double quick, tyros.”
She threw her weight against the wooden yoke. Eight groaned beside her.
“Keeper take you both! Get the poxy cart moving or you’ll spend the rest of the day hauling rocks.”
The wagon refused to move. It’s too heavy! We’re not strong enough.
She strained with every shred of strength in her exhausted arms and legs. With a horrible sucking sound, the wheels of the cart pulled free of the mud. She stumbled forward and fell face-first into the muck. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
“Find your feet, Seven!”
She and Eight heaved the wagon into motion once more. Fire burned from her neck down to her legs.
Master Velvet kept pace, shouting in her face. “What is your name, tyro?”
Seven opened her mouth, but no words came forth. I had a name once, a beautiful one. But what was it? She couldn’t think beyond the exertion and exhaustion.
Master Velvet’s spittle splashed her face. “I asked, what is your name, tyro?”
The haze in her mind drowned out everything else. “I-I can’t remember, Master Velvet.” Angry tears coursed down her cheeks.
“That is because you have no name, tyro.”
“Yes, Master Velvet.” Her breath came in shuddering gasps.
“You are Seven, tyro, and Seven you shall remain until you have earned your place in the Menagerie. Do you understand, Seven?”
Sweat stung her eyes. “Yes, Master Velvet.”
“So what is your name, tyro?”
“I have no name, Master Velvet.” She gritted her teeth and pushed. “I am Seven.”
* * *
Seven lay in her bunk, eyes wide and staring into darkness. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep for the heaving in her stomach.
“You awake, Seven?” Three’s whisper floated toward her.
She didn’t answer. Leave me alone! Let me sleep. Master Velvet would come for them soon. It could be in one minute, one hour, or one day. With no way to mark the time, day and night had started to blur into unending misery. She knew only hunger, thirst, fear, and exhaustion. But that’s the point of this, isn’t it? She couldn’t remember anything beyond their lightless, timeless prison of the bunk room, the tunnel, and the Menagerie.
“It’s not so bad, you know. It’s tiring work, but we’ll get through it soon enough. We have to.”
“How?” Her voice cracked with thirst and hunger. Master Velvet couldn’t overhear her, so she spoke without restraint. “I can’t take another day of this. It’s torture.”
“You have to, Seven. We all have to.”
She snorted. “It’s easy for you to say. You’re a boy.”
“So? Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you’re weaker, Seven.”
&
nbsp; Anger burned through her. “Of course I’m weaker! I can’t carry as much as you. Look at Twelve!”
“Yeah, but we can’t all be that big, bull-headed bastard.”
Despite her exhaustion, Seven giggled. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone to share the misery of her situation.
“Remember, Seven, being able to move heavy things isn’t the only sort of strength.”
In this horrible place, what else is there?
“Besides, they’re not going to kill us. They want to turn us into one of them.”
Fire coursed through her veins. “They’re doing an awful job of keeping us alive!” Her stomach growled for emphasis.
“They’re just trying to break us.” Excitement filled Three’s voice. “But I heard Master Velvet talking to himself over supper. He says we’re almost ready.”
“Almost ready? What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure, Seven, but I know it has to be better than this. Don’t give up. Stay strong and we’ll get through this together.”
She clenched her fists and nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “I will get through one more day.”
“Good. Keep saying that. And get some rest.”
Blankets rustled for a moment. Then silence filled the room.
I can do it. I can be as tough as any of the others. She may not have the strength of body, but no one—not even Master Velvet—would break her will.
Someone—she could no longer remember who—had taught her something important. I will stand tall, no matter what.
* * *
A new dream filled her night.
“This is all her fault, you know!” Anger filled Papa’s voice.
Shivering, the little girl pulled the tattered blanket tighter. What did I do?
“If that damned child hadn’t fallen out of that tree and—”
“Girard, she’s barely six years old.” The angel’s voice soothed her.
“Old enough to know that climbing too high can be dangerous. Because of her, we are where we are. Owing money to the Night Guild. I swore I would never—Twisted hell, Liora, not so tight.”
Sorrow tinged Mama’s voice. “We’ll survive, Girard. We always do.”
“I’m not so certain, Liora. You’ve been looking poorly of late.”
“Just a touch of the summer heat is all.” The girl knew the angel lied. She could hear it in Mama’s voice.
“Be that as it may, I’m still worried. You’re taking on far less mending work than you once did.”
“Starting next week, I’ll take in more orders. I’m sure I’ll be rested by then.”
More work? The girl sniffled and wiped her nose. Mama never seemed to have time to play anymore.
“Good. We need it,” Papa hissed between his teeth.
“There, finished. Now, you stay there and I’ll check in on Viola.”
Papa muttered something under his breath, but there was no mistaking the anger in his tone.
“She needs me, Girard. No doubt the poor thing is terrified. I’ll be down in a few minutes and…”
She awoke and found her pillow stained with tears. Huddling under her blanket, she closed her eyes and tried to find the memory of Mama. Sleep would not come.
Chapter Five
“Pick up the pace, tyros!” Master Velvet’s voice cracked like a whip. “My crippled grandmother works faster than you lot. How in the twisted hell did the gods see fit to saddle me with such useless clods?”
Seven ignored Master Velvet’s tirade. She grunted and groaned beneath the weight of her bucket. Her hands ached and her shoulders burned. But, somehow, the effort seemed less than the day before. Something within her had changed.
It’s almost over. She clung to Three’s words. We’re almost ready. For what, she had no idea. But just knowing the torment had almost reached its end made it easier to survive.
