No More Than Pen and Ink

Underfoot went back to watching the crowd. The booth to her right was selling forged items, knives, metal bits and pieces, tools and cutlery made from iron. It seemed to being a decent amount of trade. The booth to her left seemed to sell (and buy she noticed after watching for a while) just about anything. The counter near her showed cloth items, fabric, jewelry, carvings, a strange round device with little arms that moved across its face, and a stack of black and white discs. She had no idea what half the items were. She watched the dealer, a short man wearing an outlandishly bright vest, belt and sash that distracted from his dingy once-white pants and shirt. He spoke with a loud voice that she could hear even over the crowd and lots of wide sweeping gestures. She didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying, it mostly involved describing the items he had, or trying to sell them. She started watching his customers. They were a very odd group, some of them looked quite poor and brought items that appeared to be of some worth. Others were dressed decently well. One of them even looked vaguely familiar. This man was wearing a decent grey jacket with a clean, new white shirt underneath, a black hat with a stiff brim and had a bag slung over his shoulder. His face was clean and his hair fresh-cut above his ears. He was talking quietly to the seller, he reached into his bag and pulled out. . . the small mechanical bird that Farstrider had showed her the other day.

It was then the world came together and she recognized the man who was doing the selling. It was Lightfinger, all cleaned up. For a moment she just stood their, outraged, her mind processing. And then she flew out of her hiding place, swinging her fists at him and hitting him blindly, her eyes tearing up. “Your nothing but the thief. You took it from him! He was nice to us and you stole from him. How could you! How could you!” She shouted at him. Except it all came out in a torrent confused with sobs.

He seemed truly surprised for a moment, fending her off instinctively. And then he collected himself. “It’s not what you think, Chipmouse.” He said, he caught her in his arms and held her so that she couldn’t struggle. “My little sister.” He said to the dealer. “She gets a little excitable, and sometimes doesn’t understand what is going on around her very well.”

“All the same.” The seller said, nodding his head to indicate that Lightfinger should look over his shoulder. He did, swore, thanked the man and carried Underfoot off into the crowd. She was still squirming and struggling. “He was nice to us and you just took from him! How could you!” She continued to sob, getting quieter.

“Shh,” he hissed in her ear. “Or we’ll get picked up by the city guard.”

She turned to glare up at him. “That’s what happens to thieves, isn’t it?”

He relaxed a little. “Farstrider gave it to you. Since you wouldn’t take it I took to to sell. Even if you couldn’t stand to see that bird you could stand to have a new dress and some fresh food in your stomach.”

She felt a little foolish. Her anger was subsiding. When he put it that way it made perfect sense. “He gave it to you?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, he gave it to me.”

She felt horrible. “I’m sorry Lightfinger. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I just saw you and it. . . and I assumed. I’m so sorry!” She started to cry again, this time from shame.

He shifted his grip so that he was no longer restraining her and patted her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s all right.” He said. He slipped down an alleyway and set her down. Checking to see if there were any guards after them. “No harm done.” He said, pulling her into a hug and petting her hair. “Just remember that I’m trying to help you.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You okay now?”

She nodded again.

He reached into his bag, and pulled out a piece of bread and cheese which he gave to her.

“You troubling that girl there?” A deep gravely voice broke the lull created as Underfoot devoured the food, tears still trailing down her face.

Lightfinger spun quickly to face the newcomer, a weathered man with scars on his face and dirty matted black hair falling down his back. His clothes were a ragged collection: shirt, tunic, vest and at least two different lengths of clothing, all of which seemed to have lost all traces of color. He was picking his black teeth with a rusty knife and tapping a heavy staff against the cobblestones. Underfoot noticed a couple pale faces peering around the corner behind the man, both Brightgrin and Clover were there, Brightgrin motioning for Underfoot to make a break for it while Lightfinger was distracted, and Clover had an uncharacteristic look of concentration on her face. Underfoot shook her head.

“No,” Lightfinger said. “Everything is all right. Isn’t it Chipmouse.” He said, looking back at her.

She nodded her assent. “He’s my brother.”

“Well then. That’ll be all.” The strange man said and walked back up the alley and turned the corner, without even glancing at the two children peeking around the corner. Brightgrin and Clover approached cautiously. “We were worried when we saw him drag you off like that.” Brightgrin said to Underfoot, casting a wary eye at Lightfinger. So we went to get the Beggar King and asked him to help you.”

Clover nodded, once again at Underfoot’s side. This time her hand caught Underfoot’s sleeve, the cat wound itself between her legs.

“The Beggar King?” Lightfinger asked, crouching so that he was more on their level.

Brightgrin nodded, looking pleased “The Beggar King is a legend. He helps beggars, particularly helpless ones. Children in particular. He watches over them and he makes sure they aren’t mistreated. When children are mistreated, or beggars are beaten he comes to punish those who are responsible. He keeps us safe.”

“I see.” Lightfinger said, looking a little unsettled. “Well, you have nothing to fear from me. Any friend of Chipmouse is a friend of mine.” He smiled reassuringly.

