“Right,” he said, sitting up in bed. Relief swept over him, glad to finally have her say yes. He wouldn’t be with Gam all the time. He couldn’t be. But a bit more would be nice. He sat up and kissed her shoulder. “Let’s go get some food. We can talk more about it later.”
They both got up from the bed, searching the room for their clothes. Derk thought about pulling Gam back to the bed before they went out but he found all his clothes too quickly to make it happen. Gam dressed in a dress he hadn’t seen before, the embroidery around the neckline and shoulders intricate and beautiful. He offered her his arm and they walked out onto the streets of Portsmouth together looking for a meal.
“Where’s the pendant I got you?” Derk asked. They were several blocks from her home and he noticed she hadn’t bothered to wear it. “You didn’t wear it?”
“Oh,” Gam said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I must have forgot to put it on. Got caught up in being hungry and all.” Gam leaned over and kissed him on the cheek in consolation. Derk tried not to look too disappointed. After all, she had agreed to join in the Cup, hadn’t she? He had brought his past to the present. As they walked to the bar Derk couldn’t help but feel like even with Gam closer to him, the road before him was still unknown.
CHAPTER 21
Little Girl Found
Derk took a moment to have a seat in the back alley, shaking out his coat so the tails fluttered behind him as he sat down, groaning. His head ached horribly and his eyes were still having a hard time focusing. The blows he had just taken were still with him, apparently. He had gone to the End Side to wallow a bit, intending on blowing off some steam by picking a fight with one of the other patrons. Instead, someone started throwing chairs right when he finished his first bottle. What was meant to be a therapeutic trip to the bar ended in a brawl involving most of the people there. The inside of his mouth tasted like salt and iron and he spit to the side, cursing at the blood shining bright red on the dark cobblestones.
Fenwick was one of the worst places Derk had ever been, and yet he had stayed here the longest. It was a town full of people with bad tempers, horrific manners and dark secrets. Its reputation as a den of thieves had been what attracted Derk in the first place. After much carousing with others from the Cup, as well as going on a few more diplomatic exploits, he realized his skills had reached a plateau. He would have to be pressed to grow and when he asked Hock how he should go about doing so, the man had said, “Fenwick.” The suggestion had both intrigued and frightened him. Before he could decide otherwise he set out, telling Jezlen to meet him in a year’s time. The Forester had said something to the effect of, “If you make that long.” This of course convinced the thief Fenwick must be done and so he left, determined to last a year.
It had been a fruitful year. Among the lowest of the low, he had learned a few new tricks, most of them meaner or sneakier than those he was accustomed to. He learned a few names and matched a few faces. He now had the ability and nature required to strike a man down with one blow. Even more so, he fell back upon his old habits of disappearing and reappearing when it was most convenient to him. “Derk the Lurk” came into Fenwick from quite a few cities down, and in the streets, alleys and halls of the city, he lived up to his new name.
Of course, not everything had been educational. Shortly after arriving in Fenwick, Derk fell in love with one of the brass, a thin, dark haired girl named Benna. Shortly after she took him on, she informed him she was pregnant. The attention he paid her was apparently unwelcome because she threw him out, informing him she wouldn’t give up her profession or be told what to do by any man. During the following months, he checked up on her, sending her money and offering to move them all out of the city, to some place safer. When the child was born, it was very obviously not his and Benna evicted him from her life. It was the reason why he had gone to the bar.
“Stupid hem chawers” he muttered to no one in particular. His mouth still tasted like blood and his head still pounded. He crossed his legs and placed his right ankle on his left knee, opening the compartment in the boot heel only after making sure no one was looking. Inside was a fullie and a silver colored charm, meant to bring him good luck wherever he stepped. Derk contemplated tossing it into the gutter and spitting on the old soothsayer who had sold it to him. But the old woman told him only in the death throes would peace come and then, life. Riddles. The fortune teller was almost as bad as the priestesses in this city, with their meandering liturgies and cold prayers.
