“With who?” Even as the question left his lips, he realized what Cade would say. The dark soldiers were hated by all the Underground, but by none so much as Cade. “That’s insane. We can’t fight the dark soldiers—there’s too many of them.”
“It is insane. For now.” Cade’s eyes glittered in the firelight. “Now, it’s just a dream, but one day it will be a reality. Even now, every dagger we steal, every purse, every coin is a step toward breaking the soldiers’ hold on Kerby. And when we’re ready, we’ll fall upon them and drive them from the city. Then we’ll be free again.”
The energy pulsing through Ky brought him to his feet. “The soldiers have been here for five years, Cade. They won’t just leave.”
“Yes, five years. And that’s how long I’ve been here. The soldiers are responsible for all of this, for all of us.” Cade’s gaze darted to Aliyah limping across the room, her crutch tapping on the stone floor.
Cade avoided talk of his past with the same skill that had brought him through a hundred harvesting runs without getting caught, but Ky knew the dark soldiers were somehow responsible for Aliyah’s injuries. Still, just knowing the soldiers were evil didn’t give the Underground the means to fight back.
He turned to Dizzier. “You in on this too?”
Dizzier settled back against the fire ring, reclining with his arms behind his head. “Eh, the dark soldiers aren’t any friends of mine, Shorty. Sooner they’re gone, the better.”
“Are you with us?” Cade asked.
Ky’s shoulders drooped. No one said no to Cade, however hopeless the proposition. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
Dizzier shot up and pounded him on the back. “Got good news for ya, Shorty. You’ve just earned your first independent command.”
The coveted words fell flat on his ears. He blinked and turned to Cade for confirmation.
The older boy nodded and stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “Tomorrow. Apple bobbing. You’ve been assigned a new little sister.”
“Quick! Get down.” Ky shoved Meli behind the barrel and threw himself flat in the shelter of an overturned crate. Two black armored soldiers stalked past the alley way, boots rat-tatting on the cobblestones.
Once it was clear, he pushed up onto his knees, muck clinging to his clothes and hands. The crate looked like it had once housed chickens. Smelled like it too. He wrinkled his nose at the stench and checked to make sure his sling was still tied around his waist and hadn’t been loosened by the fall.
Meli crept over to him, lifting her rust red cloak clear of the mud. Wisps of brown hair clung to her face and she pushed them aside. “What’re we s’posed to do, Ky?”
“Apple bobbin’.” He turned back to study the street. What was Cade thinking, sending a seven year old out on the streets with him on his first independent run? She wasn’t ready for this.
He could only hope he was.
“When we get out there, remember the rules. Be invisible, look out for yourself, and no going back. Ever.” It was odd to hear his own voice saying the familiar words, now that he was in charge of a thieving run and not just one of the runners.
“Time to go. Just do what I do.” Ky scurried to the end of the alley. A cluster of well-dressed city dwellers passed by, followed by an old man leading a mule laden with kindling. Ky spotted his objective across the square—a fruiter’s cart—and slipped into the stream, motioning for Meli to follow.
The trick to being invisible was all a matter of timing. His gaze darted around the market place, and the necessary moves ran through his mind as he performed them. Pause for a count of two. Take three paces and duck. Turn around and study the bakery window. Four steps to the left and stop. All with the assumed casual air of an ordinary market-goer. It was simple, once you got the hang of it.
He crouched behind the fruiter’s cart, eyeing the wares. Apples, plums, pears, grapes, and cranberries, all bursting with juice and color, teetered on the lips of the baskets stacked inside the cart. Ripe for the taking.
“You ready, Meli?”
There was no answer. Ky spun around. A glimpse of red caught his eye, and he spied her standing in the middle of the square as the tide of traffic parted around her like a river skirting a rock. The oversized cloak dwarfed her small form so that only her head peeked out, staring wide eyed around her.
“Psst, Meli. Over here.” The market day symphony of tramping feet, noisy chatter, and sellers hawking their wares swallowed the hushed words as they left his lips. Ky ground his teeth together and let out a hiss of frustration.
