A Tangle of Sleuth and Thief is the first adventure in an unfolding tale of struggle and intrigue where unlikely characters find themselves intertwined amidst a seething morass of political maneuvering.
At almost seventeen, Eerinâs teenage boy street-thief guise is getting harder to pull off, while the lamp lit alleyways she prowls are getting more dangerous. When she is coerced into a job far outside her comfort zone, it places at risk not only her secrets, but her life and the lives of those closest to her.
As the weakest and most eccentric magic user in his family, Markum accepted he wasnât destined to succeed his father as regional governor. Content with the responsibility free life on the family estates that afforded him, he is blindsided when his comfortable life ends. His father is sending him to the city of Peat to enlist in the Sons of Aine, a military order whose local division is headed by his uncle.
When Eerin and Markumâs paths unexpectedly cross, they will be pitted against one another as shadowy factions conspire around them, dragging them both deeper into webs of conspiracy.
A Tangle of Sleuth and Thief is the first adventure in an unfolding tale of struggle and intrigue where unlikely characters find themselves intertwined amidst a seething morass of political maneuvering.
At almost seventeen, Eerinâs teenage boy street-thief guise is getting harder to pull off, while the lamp lit alleyways she prowls are getting more dangerous. When she is coerced into a job far outside her comfort zone, it places at risk not only her secrets, but her life and the lives of those closest to her.
As the weakest and most eccentric magic user in his family, Markum accepted he wasnât destined to succeed his father as regional governor. Content with the responsibility free life on the family estates that afforded him, he is blindsided when his comfortable life ends. His father is sending him to the city of Peat to enlist in the Sons of Aine, a military order whose local division is headed by his uncle.
When Eerin and Markumâs paths unexpectedly cross, they will be pitted against one another as shadowy factions conspire around them, dragging them both deeper into webs of conspiracy.
âYouâre next, lad,â the ox of a man minding the chandler-shopâs back door said to Eerin after he ushered the youth whoâd been in front of her inside.
She was used to being mistaken for a boy; she relied on it, in fact. Her masquerading as a boy had begun at her brother Geoffâs insistence during their early days in Peat.
Itâs the only way he let me out of his sight.
Luckily, sheâd always been scrawny and her undersized frame, along with a regular clipping of her dark hair, still allowed her to pass for a boy of ten or twelve rather convincingly, even though, to the best of her knowledge, the coming winter would be her seventeenth birthday.
âBlades?â the ox asked in his slow guttural drawl. âIf ya got any, they gotta stay out here.â
Sheâd gone through the drill many times with Gorgleâs doorman and shook her head. The small blade in her pocket didnât count as far as she was concerned, and the man hadnât ever checked anything but her bag in the past.
Stepping closer, Eerin undid the two tin clasps holding the main flap of her tattered cloth bag closed and presented its contents for his inspection.
Letâs get this over with.
The big man halfheartedly pawed through the goods sheâd come to fence. After finding nothing of concern, he sank back down onto his stool, which groaned in protest as his bulk settled onto it.
Eerin shivered and danced lightly from foot to foot as a fresh gust whipped through the alley, piercing the cloth of her thin shirt. Pulling her floppy Gernish style flat cap lower over her ears, she tried to ignore the chill and the growing groan in her belly.
I could sure use gloves and a jacket before winter gets here. Iâm going to have to keep an eye out for some. Shoes too, although those can be hard to steal.
Leaning her head against the chipping paint of the doorframe, she savored the thin trickle of warmth seeping out through uneven cracks between door and frame.
Iâm not sure what Iâm looking forward to more inside, the coin, the fire, or the food.
Shoving her hands into the meager warmth of her trouser pockets, Eerin felt the small, curved blade of her purse knife, along with Geoffâs heavy brass knuckle-duster. Neither offered any warmth, but she laced her fingers into the metal knuckles, anyway. They reminded her of her older brother and had a comforting feel.
Her thoughts of Geoff cut short as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed up the cobbled alley.
A couple of someoneâs from the sound of it.
She tightened her grip on the knuckles and turned a wary eye to the dark alley behind her.