A few more phases sounded like an eternity at the moment. He secured the charm and the white coin in his heel before he stood up, surprised at the pain shooting through his leg as he put his weight on it. Had someone kicked him there? His knee felt slightly loose and he grimaced as he walked through the alley, limping as he made his way onto the busy street.
Derk’s eyes scanned the teeming streets, only slightly sure of what he was looking for. When Derk was hurt, he generally wanted one thing: to be pampered by a beautiful woman. Beautiful women weren’t hard to come by in Fenwick, but the chance of finding one who would care for him would most likely prove fruitless. His stomach growled despite his other bodily pains, commanding food before doctoring. The aroma of something pleasant seemed to be mixed in with the other ranker scents and so he followed his nose toward what he hoped would be food for sale.
The first thing he noticed about her was he almost didn’t see her. The small body bumped into him and a tiny voice said, “Sorry,” before the speaker scurried away, trying to get lost in the sea of people. Derk stopped dead in his tracks, letting the people stream around him like water around a river rock. He knew the feeling.
There was the sensation of someone being clumsy and bumping into you. And then there was this; a sizing up upon impact, deliberate, meant to tell the “bumper” something about the person they bumped into. He turned his head and strained his eyes, trying to see if he could make out who had done it. The pressure had been too low for a full grown adult and the voice too high for a man or a woman. He turned around altogether, shoving someone who was giving him dirty looks for holding up the flow of traffic in the street. His eyes scanned the crowd and fell upon a small group standing in front of the temple.
The little girl was like a tattered butterfly fluttering to and fro among the people on the street, eventually lighting upon the white-washed steps of the temple. In the short time it had taken her to run between five people she had acquired something to eat and was now chewing it quickly, hiding behind the skirts of one of the women in the group. They were obviously all brass and the one who the girl was hiding behind obviously the ring leader of the three. The woman, buxom and blonde, looked down at the little girl, tossing her head back as she laughed and patted her on the head, playing with one of the girl’s long, black braids. The little girl smiled slightly, still gnawing at whatever she had taken. The blonde woman said something and the little girl’s large mouth frowned slightly as she turned her dark eyes up toward the woman. The woman knelt down and tucked a braid behind the girl’s ear, revealing its slight point. As soon as the woman turned away the little girl made a face and let her hair fall back over her ear.
Derk held his breath as he looked not upon the woman but the girl, finding his heart pounding in his chest. He would never admit the little girl reminded him of someone, but she did. Instead, Derk saw the look in the girl’s eyes as she scanned the crowd, remaining inconspicuous as she took everything in around her before she walked up a few more steps and sat down, setting her face in her hands. He almost laughed out loud, thinking the look on her face comical. He reached into his coat pocket for his hat and pulled it onto his head before he headed straight for the temple steps, not able to keep from limping more as he neared the women.
The three hawked their wares on the steps of the New Moon Temple, bells on their corsets jingling enticingly to passers-by. When it came down to it, he would have preferred the thin one with the long hair to the blond one, but he wasn’t there f
or pleasure, though he would take it if it came to that. He tipped his hat to the three women, focusing his attention on the buxom one who had been laughing earlier, even managing to get his legs to aid him in a courtly bow The women laughed, the one he was looking at placing a hand on her chest.
“Well, ain’t it nice to see a body with manners?” she said, pushing a few curls behind her ears. The woman adjusted her skirts and walked down the steps toward him, stopping short at the bottom. She lifted her chin slightly, a smirk playing on her coral lips before she spoke again. “You look like you’ve been worked over and need a bit of doctorin’.”
“Right you are, good woman,” he said, placing his hat over his heart, hoping he looked as pathetic as he felt. He knew he didn’t have to go through all this; he could have just pulled out some money, pointed and they would have been on their way. But he was more here for information than for the exchange of purses and so he appealed to the prostitute’s apparent boredom, giving her a chance for a bit of conversation before business. He let his head hang slightly, his dirty hair falling into his face. “Some loving care would be nice right about now. Have I come to the right place?”