Why can’t she pay attention?
The clatter of iron shod hooves and rattling wheels jerked his attention away. A large wagon drawn by four horses jolted toward him, piled high with soldiers, tools, and equipment—shovels, ropes, and the like.
In his mind, Ky darted through the city, marking off the gates and troop placements. This route through the Market meant the soldiers were headed toward the West gate. There had been a steady stream of soldiers coming and going through there lately, though what they found to do beside the River Adayn or out on the wild moors of the Westmark beyond was a mystery to Ky.
But wouldn’t Cade give anything to find out what they were up to?
The thought scarce crossed his mind when he spied a familiar, tall, cloaked figure gliding behind the wagon, following the same odd pattern of progression that he had used. The figure lifted its head and their eyes met, then Cade faded into the crowd.
“Hoi, get out o’ the way, girl!”
The shout sent Ky’s heart plunging to the cobblestones. Meli stood frozen in the middle of the square as the wagon bore down upon her.
“Look out!” Ky raced forward. His feet left the ground and he dove, knocking her out of the way. The wagon barreled past, wheels churning inches from their toes. Startled gasps rippled above their heads, but Ky knew from experience that the citizens of Kerby wouldn’t dare display any greater sign of disapproval toward the dark soldiers.
He picked himself up, careful not to step on the girl laying at his feet, a shapeless lump drowning beneath the folds of her enormous cloak. He gently prodded her with his finger. “You in there?”
Her head peeped out. “Is it safe?”
“Yeah, it’s safe.”
She scrambled up and threw her arms around his waist.
Ky pulled back and then gingerly patted the top of her head. “Don’t forget, we still have a job to do. Can’t go back to the Underground empty handed, now can we?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Keep your mind on the task. See that stall over there?” He pointed to a fruit and vegetable stand across the street. An apron clad farmer slept on a stool in front of the stand, feet propped up on a basket, head lolling to one side with his mouth hanging open. “That’s your target.”
Meli nodded and scurried off. Ky waited until the fruiter’s back was turned and then squirmed under the cart to watch Meli through the spokes of the wheels. She bobbed through the crowd, ducking, twisting, standing stock still, then creeping forward on silent feet as Ky had taught her. As she tiptoed past the sleeping farmer, her arm shot out, snagging an apple from the stall and concealing it in the folds of her cloak. She dropped behind a barrel of pears.
The tension eased from Ky’s forehead. He smiled when her head peeped up over the barrel and gave her a thumbs-up. Not too bad for a first timer. Little slow maybe, but not sloppy.
Boots crunched into his line of vision, and he jerked, nearly hitting his head on the underside of the cart. Through the slatted wood above, he saw the bulbous nose and pockmarked face of the fruiter. There was a great deal of thumping as the fruiter fumbled through the baskets, and then he turned back to his customer. “There you go, ma’am. Prime of the crop, just for you.”
Ky rolled to the far side of the cart and snaked his hand up over the side. Three apples and a pear
dropped down his sleeve and into the pockets sewn in his jacket before the customer left. Circling the cart on hands and knees to avoid the fruiter, Ky pocketed another four apples before moving on to the next stand where he followed the same drill.
At last, his jacket bulged around his waist like the fruiter’s barrel shaped belly. He spied Meli hunkered down against the wall of the bakery shop. Digging through his pouch, he selected a small round stone and lobbed it through the crowd. Ping. It bounced off the wall above her head. She jumped and her eyes met his.
Ky twitched his head over his shoulder, and she stumbled toward him, head bowed, and eyes down to avoid tripping on the dragging ends of her cloak.
The pent up air whooshed from Ky’s lungs as he retreated toward the alley. Soon, they would be safe in the Underground. From the looks of her cloak, Meli had done well for her first time out on the streets. Cade would be pleased.
A dark figure wandered into his line of vision, and Ky dropped behind the corner of a fishmonger’s stall. He bent down and pretended to be examining his dusty foot, while the dark soldier passed by, leading a sweat soaked horse. The soldier studied a scrap of parchment in his hand, pausing here and there to push his light hair out of his eyes and peer up and down the street as if he were unsure of his direction.