Brightgrin still looked a little wary, “You’ll have to earn our trust.”

“I look forward to it.” Lightfinger said with a bow. When he straightened he had a thoughtful look on his face, a few coins appeared in his hand. “Would you mind keeping an eye on the Library tower on Greenhand Street for me?”

Brightgrin’s attention focused straight on the coins in Lightfinger’s hand. “What you want that for?” He asked, tempering his greed with caution.

“There’s someone I need to talk to. Something I need to see in there. I like to know what is going on before I go into a place, you know what I mean?” Lightfinger smiled smoothly.

Brightgrin made a knowledgeable smile. “It might be a few more coins if you want to know who comes when?”

A coin disappeared from Lightfinger’s hand.

“Okay, okay!” Brightgrin said, making the coin reappear, his hand flashed out. A coin dropped into it.

“The rest is for when you come back.” Lightfinger said. “Now go on.”

The beggar-boy darted away. Underfoot expected Clover to follow him, but she stayed right where she was. She kept glancing at Lightfinger, a shadow crossing her face every time she did. Lightfinger stared after Brightgrin for a while, he shook his head slowly. “I remember when I was just like him.” He said. “Except my ‘Beggar King’ was a drunken father. . . ” He noticed Clover standing next to Underfoot. “I see you found yourself a friend.” He grinned. “Let’s get back home before it gets completely dark. I have a new dress for you.”

The dress wasn’t so much ‘new’ as in one piece and still identifiably intended to be blue, though it was faded to a soft blue-grey, which Underfoot found to be quite pleasing. After changing into it she felt completely different. The cloth moved smoothly over her skin, a sensation she had forgotten after wearing the same soiled dress for days. This dress also reached below her knees. She presented herself to Lightfinger, who seemed somewhat impressed. He cocked his head sideways and his face curled up in an unreadable smile. “It certainly is a vast improvement.”

When they settled down to sleep Underfoot found Clover bedding down at her feet. “You don’t need to be so close to me.” Underfoot said.

Clover shook her head.

“I don’t know who you think I am.” Underfoot said, looking at the little girl. “I’m nobody. Nothing, just another girl. You shouldn’t have to follow me around.”

Clover just sat there. Her lips didn’t move at all, but Underfoot heard her clearly. “But I do.”

The next day Underfoot spent following Lightfinger around, with Clover in tow, as he went various places around the city. She lingered outside a tavern while he went in to discuss some business or other with a man with a bald head and a bad rash. And then she went with him to several stores, where he bought things he quickly tucked into his pockets. And finally she found herself outside the Library tower on Greenhand Street. The tower was not the tallest thing on the street, which was one of the richer streets, and home to several guild-halls (as Lightfinger explained to her as they approached).

“In that tower is a book. A book that can teach me how to use my magic better.” He told her. “But the only way to get it is to steal it. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to be upset at me. And because I need your help.”

She nodded, it seemed reasonable. She didn’t want to let him down again like she had yesterday. Though she was a little worried about the stealing part. “They won’t just let you look at it?”

He shook his head. “Not without taking me and locking me up just because I can do magic.” He said.

“But doing magic isn’t illegal.” Underfoot said.

“It principle it isn’t. But you know about the ‘academy’.”

She nodded. “They take people who can do magic and teach them so they don’t hurt other people.”

“That’s where you are wrong. The academy is where the government sends normal mages under the pretense of teaching them to control their powers. But they do something else. They take away their freedom. They take your name and use you as a tool. I don’t want to be a tool. I want to be free. I don’t want the nobles making me do things I don’t want to do.” Lightfinger said.

“So you are telling me that we are doing something that might get us sent to jail so that you can be free?” She asked.

“We won’t go to jail.” He said. “Not if we do it right.”

Brightgrin approached the corner where they were standing and stood waiting expectantly until Lightfinger produced the coins again. He snatched them quickly and tucked them away. “A’right.” He said. “Two guys went into the tower early today. Came out a few hours later. The tower itself appears to be unguarded, though there is a fancy rune drawn on the door. The lights were all off last night, and are all off now. I don’t think anyone is there.” He said.

Lightfinger nodded. “Very good.”

He looked at the tower himself. So did Underfoot. There was indeed a rune on the door, but it didn’t attract her attention. The walls themselves were crawling with runes, just like the walls outside the city. Except that these were all the same symbol over and over, where the city walls had been long complicated strings that didn’t seem to have any pattern.

“I think the one on the door is just for show.” Lightfinger said. “But there is something, else magical around the tower. I figured the whole place would be warded. That’s why I brought this.” He pulled a necklace with a key on it from a bag, it too was glowing with criss-crossed runes that Underfoot couldn’t read. “It’s a pass-key that allows the penetration of magical barriers. I just hope my source is right in that it will work.” He handed it to Underfoot, she almost dropped it out of surprise. He knelt down. “I’m going to need you to climb through the window around the side of the building and unlock the building from the inside.

“Me?” She said.

“I won’t fit, and I can lift you up to the window.” He smiled. “Beside, I know you can do it.”