“Double time, Seven!” Master Velvet kept pace with her. His long legs made him look like a crimson-bellied spider. “You’re falling behind the others. You don’t want to miss another meal, do you, tyro?”
“No, Master Velvet!”
“Then get moving, Keeper take it!”
Gritting her teeth, she stumbled faster. Rocks rattled in time with her steps. Every muscle in her back, legs, and arms ached, but she would not put the bucket down.
I won’t fail, not again!
With a grunt, she staggered the few remaining paces and emptied her bucket into the barrel. She slumped to the floor, sweat streaming, gasping for breath. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the wood. The fire in her muscles drowned out the cold, wet squelching of the mud that stained her britches and caked her hands. A shadow fell across her face and the reek of stale alcohol assaulted her senses. She opened her eyes.
Master Velvet crouched before her. “Better.” His silver tooth glistened in the torchlight.
“Thank you, Master Velvet,” she panted.
“Up.” He thrust out a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Get some food.” He patted her back as she stumbled toward the table, his hand lingering.
Suppressing a shudder, she slipped onto the bench beside Three.
“Here.” He handed her an apple and a fist-sized chunk of bread. She nodded and stuffed the bread into her mouth. Her stomach complained, but she was too hungry to heed. She drained two cups of honeyed water before moving on to the apple. Her teeth ached and, with every bite, her gums left bloodstains on the fruit.
“You did good, Seven.” Three turned to his own meal.
Twelve snorted behind her. “Don’t encourage her, runt!”
Three met the bigger boy’s glare with defiance. “Why not?”
“’Cause she’s a girl, that’s why.” Twelve seized her shoulder and spun her around. He sneered. “You don’t belong here, girlie. You have no place in the Night Guild. You’re just a puny girl!”
Seven stared up at the big boy, taking in his face: a broad, flat forehead, heavy nose, wide-set eyes, pudgy cheeks, and thick lips. He stood a handspan taller than she did, his shoulders much wider. His round body looked soft, but she knew better. He’d hauled the buckets across the room with barely a protest.
She snatched her arm from his grasp. “Leave me alone. Let me eat in peace.” She turned her back on Twelve to hide her fear. Please, leave me be! She didn’t have the energy to deal with him.
He spun her around again, nearly pulling her from the bench. “What’cha going to do, girl? Cry to Master Velvet?”
Three gripped the bigger boy’s arm. “Leave her alone, Twelve.” His hand looked small on Twelve’s pudgy bicep.
Seven’s heart sank. No, Three! Twelve would fly into a rage at the smallest provocation. What are you doing? He’s going to hurt you!
Twelve shoved Three away. “Sit down, runt.”
The smaller boy stumbled backward, crying out as he landed in the wet mud.
No! Seven’s anger and frustration bubbled to the surface. Before she realized, her hand cracked across Twelve’s cheek.
The bigger boy’s eyes went wide and his hand flew to his face. Pain and surprise registered, replaced a moment later by outrage. “How dare you—!”
The force of his blow knocked her from the bench. She hit the ground, hard, and a weight slammed into her back. Twelve seized the back of her neck and shoved her face into the mud. “You bloody hit me!” Anger, tinged with a hint of madness, filled his voice. “Don’t you ever hit me again, you hear?”
Seven struggled in vain against his grip. Mud filled her mouth and nose. She fought to breathe.
“Get off her, Twelve! You’re killing her!”
“You’re next, Three. Just wait until I’m done with you…”
Twelve far outweighed her and was far stronger. She choked and coughed, unable to suck in air. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“You stupid—” Twelve’s tirade cut off sharply with a thud.
The weight fell from atop Seven and she rolled to her back, gasping for breath. Sh
e spat mud and wiped muck from her face. Beside her lay Twelve, gasping and clutching his face.
Master Velvet stood astride Twelve, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes ablaze. “I am the one who metes out judgment here, tyro!” He held his clenched fist poised to strike again.
“But, Master Velvet, she—”
Master Velvet slammed a boot into Twelve’s side, eliciting a yelp. Over and over, he kicked the boy, snarling curses and shouting at the tyro. The sound of boots and fists striking flesh echoed in the Menagerie, accompanied by Twelve’s sobbing protests.
Satisfaction penetrated Seven’s horror. Finally, he gets what he deserves!
Master Velvet delivered one final kick and, breathing hard, crouched over the sobbing Twelve. “Following in your father’s footsteps’ll only earn you misery in here. The Duke did that bastard Jerek a kindness by hanging him when he deserved far worse for what he did.”
Seven exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Three.
Master Velvet lowered his voice. “But the torments your father inflicted on those women will be nothing compared what I do to you if you ever lay a hand on your fellow tyros in my sight. Do you understand, tyro?”
The blood from his split lip and broken nose muffled Twelve’s reply.
“What was that?”
Twelve blubbered. “Yef, Mafter Velvet!”
Master Velvet straightened and glared at each tyro in turn. “Let this be a lesson to all of you!” Fire burned in his eyes. “You belong to the Night Guild, an investment that we expect you to repay in your future. But tell me, Twelve, how will Seven earn her keep if she is DEAD?”
A deafening silence fell over the Menagerie. The only sound came from the sobbing Twelve, curled in a ball on the floor.
“There will be many opportunities in your future to be beaten or killed in service to the Guild. I expect you all to live that long.” The dagger appeared in his fingers as if by magic. “If I have to repeat this lesson, I will not be lenient.”
* * *
Seven’s cheek ached every time she moved, but she couldn’t help the smile that spread her lips. It had felt good to fight back. Twelve huddled in his blankets, facing the wall. His whimpers filled the room.
Child of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 1) Page 3