Beyond the soldier, Meli toiled on, struggling beneath the weight of her morning’s take. A warning cry rose in Ky’s throat and dashed against his teeth without any sound coming out. Meli’s small. She won’t be noticed.
Not if she kept her wits about her.
The soldier approached the little girl without appearing to see her. In a moment, he would pass by and she would be safe. Just then, Meli tripped on her cloak, smacked into the soldier’s arms, and fell backward to the ground.
An apple rolled from beneath her cloak and bumped against the soldier’s feet.
8
Ky caught his breath as the soldier bent over—to pick up the apple, he thought. Instead, the man’s hand settled on Meli’s arm. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She scrambled back. There was a ripping sound and her cloak tore off, trapped under the soldier’s foot. Half a dozen apples spilled out, thumping on the cobblestones.
The soldier’s face crinkled. He stooped and lifted a red apple to the sunlight.
“Run,” Ky muttered. “Can’t bluff this one. You have to run!”
Comprehension flooded the soldier’s face. He stepped forward, pointing a finger at Meli. “Thief!”
She bolted and his hand descended on empty air. His shouts chased her across the square, awakening the farmer she had robbed, alerting the crowd. Terror painted on her face, Meli flew past Ky’s hiding place, eyes darting, searching for escape. Searching for him. The farmer and soldier lurched after her, followed a moment later by two more soldiers drawn by the shouts.
Ky’s hand drifted to his sling. He had to help her. Had to . . . But the rules of the Underground pounded through his brain, arresting the action. Look out for yourself. Cade would say the rules came before everything. They were the only way to survive on the streets. Dizzier would pound him on the back and encourage him to slip away. Say he was finally getting it.
It was the way of the Underground.
Hang the Underground! Ky burst from the shadow of the fishmonger’s stall, fingers flying to load his sling. He barreled through the onlookers, seeking a clear shot.
“Hey! Over here!”
The rearmost soldier twisted around just in time to catch the sling-stone on his forehead beneath the beak of his helmet. He fell flat, as if he had run smack against a wall. The clatter of his armor on the cobblestone brought the other soldiers and the farmer to a halt.
“That’s right!” Ky loosed another stone, and it cracked off the light-haired soldier’s breastplate. “You can’t catch me, you foul-smelling, bumble-headed, thick-nosed cave bats!”
A thrill of excitement coursed through his veins as the soldiers turned from Meli and charged him, weapons drawn. He continued slinging. One soldier dropped his spear and clutched a hand to his chest. Two more stones felled the farmer with a double blow to the stomach. Then the peril of Ky’s position settled in his chest, and he took off at a sprint.
No chance of disappearing now. The patterns of invisibility required stealth and precision—things hard to achieve on the run. So he led the soldiers on a merry chase. Up and down the square, in and out of shop doors, brushing past begrimed laborers and pushing through forests of bustled skirts and dapper trousers.
But the light-haired soldier refused to be shaken. Ky could hear the breath grunting in the man’s throat. Time for a change in tactics.
A wine merchant’s shop with a mountain of barrels stacked out front was just ahead. Ky veered toward it, scaled the stack like a sailor in the rigging, and hopped down the other side, knocking over a whole row behind him. He dropped to his knees and slid under the belly of an old cart horse. A chorus of furious shouts and clanging armor split the air as his pursuers tripped over the barrels and crashed.
He nipped into a side street, racing as fast as his legs would carry him through the maze of alleys and byways. Three lefts brought him back into the square, and he crouched beside the fishmonger’s stall, watching the soldiers hurtle into the side street he had just vacated, calling curses down on his head.
He slipped into the crowd. By now, Meli should be safe on her way to the Underground.
At the far end of the alley, Ky halted in front of a stone etched with the hawk symbol and scanned the horizon to make sure no one was in sight. He slipped inside the concealed trap door, lowered it back into place, and was instantly enveloped in a tight hug.