She felt a warmth in her chest. She could be helpful. The fact that she was involved in a robbery melted to the background. She would do whatever she could to make sure this went well. She clutched the key in her hand and then put the cord around her neck, the key bumped against her breastbone reminding her that she would have to succeed.

They began to move after dark. Lightfinger motioning for Underfoot to stay close as he walked up the street. When he saw that no-one was coming he motioned and they quickly dashed to the side of the tower, into a small alley. In the dark they would be nearly indistinguishable against the dark stone of the tower. The tower loomed over them. And Underfoot felt that the glow from the runes should have been more than enough to see them by, but to her surprise the light of the runes did not reflect on any of their faces. But it didn’t matter, no-one was around.

“Ready?” Lightfinger asked, cupping his hands to make a stirrup for her feet.

Underfoot nodded, looking down at Clover. “Stay here Clover. You can’t come up here with me.” Clover nodded. Underfoot looked up at the tower one more time and then put her foot in Lightfinger’s hands, placed her hands on his shoulder and she rose to the level of the window. It was a small glass construction, maybe two feet high and two feet wide with an arch above it. The runes moved along the window. She clutched the key around her neck and closed her eyes, hoping that it would allow her to pass through the barrier unnoticed. She reached out and touched the window, hoping that it would open. It shifted at her touch. She opened her eyes and found that the window had opened completely, and that the ward was still in place. She looked down. Lightfinger nodded. And she climbed through the window. She found herself on a spiral staircase that was completely dark. She went down the stairs a short way and found herself in a small entry chamber with a thick carpet and two chairs. Unlit candles sat in candlesticks on either side of the door. The door was large, and barred with a wooden cross-beam. She lifted it gingerly, not sure that she could make it move. But her strength was just enough. It took some effort, but it moved smoothly out of the way. She then opened the door. Lightfinger and Clover were both in before she could blink and the door was closed again. Lightfinger left the crossbeam off to the side, so that they could get out easily.

“Well done,” Lightfinger said. “Now to find the book.”

Lightfinger started to move into the main chamber on that floor, but Clover started up the steps. Lightfinger paused for a moment. then he shrugged. “You take her and look upstairs. I’ll start down here and work my way up.”

“What is the book called?” Underfoot asked.

“The Fundamentals of Magic” He said.

She nodded and followed Clover up the stairs. “Where are you going?” She asked quietly.

Clover pointed. A doorway. Beyond which was a library much larger than Sternbrow’s. Underfoot smiled to herself and ran forward. It was just like the old days. Sneaking around a library in the dark. Except that this time things would be worse if she got caught. And better if she didn’t. She realized. She looked around the library for a moment. Thinking how hard it was going to be to find one book in the midst of all of these.

But one of the books was glowing, runes running along its cover. And it was sitting on a small round table next to a chair. She looked at the cover. It read “The Fundamentals of Magic: A Primer of the Planes” She reached out to touch it.

And the world collapsed into a tunnel around her.

<-Previous Next->

The world came into focus all at once. The blackness of sleep being washed away by the dim light of sunlight all too quickly. She had a headache. A big headache. And even the dim light was enough to make her very unhappy. She groaned a little. And tried to get up. She had to clean Sternbrow’s study! He would be so unhappy if it wasn’t done before he got back! What was she supposed to do. She was already halfway across the room when she realized that she wasn’t in any of the rooms at Sternbrow’s house. Indeed she wasn’t in any proper room at all. She had been put to bed atop a morass of worn and torn rags and rotting straw. It was lumpy and dirty, but it was obviously more comfortable than the raw dirt and piles of garbage that made up the other furnishings. It wasn’t a room, it was an alcove made by the hap-hazard construction. Apparently there had once been a street here. And then someone had built a second story that crossed the narrow street and after a while that had been closed off itself by another building. Leaving a small 1-room alcove beneath the edge of one building and bounded on three sides by stone walls. The other side opened into a narrow alleyway. The boy who had dragged her to the church earlier was leaning against a wall counting a stack of silver and gold coins. And there were a dozen or so other children, almost as dirty and thin as she was arrayed all around, stashed in nooks, perched on ledges and bits of garbage. They were all different sizes, some older than others. But all of them had one thing in common, they were all looking at her. One of the younger ones tapped the boy she had met before on the arm and gestured at Underfoot.

“Why if it ain’t miss the’atrics herself.” He said, a huge grin swallowing his face. “If that wasn’t a marvelous performance I don’t know what is. You had the Duke eating out of yer hand!”

She looked at him, touched her head and whimpered softly. “What happened?”

“I dunno.” He said. “He held out the coins, you took them and then collapsed an he vanished. Not that tha’s all that strange. I figured I’d get ya outta there ‘fore anyone else took the money.”

She sat up quickly, memory flooding back, but still confused. Her head hurt more. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again a pair of bright blue eyes were obscuring her view. She skittered backwards instinctively to get away from the thing that was in her face and realized that it was only a small child. A girl in rags like hers, though a few years younger. She smiled at the girl warily. The girl seemed oddly clean in the filth of the alleyway. Her skin was white where Underfoot’s was darkened by dirt, her hair shining gold and her eyes. . .