“Right you are,” she said, walking toward him coquettishly, her skirts dragging on the temple steps. Derk couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, eying the little girl sitting on the temple steps. The little girl stared at him, frowning at his face before her dark eyes scanned down and set on his shoes. She tilted her head the side, a quizzical expression scrunching her features. The prostitute opened her mouth to speak, stopping herself as she turned to see what he was looking at. A wry look managed to creep its way past her make up as she put her arm in his, leading him away. “She’s green yet, so keep yer blues off of her.”
“Pardon me,” he said, managing to tear himself away from the girl and turn his attention to the woman. “Just I ain’t used to seeing little ones around your type. If they have ‘em, they don’t generally let them hang around. It’s bad for business, I hear.”
The woman laughed, the same melodic cackle as before, the bells at her bosom jingling. Derk knew she wanted him to look at her chest so he did, playing into her little game. The woman took in a breath after she was done having her chuckle, leading him around a corner.
“Ah well, I have to keep an eye on her and she ain’t no fuss. She knows when to make herself scarce,” she said, looking over her shoulder as if to make sure the girl wasn’t there. The alley was quiet and bare, save for the two; off from the distance came the sound of the nearby streets. The woman cast quick glances in either direction before lifting her skirts up past her ankles.
“Hold on!” cried Derk, holding one hand out toward her feet, urging her to stop. “Not here!” He managed to keep disgust from his voice, forcing a smile and tapping his left leg. “I’ve a bum knee at the moment and money. Don’t you have a place hereabouts?” Derk really did want a bed to lie on; his knee was starting to ache and possibly swell and the sooner he got off of it, the better. However, Derk also was of the opinion anything more serious than kissing should be done away from other people and preferably on something soft. He was also curious to see where the little girl lived. A part of his brain told him to have nothing to do with the brass; they were foolish and wayward and his last involvement with one had put him in the physical and emotional state he was currently enjoying. But Derk told himself he wasn’t getting involved. He was casing a scene. He was going to make a grab and sleeping with the prostitute was just one step in the plan.
The woman laughed out loud, dropping her skirts and looping her arm in his, leading him down the alley as the bells jingled at her bosom. “I see, you’re one of them old fashion, romantical types, ain’t you? I had a feeling, just from looking at you. It’s a nice change of pace for me, I tell yah….” She talked some more and Derk tried to listen, the throbbing in his head and knee becoming more acute with every step he took. Mostly he nodded and tried to seem charming, hoping to endear himself to the bubbly woman leading him to where the little girl lived. When his pants were off, they revealed a swollen, purple knee which would need to be dressed sooner than later. He paid her before she asked for payment, reminded her to be gentle before he started his plan to investigate and possibly obtain the little girl.
The little girl’s name was Tavera, though the women called her Tavi. She was probably somewhere around nine or ten years of age, though it was hard to tell on account of her Forester blood; it was said they grew differently from both Valleymen and Foresters and no two half-breeds grew alike. In all his wanderings, Derk had never come across another like the girl. Prisca, Gia and Sera found her on the street just last winter. Prisca had taken the girl under her wing, having lost a daughter just a few seasons back to an epidemic. She was raising the girl as her own and training her to live the lifestyle of a woman who sold pleasure in Fenwick.
Derk watched the girl every day he could, which was almost every day as he had few obligations and answered to no one. He found himself caught up in her every public activity. He cheered for her when she managed to pocket something of worth, cringed when she was lambasted or struck down by an annoyed street vendor, laughed when she danced in the street for a half a blueie. The day after he met her, he was shocked to see someone, most likely Prisca, had cut off all her hair. The long, black tresses were gone, the bonnet on her head and the expression on her face doing nothing to hide the fact. Obviously upset by the cosmetic loss, she still managed to be of service to her benefactors, returning from a particularly long stint with a string of sausages, though she herself did not partake. The hair gone, he could see the top point of one of her ears was missing, cut clean off with a knife, most likely. He wondered what had happened to the little girl to warrant such a wound, admiring the tiny thing for having such tenacity and perseverance.