“Ky!” Meli squealed.
Warmth crept through his chilled limbs. He gulped and strove to steady his voice. “Shh, not so loud. We’re too close to the streets. C’mon, we need to get back.”
As they neared the heart of the Underground and he felt the heat of the fire on his face, he dug four apples out of his pockets and slipped them into her cloak.
Cade met them at the storeroom entrance, arms folded across his chest, still clad in the cloak he had worn aboveground. Black mud stained the cloak hem, his trouser knees, and covered his boots.
That sort of muddiness didn’t come from harvesting in the city.
Ky simply nodded at Cade in passing, concealing his curiosity, and proceeded to empty his and Meli’s pockets into the proper baskets. At the sight of the four apples he pulled from her cloak, Meli’s eyes grew round, but Ky pressed his lips together and shook his head, and she kept quiet.
Eleven apples and five pears. Not bad considering they were the fruits of his solo labor. Not good either, since Cade would suppose it was his and Meli’s combined work.
He turned from the basket to find Cade staring at him. Swallowing hard, Ky walked over to him. Better to face the lion and get it over with. “Oi, Cade.”
“Ky.” Cade nodded. “So, how did he do?”
Ky felt his forehead wrinkling. Cade must have made a mistake. He had been assigned a little sister. She had done fine. More or less. Then he realized that Cade was looking past him, at someone behind. He twisted around and met Dizzier’s mocking gaze.
“Eh, not too bad,” Dizzier drawled. “If only he could remember to look out for himself, like I been tryin’ to drill into that thick skull of his for the past three years.”
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re talking about what happened with the wagon, I already know about it. It was stupid, but excusable. Aside from drawing a little attention to himself, he caused no harm.”
Cade standing up for him—that was a rare thing. Ky stood straighter, thrusting his shoulders back, until he realized what Dizzier’s words meant. “You were spying on me?”
Dizzier waved the accusation aside. “Naw, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the fool jumped out of a perfectly safe h
iding place to draw the dark soldiers away from the little girl.”
“Aw, c’mon! It wasn’t exactly like that.” Ky stopped as a scowl spread across Cade’s face. “Well, what did you expect me to do, walk away?”
Cade’s hands tightened into fists. “To the Ring.”
Ky swung the short sword in an experimental slash. It whooshed through the air as he brought it around to guard his head, then his lower legs. The sword felt dull and clumsy in his hand. Lifeless. Like every other sword he had ever fought with.
Scarce five minutes had elapsed since Cade announced that Ky was to meet him in combat, and the Underground had already set up the rope barriers that formed the Ring around the central fire pit, provided Ky with a borrowed weapon, and gathered all the runners to witness the spectacle.
Paddy squeezed Ky’s hand. “Good luck. You’re going t’ need it, laddy-boyo.” He retreated into the crowd of runners lining the Ring.
Ky sighted down the sword at Cade limbering up within arm’s reach and gulped down a ragged breath. The son of a swordsmith, Cade insisted all the Underground runners learn to handle weapons. He held a weekly training session in the Ring where he and the older boys assisted the younger runners with mastering basic fighting techniques.
Cade was also fond of using the Ring as a form of punishment. Anyone caught disobeying the rules or endangering the Underground was sure to be summoned to face him in the Ring. It was a good deterrent.
No one wanted to fight Cade.
Clang.
Cade’s blade hammered into the crossguard of Ky’s sword.
He started and nearly dropped his blade.
An unnerving twinkle danced in Cade’s eyes. He fell back into position, sword in his left hand, right arm raised. “You ready?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Dizzier and said, “Five minutes.”
Ky stifled a groan. Thirty seconds—let alone five minutes—in the Ring with Cade meant bruised shins, cut and broken fingers, and wounded pride to boot. Still, he would give it the best shot he could. He fell into the middle guard position, content to let Cade take the offensive. Mindful of the children on the edge of the Ring, and equally careful to avoid the fire ring in the middle, Ky circled to the left.
Orphan's Song Page 7