“Well I’m impressed. Clover likes you,” the street-boy appeared over the girl’s shoulder and knelt beside her, facing Underfoot. “She don’t like many people.” The boy flashed a smile. “Means your safe.”

Underfoot looked at the girl and tried to smile as well. But she just wasn’t very good at the whole smiling thing, she thought it came off rather poorly.

The boy chuckled. “Say Clover, what you say we call her Magpie, ’cause she brings in what’s shiny.” He shook the bag of coins he had procured. Seemingly in a very good mood.

Clover shook her head, keeping her eyes focused on Underfoot the whole time, her wispy blond hair dancing in the slight breath of air stirred by the motion.

The boy frowned a little, and looked at Underfoot intently. She flinched at his unwavering attention, which made him smile again. “okay, how about Rabbit, cause she acts scared all the time?”

Clover shook her head again. Underfoot spoke up. “They call me Underfoot. . . Or Chipmouse,” she remembered.

The boy grinned and Clover just stood there. “I’m called Brightgrin.” He said. “I don’t need to explain that one. And Clover, she’s just lucky.”

“Is she always like this?” Underfoot asked.

“Not usually no.” Brightgrin said, his grin vanishing in concern. “She gets funny around some people. I don’t know why. Hey Clover.” He reached out and touched the girl’s arm. “Clover? You want to go play with the other kids?” She shrugged, still staring at Underfoot.

Brightgrin looked around for a moment and then stepped away. When he came back he was carrying a tortoise-shell cat. He handed the cat to Clover, who took it and continued staring at Underfoot.

Underfoot stared back. And after a moment she realized that the cat was staring at her too, it’s silver eyes locked on her, tail twitching.

They stayed frozen like that for a while, with Brightgrin making the odd comment trying to break the tension. Until he finally got around to suggesting that they head back out into the city. Underfoot readily agreed. She needed to head back to where she would meet Lightfinger anyway.

This truly was a strange city. Underfoot thought as they walked along. Brightgrin rambled on about various things, how they managed to get by in the city, various locations and their benefits for begging and other such things that Underfoot couldn’t bring herself to care about. And all the time Clover and the cat continued to follow them. Underfoot was begining to feel lost in this city. She had no idea where she was or how to get back to where she started. She was begining to worry she wouldn’t make it back to the warehouse. She didn’t want to disappoint Lightfinger after all the good that he had done for her. And she was about to ask Brightgrin to take her back when he turned around and flashed his brightest of grins.

“And here we are. One of the best spots for making money.” He said and pulled her out into a crowded street.

She had already been feeling overwhelmed by the city, but this was something completely different. So many people, towering over her, bumping into her. Dirty beggers and peasants mixed together with more well-dressed citizens. Women, children. Everyone seemed to be in this single street, which was admittedly wider than the rest, but that fact was compensated for by stalls and stores lining both sides of the streets and the hawkers with trays of merchandise pushing through the ranks of people, trying to find someone to buy. From her position in the midst of the crowd she couldn’t make out what anyone was selling; she had to concentrate too hard to merely avoid being knocked down. Brightgrin didn’t seem to have any such problem. He slipped and wove through the crowd like a little fish weaving through the holes of a fishing net. The jostling crowd seemed to last forever, but at last she managed to pull towards the edge of the crowd, near an alley-mouth where no booth had been set up. She quickly managed to find a place to shelter her from the crowd, a untended barrel full of water made the perfect spot.

“This place is insane.” She said, peering around a barrel at the crowd she had just left.

“It’s magnificant.” Brightgrin said, counting the coins from several purses.

Underfoot couldn’t even bring herself to chide him for stealing. She just went back to her wide-eyes staring at the crowd. It was much better watching it from the edge, where she was now that it had been caught up in the mad tumble of it all. She actually had time to process the people that went by, rather than being struck by and impression of a knee, or suddenly made aware of a solid boot on her toes. She could now see that there were not as many richly dressed people as she had seen at the church. This was obviously a more ‘common’ gathering place. Where trade took place. She saw some men wearing patterned clothing that matched the colors of the nobility she had seen earlier, but with less manifest wealth. And then it came to her; the nobility would send their servants down to the market to get what they needed rather then mingle with the commoners themselves. But didn’t they worry that the servants would run off with their money? She also saw several men clad entirely in metal: she had never seen a man in full armor before. They stood near the edges of the crowd, looking over the masses. She wondered what they were for until she saw two of them push through the crowd towards a disturbance and pluck two men apart with liberal application of the cudgels they carried. She wondered where they were taken too, and if the same thing happened to thieves.

From this closer position she could see that the booths on either side of  her had not been hastily constructed, nor had they been constructed to be dismantled or moved, as the booths that were set up during the yearly arrival of the travelling market back at Eldale. These were constructed to last, more open-air shops than market booths. She turned to Brightgrin to ask him how they managed to support a market all the time. But he had already vanished back into the crowd. So instead she asked Clover, who she had completely forgotten about in the mad rush of the crowd. Clover shrugged.