It became obvious after a few visits to Prisca the little girl stole from the woman’s clients. He had figured the girl’s rudimentary prowess at pilfering would be exploited somehow by the woman and he decided to test the girl. He hid things in various parts of his clothing before he visiting the woman, noting where he put them and checking to see which ones he lost to the girl’s invisible hand. The little girl never did figure out the the heel of one of his boots was hollow and if she did, she never searched them. Derk was careful to keep anything of real value out of his coat and pants when he visited the peculiar house which was the home of the three women.
She wasn’t a pretty little girl or a courteous one. She was more likely to frown than to smile. But her hands were quick and when she narrowed her eyes and took in a scene Derk knew she saw everything. She was an ass. She kicked stones at people and then hid, causing more than a few fights in the marketplace and more than a few distractions. Her small, skinny fingers were adept at picking up bits here and there and one day after she had nicked a pretty button he followed her. He watched from the shadows and he saw it. The smile on her dark face, the grin, the light in her eyes. He knew how she felt. He could imagine her heart thumping in her chest jubilantly, the pride coursing through her.
Derk wanted her to feel that again, to see the smile on her face. The girl was a thief, a natural. Prisca didn’t know it, but Derk did. And he could help this little girl along better than the brass. As he thought about his legacy the girl looked up, her dusky face frowning as she peered into the dark. Derk ducked away and ran, hearing her walking to investigate. But by then he was gone and he had already decided.
Eventually Prisca figured out how Derk kept himself fed, though it didn’t deter her from keeping him as a client or make her think he was there for something more than what she had for sale. He was sure to bring her plenty of trinkets and gifts to endear himself to her and never pressed her for anything more than he paid her for. As far as Prisca was concerned, he was there for Prisca. As far as Derk was concerned, he was putting up with Prisca to get the girl. He was convinced despite all the experience he had acquired in Fenwick, the girl was to be the better gain.
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br /> On the final day of the year, Derk stood in Prisca’s room, naked, his dagger out and pointed at the women in the bed. The little girl was knocked out and still hanging halfway out of the crawlspace. He knew the door was locked, having done so himself. He listened for a moment to be sure no one was coming; shouts and screams weren’t uncommon in this house, and so Derk grinned triumphantly at the vulnerable Prisca, turning his dagger so the light glinted off of the blade.
“Now shut up,” he said before she could speak, her mouth popping open and closed, fear glittering in her eyes. He stood between the girl and the bed, keeping his eyes on the woman for the moment, making sure she wouldn’t fight back. Prisca’s eyes weren’t on the dagger but the slumped over girl. Tears started to stream down her face. Derk huffed, bending down and feeling around in his bag for the sack he had brought.
“I’m taking the girl and you ain’t going to stop me,” he said, shaking the sack open. “You won’t say nothing to no one and you’re not coming after us either. If you do, I will warrant you another nickname you shall not like, if you catch my meaning.” He kept his eyes cold and his face hard as he spoke, not hope but power propelling his words toward the shaking woman. He placed the dagger on the small table, being sure to set it down so it pointed at Prisca as a warning. Derk gave her one more icy glare before he bent down and carefully folded the girl up and put her in the sack, tying it up and leaving it on the floor as he got dressed.
“But…but why are you taking her?” Prisca’s voice was quiet but still full of alarm, a tiny, keen sound which seemed to cut his ears with its controlled grief. For a split second Derk almost felt pity for the woman, her hair loose and spilling about her pained face, her make-up smearing. But all his pity was reserved for the girl in the sack, and so he offered Prisca none of it.
The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3) Page 44