And who was wrong?
And who was right?
And did it matter in the thick of the fight?
~Billy Joel
A new time in my life begins. A time of learning, brutal lessons in which failure means death. How to pick pockets, locks, how to fight, lie, run away, conceal stolen goods and weapons, and so much more. And more. How to stay alive in the worst of situations. Cobe taught me much, and well.
Two years have passed. Six years old now, I’ve become Cobe’s shadow in Kirn...as long as you know to look for me. He’s taught me everything, and said it’s uncanny how fast I picked it up. But it’s all just so easy for me...whether it’s lock-picking or fighting, I never question the unusual ease I have with both body and mind. I’m a child, after all, such things are to be taken for granted.
For simplicity’s sake, Cobe allows people to think I am his daughter. He says it keeps away rumors and questions, and I don’t mind at all. After the rejection of my parents, I needed a person to look out for me. I’m lucky I found Cobe.
Today’s just another ordinary day. I left early for the marketplace, Cobe promised he’d meet me there in an hour. He wanted to scout a few houses that he’s planning to hit next week. It’s a good thing, pickings are low from working the marketplace right now. Guards are everywhere.
I settle myself into my usual place, a dark corner between two stalls, one of fruits, the other of cheap jewelry. Both know Cobe, and buy from him, so they don’t mind me being there. I watch the crowd, looking for potential “customers,” as Cobe calls them. One of the guards notices me and spits scornfully in my direction.
“Gutter trash,” he snarls. “I don’t know why we have to put up with you scum.” Picking up a handy rock, he hurls it at me. I duck, lowering my eyes and cringing like any other child would, but inwardly, I seethe. Oh, what I’d love to do to him...but I mustn’t. Control is everything, as Cobe told me.
The guard tires of his sport and moves on. After he leaves, I feel someone tug my sleeve. I whirl, nervous, a knife slipping to my fingers, but I lower it a moment later. It’s only Jerren, Cobe’s nephew. He’s eight, and a member of a small gang of thieves that Cobe befriended some time ago. His red hair is tousled, and he’s very out of breath, unable to speak. But it is the fear in his grey eyes that catches me. I wait for him to catch his breath.
He finally is able to speak. “Rois...they found Cobe...he said to find you, and tell you to run...”
Suddenly, I’m paralyzed with fear. I can’t move, can’t think. One thought runs through my head, This isn’t happening. I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. Jerren tries to pull me away, but I break free and run, as fast as I can, back to the Tallian District of the city. To home. This isn’t happening, I tell myself. But I know, deep inside, that it is. Cobe, you can’t leave me! I scream in the silence of my mind. But silence is my only answer.
I reach the street we live on and see two guards dragging Cobe out of out home. He’s barely conscious, they’re almost carrying him away. There’s blood all over his face and clothes, and, by looking at the two guards holding him, and the four that walk out after them, I know most of it is his. His threadbare clothing is in tatters, and filthy. The guards are laughing.
I duck into an alley as they pass me. I go unnoticed by the guards, but Cobe sees me. His eyes flicker open a little more, and he mouths the words, Get out of here. I shake my head, and he glares at me and repeats his words. I back away and start to run, when a firm hand clamps down on my collar and pulls me off my feet.
“What have we here?” one of the guards asks mockingly, holding me a good foot off the ground as I slowly start to choke from lack of air. “Is this your bastard, Cobe? Trained in the ways of her father, no doubt.” They all laugh, and Cobe’s face darkens in anger. He could never stand to let anyone mock me so.
“Put her down,” he rasps, light coming to his eyes. “Don’t touch her!” The guard turns with a smirk, still holding me up. I can barely breathe now, and spots of light dance before my eyes. Another guard drives a fist into Cobe’s stomach, and he doubles over in pain. He looks up at me, an agonized expression in his eyes, and he gasps out, “Rois...precious...I’m sorry...” His battered face is the last thing I see before the need for air drives me into unconsciousness.