“Is it always like this?” Underfoot asked.

Clover tilted her head from side to side with a little shrug.

<-Previous Next->

Underfoot woke up quickly to find Lightfinger tugging on her shoulder. It was still dark. “It is time to go, little one.” He said, he had the bag already over his shoulder and had whisked the blanket off of her as soon as she was awake. He had it folded and tucked away before she was on her feet. Underfoot could hear the sounds of workers on the far end of the Warehouse, Lightfinger tapped his mouth and made a sign indicating that she should keep quiet and follow him. She looked up at him, surprised. And then followed him back out the hole in the back wall and under the fence.

“Today,” he said. “I will try to make some friends and maybe pick up a few necessities. We’ll be sleeping here again tonight. See if you can find something to do.” He sized her up. “I might look in to getting you some better clothes so you will be somewhat more presentable.” And he whirled off, he had vanished before she could even protest.

She had never had free time before, and here she found herself in the middle of a strange city by herself, without anything she was supposed to be doing or anything that she knew she wanted to be doing. She stood there for a while, just looking around, wondering what to do with herself. She was a little worried that if she wandered too far she would get lost. But her innate curiosity and the growing sense of restlessness and boredom caught up with that fear and surpassed it. She wandered off into the city.

Apparently they had ended up in a more trade-oriented part of the city, most of the buildings were warehouses and manufacturing plants. Smoke rolled out of tall chimneys in some of the huge buildings, and large carts rolled down the street. Often she found herself jostled from side to side by the people bustling to get too and from their places of work in various plants. The prominent smells were those of burning wood, melting metal and rushing people. The streets were crowded and she had to dodge around the traffic. She was a little hassled, and found herself resting with her back against a stone wall where she wouldn’t be in danger of getting run over for a while.

As she was standing there a hand touched her shoulder. She turned and saw that the hand belonged to a dirty boy who looked to be about the same age as she was though he was a good six inches taller. “Watcha up to?” He said, flashing a smoothly friendly grin.

She jumped a little backing away from him. “Staying out of the way.” She said, her voice tense with surprise.

“You’re new to the city, aintcha?” The boy said, cocking his head and looking at her funny.

“Yes,” she said biting her lip..

“So ya need som’ne to show ya the ropes,” he said, taking her hand and starting to pull her along. “Y’ll need to know how to make it in the city.”

“But I need to be back here tonight.” she said. “Well back there”. She pointed.

The boy smiled. “Don’t you worry about that, mate. We’ll take care of ya. You’ll be better off fer knowin how things work.” He pulled her away.

Underfoot wasn’t sure if she really could trust him, but he offered to help her and he seemed to know what he was doing. Even if he didn’t seem capable of talking properly. And it seemed he would keep hounding her until she went with him. “Okay.” she said

The boy dragged her out into the stream of traffic, pulling her along through the crowd, ducking under horses. He was almost run over by a couple wagons. He accidentally bumped into one of the more richly dressed people and stumbled on, calling curses after him as if it was the other man’s fault. Afterwards Underfoot noticed that he was tossing a bag of coins from hand to hand feeling its weight before he tucked it into his jacket.

“You just stole from that man.” Underfoot said, a touch of horror in her voice.

The boy looked back at her. “There ain’t much else we can do round here to survive.” He said with a shrug. “don’t worry. you’ll get the hang of things after a while.”

She kept her mouth closed. She had never seen someone steal before, but the books in Sternbrow’s house had spoken a lot about ethics and what was right and wrong. She had thought that the ideals in the books were good. And Sternbrow had railed on about thieves who stole things in the village. And she had heard about the punishments that they faced. But she was just now starting to think of things differently. There really wasn’t much of a reason not too. And here she was in the middle of a city that wouldn’t give her a second thought. And with her stomach grumbling, no where to stay, and no idea of how to get a better job, she found that she didn’t really have much objection to the idea of stealing. But the concept of money was merely theoretical to her. She didn’t understand why people handed each other pieces of copper, silver or gold and expected the other person to be willing to part with goods or services to earn them. But since it did work. . . she thought she could figure it out. “So you don’t have a job?” She asked.

“I has a job,” he said. “I per-suade people to part with their hard-earned cash to care fer us poor chillen. Even ifen they doesn’t want to” he said, flashing a charming grin which was missing a front tooth. “I outgrew begging a while back, it was too easy and less rewarding.”

“And less dangerous.” Underfoot added.

“Well, your’re just as likely to get beaten or robbed either way. Its just if you’re a thief you might get beaten by the guards, but you’ll also get better at getting away from those that would do you harm. You’ll soon learn the difference if you’re gonna live down here on the streets.” He said. “The whole world is against us, but we do our best to get by.” He said. “An ifen you stick with me, I’ll give you all the help I can.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because thas the way it works, I help you get started. I teach you how it works and then you help the rest of us ta keep from starvin.” he said. “And because you look like you wouldn’t last a day without help.”

She pulled away, stopping in the middle of the alley where she was. “I can take care of myself.” She crossed her arms and turned away. “And its not like I need your help, Lig. . . ” she hesitated for a moment. “My brother is taking care of me.”

“And he lives on the streets too?” the boy asked, coming over to her and putting an arm over her shoulder as she tried to shy away.

“He’s trying to find work.” She said softly.

“Ya wanna learn how to survive here?” He asked, looking her in the eyes. “When yer. . .Brother cuts you loose?” He asked, keenly cutting through her attempt at lying. “First lesson: you’re gonna have to learn how to lie better. The key is confidence, commit to whatever you say and other people will be more likely to believe you. Show the slightest hesitation or change your tone a little and you’ll be found out.”

She lowered her eyes and thought about it for a while. “I’m not sure I can do it.” She said at last.

The boy gave her a quick grin. “Ain’t no-one can’t lie good without some practice.” He patted her on the back and then pulled her down the street. His pace picking up. “Second lesson, and ya ain’t gonna need much teachin’ on this one: lookin’ sad an’ dirty earns money ifn you know how to do it right. Now I need ya to jus sit where I show ya and look poor an dirty. A lil cryin’ or beggin’ can get enough to make the difference between liven and dien.” He pulled her out into a brightly lit street that was wider and cleaner than any of the others that Underfoot had ever seen. There were people in fine, colorful clothing making their way towards a large building at the far end of the street. He led her to the foot of the wide staircase leading up into the building. “This’ere.” He said. “Is church. Rich people go here to make themselves feel better ’bout themselves. When they leave they’re more like to give money. But they only go twice a week. So ya gotta get it while ya can. So sit here and look sad. Hold this out when someone comes close.” And with that he pushed her down at the foot of the stairs and disappeared in the crowd before she could ask any questions. How was she supposed to get people to give her anything. She was worthless. No-one would want to give her anything.

Underfoot had read about church in Sternbrow’s library. It had always seemed like a far-away concept. The Outsider’s had no sway out beyond edge. Sure they were still worshiped. But that was so far from the hub that no-one ever saw any benefit to it. She wondered how it worked. Supposedly one gave money to the priests who used their magics to make requests of the outsiders on your behalf. And sometimes the things you asked for happened. She looked up at the front of the church. The massive stone structure was decorated with ornate sculptures and runic inscriptions glowed around the edges. It was certainly an impressive building. And something about it made her feel uneasy. But she was supposed to stay. So she did. She watched the people as they entered the building. None of them seemed to pay her any attention. Some were richly dressed, others only well dressed. But none of the people who approached the temple wore tatters or dirty clothing. Which made perfect sense to her. If the outsiders were going to help anyone it wouldn’t be a dirt-poor peasant.

It only took a few moments before the first coin fell into her hands. Surprised she looked up to find a old lady smiling down at her. “Buy yourself a new dress.” The old lady said, cupping Underfoot’s hand. “You look like you could use it.”

Underfoot didn’t know what to do, she looked down at the shining silver piece. Coin was as wide as her wrist. She sat there staring at it for a while. When a hand reached down and grabbed it from her.

“Good job.” The boy who had brought her here said. “Now don’t go showin’ it to everyone. They’ll see you have money so they won’t want to give you any more. When ya get some tuck it away. Also keeps other beggers from stealing it from you or beating you for it.”

He disappeared with the money, again leaving Underfoot with questions she wanted to ask.

There were indeed other beggers around. A few dirty souls lingered in ally-ways. None of them seemed brave enough to come as close as she was. But Underfoot didn’t really consider that. She was just happy that they left her alone. The trickle into the building slowed to a stop. The wrong feeling that Underfoot had grew stronger. She looked up at the building again. The bright runes on the side of the building pulsed with a shadowed light. Her heart began to race. She felt cold run down her veins, chilling her fingers, toes and spreading tendrils towards her chest. She wanted to run away from the building, but she couldn’t. She felt herself locked in place. Unable to move out of pure fear. The runes continued to pulse with inner light.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but it seemed to last forever. When at last it was over she just collapsed at the foot of the stairs, gasping, still unable to move. The doors of the church swung open and people began to leave the building. Mostly they looked a little concerned by the fact that there was a sickly dirt-covered girl lying at the bottom of the steps and moved to walk as far away from her as they could. But a number of them tossed coins at her. But she still couldn’t pick them up. Everyone who came out of that building felt wrong, they all had an undefinable greyness around their edges.

One of the richly dressed men came up to her, in contrast to the greyness of the others he burned with a brilliant light. He helped her to sit up and offered her something to drink. The sip brought her back completely. It burned on it’s way down. “There you go.” He said. “We can’t have a poor girl dieing in front of the church.” He said this with an ironic smile as he helped her into a sitting position.

Some in the crowd came close, and with deference to the man supporting her pressed a large coin into her hand. And then there was a clattering as coins fell near her.

The shining man smiled down at her. His hair was medium length and sandy blond, he wore a neatly trimmed beard and light golden robes. But those were nothing to the golden shine of his skin and the bright blue light of his eyes. He smiled at her. “Are you all right?” He asked.

She nodded dumbly, still unable to talk from the twin shocks of the clenching darkness and now this burning light. She looked away to let her eyes clear. She had never seen anyone so. . . full of energy. And he was touching her. She twisted out of his grasp. He didn’t move, but still, despite her desire to run she found herself locked in place by the shear radiance that projected itself from this man. At last she managed to get ahold of her voice. “Thank you.” She kind of squeaked, and bowed. Again trying to move away.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The man said, holding out a hand which now inexplicably held all the coins that had scattered as his feet. “Go on. Take it.” He said.

She felt a force compelling her to come forward and take the offering. She had not seen the man move an inch, had not seen the coins leave their places on the ground, but suddenly they were in his hand and no longer laying all over the smooth cobblestones. The other church-goers were dispersing. Without any word, the nobility all gave intrigued glances at her but they didn’t linger. As if there were some force driving them away in opposition to their natural curiosity. She reached out and took the coins. As she did so her hand touched the warm skin of the man in front of her. She felt a spark leap from his hand into her and shoot down her arm. And then the world exploded in a wash of light.

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The city of edge. the farthest outpost of civilization out from the hub. Sintra was the only nation of any power in the known world anymore. Edge was the farthest recognized outpost of Sintra out from that center of power. Nobody really knew what was beyond Edge though occasionally people came out from beyond, and if they did, they often settled in Edge or sometimes worked their way closer to the hub, but no one closer than Edge cared about anything farther out. It was just barbaric out there as far as they were concerned. They told tales of tribal warfare, cannibalistic peoples and sun-worshipers that happened past Edge. While those things might happen in some far remote part of the world, the cities a ways from the edge had taken their cue from Sintran ideals. They strove to be civilized, for the most part. Some of them trying their hardest to catch the attention of the inner cities, if they could do that they would have more power in the outer area. It was hard to imagine anything different happening to the cities. They wanted to be like the shining light that was Sintra, they wanted the power, the glory. . . and some of them even worshiped the people from the hub as deities. Most of the villages payed allegiance to one of the inner lords, claiming them as defenders and suppliers, and almost all of them sent tribute in the form of materials or mages in to the center. The lords were glad to take the tribute, but never lifted a hand to defend their cities. Every once in a while one of the lords would decide to take a tour of his holdings past the edge, but usually they didn’t care. It was not like there was much worth doing. The only interference from the inner part of the country into the outer, beyond the edge, was that of the academies, who would hunt down anyone powerful in magic, they would search everywhere, within their holdings, sometimes straying beyond the holdings of their lords, traveling to the farther. And they all hunted past edge. Anyone out there was fair game fro any of the great house academies, if you were found and tried and had enough power, that is if you were not killed, you would be accepted into the service of one of the lords and you would have it good. But the training was hard, torturous and difficult.

All of these things Underfoot had learned from Farstrider. He apparently knew more about the world beyond the edge than anyone else from Sintra. The hub cared little about the outside world., but he thought that it was worth some effort. he told them stories of places beyond the edge, they were charming stories for the most part, tales of every day life lived in adverse situations. Apparently he was trying to get people from the inside to travel out and help those less fortunate than them. But his mission was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was carrying goods, crafts, art, and works of engineering that did not rely on magic in to the hub, while it may be that these would be of good service in proving that the inhabitants of beyond the edge were not barbarian savages as they were thought, it also made him quite a pile of gold. Particularly the machinery. There apparently was quite the market on mechanical toys. They were a novelty in the magic-soaked environment around the hub. And therefor valuable. He had taken one of the little toys out and showed it to Underfoot while lightfinger held the reigns. It had been a little wind up bird, with a little key in its back, he had taken it, turned it a few times and placed it in her had, the little brass bird had painted wings that showed vibrant green, blue and red feathers. After sitting in her hand for a moment, just as she was leaning forward to examine the contraption more closely the bird had gave a startlingly realistic chirp, cocked its head and looked up at her. She had almost dropped the creature in her startlement, but just managed to keep it in her hand. She was very happy about that, for it began strutting about, tickling her fingers with its little clawed feet, it flapped its wings a few times and seemed like it was trying to fly, bt it could not, because it was too heavy, being made as it was out of copper, bronze and other heavy metals. After a moment it froze as it was, still sitting in her hand, frozen midway in motion. She stared at it sadly, as if somehow that would make it begin moving again. Farstrider went to wind it again. She shook her head. Even after he had showed her the creature moving again to the trun of the little wheels in its body she could not bring back that feeling of beauty. The brief semblance of life had been amusing, but after it had passed away it was gone. For a moment the brilliant bright bird had been alive in her had, humming with life, dancing, it had been alive in her eyes, and when it stopped she felt it die. She could not, would not continue to put herself through that merely for the sake of perceived beauty. It was marvelous, perfect, beautiful even, but it was too painful to keep doing. It hurt her every time.

Her thoughts were on the vibrant bird when the city of Edge itself finally came into view. The walls rose sternly out of the surrounding countryside. Reaching up towards the clouds with granite gray slabs. The outside of the wall was unadorned, no carvings, no pictures, just plain grey rock. But as they came closer she saw that the towers jutted out of the walls, breaking the monotony of the wall with strength and hight. As they came closer the walls began to tower over the travelers in their little cart, Underfoot crouched low, curling in on herself in the back of the wagon, brining her knees up to her chest and trying to make herself as small as possible. As they entered the shadow of the wall she closed her eyes. It was too much, imagining something that much bigger than herself was nothing, she could do it without being threatened because until now she had not been able to fully comprehend it. But now, faced with the massive reality of the wall her mind was struck again. It was hard to wrap her mind around the reality of such height.

She heard the sound of other people around them. They weren’t the only people coming through the gate. For a moment her curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes, taking a look around, they were in a short line of people waiting before the gate. Ahead she could see the city guards checking the carts and asking for information on everyone that entered the city. They seemed laid back, they did not seem particularly concerned about the travelers entering the city, they merely made a cursory check of the carts coming in and waved them on.

When at last it was Farstrider’s turn to be inspected he pulled a rolled up parchment out from somewhere under the bench. On it was a seal and fancy writing. The guard glanced at it, looked up at the man and waved him on with a grunt and the words. “Go on in.”

After they had gone only a little way Littlefinger asked the man to stop the cart. “Here is where we part ways,” he said. “We need to find our own way now. I wish you luck in your endeavors.” He climbed down, touching the brim of his hat and bowing respectfully.

Farstrider nodded. “Luck to you as well my friends,” he said, waving.

Underfoot made to start climbing down, but the old man grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to squirm out of his arms, but he was too strong. Then the old man released her. Giving her a strange look. “Relax Chipmouse, it was only a hug, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

She looked a little awkward. So that was what a hug was? She wasn’t sure she liked it very much. But she looked up at him. He was trying to be nice. She tried to relax a little. Her voice started hesitantly. “. . . can we try that again?” She asked.

The old man gave her a sad look, his eyes told her that he hurt for her. He thought it was sad that someone could live for so long without ever being hugged. He was more gentle this time, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She felt a warm splash on her shoulder and realized that Farstrider had let a tear fall. “I’m so sorry that your life has been so bad.” Farstrider said. “I’m sorry, and I hope that it will get better.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye, his eyes were thick with tears. He wiped them with one hand. And kissed her on one cheek and climbed back up onto the bench and started to drive off.

She really didn’t know what to think now. She had been able to accept the hug this time. And it had been nice to be held, protected, safe. She trusted Farstrider, but it was completely outside of anything she had ever experienced. Someone cared for her. She touched her cheek where the kiss had been placed. She looked after him and stood watching the cart get smaller. “What is this?” she asked herself, watching the cart go. She would probably never see that man ever again, but she would remember him. But it was sad that she would probably never see him again.

“Come on Chipmouse.” Lightfinger called. “We need to find someplace to stay the night.”

By ‘we need to’ he meant that he would leave her out of the way, standing on the corner of one of the city streets while he wandered off to find something. She found herself kicking her feet on a short stone wall next to a statue of some great leader in a square not far from the gate they had come through. Lots of people passed through the square. She amused herself by watching the people come and go. there were other children running about, some of them with parents, others unattended like herself. No-one really paid her any attention where she was, they just went about their business and let her do her thing.

It was almost dark by the time Lightfinger returned to get her, “Come little one.” He said, he seemed rather content with himself and had a bag slung over his shoulder. He whistled as he led her through the night-dark streets. They traveled through several darkened alleys until they came to a somewhat run-down warehouse. Lightfinger bowed slightly and gestured for Underfoot to follow him. He ducked low underneath a crumbling fence that looked like it had not been maintained in years. He then led her closer to the building and in through a hole, low to the ground that had been caused by the collapse of part of the wall.

Underfoot looked around. “This is where we are going to live?” She asked.

Lightfinger nodded, tossing her a blanket.

“You didn’t find anywhere nicer we could stay?” She asked.

“When you don’t have any money, you make do with what you can.” He snapped. “Be glad I found these blankets.” He said. “And that I’m sharing.” He paused for a moment and his tone changed, becoming softer. “After we manage to find some better work we’ll see about getting a better place to stay.”

“Okay.” She said, not really thinking to question where he had got the blanket, or what other things he might have in the bag. And how easy it had been for him to find someplace to stay that was not occupied by other vagrants. She snuggled in to the blanket, it was warmer than she was used to. But it was a strange place, full of strange noises. It was hard for her to get to sleep that night, she didn’t have the exhaustion of excitement and the full day of work to draw on when falling asleep, she lay there awake, listening to Lightfinger sleeping. Her mind began to turn, starting to process everything that had happened.

In the process of doing that she fell asleep, slipping from imagination to dream. In her dream she was running from something in the depths of the darkened warehouse.

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