A few moments later, two boys, probably in their mid-teens, emerged from the gloom, heads low, snickering to one another as they walked. Before they drew near enough to be overheard, they fell silent.
The two queued up behind Eerin as a burst of Gorgleâs chortling laughter filtered out through the cracks around the door. Eerin looked away and smiled. Laughter inside meant the fence was already deep into his cups, which was an excellent sign.
Maybe things are looking up tonight. The drunker Gorgle gets, the more generous heâs likely to be.
With a creak, the shopâs back door opened, startling her, and spread an arc of golden lamplight across the narrow alley. The scraggly blond boy whoâd been in front of her in line earlier stepped out, clutching a steaming stew-filled bread-bowl to his chest. He glanced at the doorman, then at Eerin and the small line behind her, before hurrying away down the alley and into the gloom with his supper.
Eerin didnât wait for the Ox to give her permission to enter. She darted through the open door. Glorious warmth enveloped her, as did a spicy fishy aroma, along with the far less appealing smell of steeping tallow.
To her right an enormous brick fireplace held a cookfire and two steaming iron cauldrons. She knew from experience one cauldron held molten tallow and should be given a wide birth, while the other held Gorgleâs lucky-pot stew. On a counter next to the fireplace, a large woven reed basket overflowed with crusty palm-sized rye loaves. She eyed the loaves, appraising them from afar, trying to decide which she would select when the time came.
âYou will show me what youâve brought,â Gorgle croaked, phlegm spraying forth with every heavily accented word.
Reluctantly, Eerin tore her attention from the food to the fat man sitting behind a trestle table at the center of the room, his flabby arms crossed, and his thick brows crumpled. Gorgle, a chandler by trade, ran a small candle and rushlight store out the front of his narrow building, but everyone on the island knew his actual business operated through the back. He wasnât her first choice of fences to unload her goods with, but he was less discerning than most.
Plus, heâs one of the few who guarantees a hot meal. And besides, Iâve got that pawn-chit of his to redeem, so I kind of had to come here tonight.
âCome on, let me see,â Gorgle prodded.
If the man outside reminded Eerin of an ox, Gorgle most certainly reminded her of a giant toad, with a face and mouth too wide for his head, giving him a squashed, dis-proportioned appearance. Wire-framed spectacles magnified the two already enormous, jaundiced eyes protruding from their sockets, just below the shiny dome of his bald pate.
Eerin stepped to the table and handed her bag across. Gorgle opened it, peered inside, frowned, then dumped its contents out onto the smooth wood surface.
âThis canât be all.â He shook his head. âYou are one of the few who always bring good stuff, now this? You are taking your best goods somewhere else now, I think. You are thinking Gorgle is unfair with you, yes? I am not unfair. I am always good to you boys.â
Eerin stifled a derisive laugh and kept her eyes down.
The furrow on Gorgleâs brow deepened, and with his left hand he gestured toward the cauldrons. âMy lucky stew, is it not the best? It has fish parts, always a few greens, not just bog-rice. Who elseâs lucky stew is so lucky? No oneâs thatâs who.â
His eyes landed on the round clay pawn-chit laying amongst her other stolen wares.
âAh, one of my pawn-markers.â
He picked up the thin disk and examined it, his eyes brightening.
âNot so old, this one.â His thumb passed over the stamped number on the chitâs back, opposite the side with his crude insignia. âSomeone will be missing this, I think. Too bad for them, aye? Good for me and good for you, yes?â
He looked at her with a new level of scrutiny. âYou are the one with the splendid brass knuckles, yes? You are ready to sell them? I offer a very fair price.â
Not a fucking chance. Ever since the one time I came in here playing with them in the open, heâs asked about them and tried to get me to sell them. Every damn time. How could I have been so careless? Never let anyone see your good stuff. Itâs like the first rule of doing this shit. Well, second rule, after you canât trust anyone.
She wasnât sure what Gorgleâs fascination with the brass knuckles was. Knuckle-dusters werenât uncommon on Lowan Island. Her knuckles were of exceptional quality compared to the others sheâd seen, and probably worth a silver groat or two at least. Even so, there was no way she would sell them.
Theyâre the last thing I have of Geoffâs.
âA pity,â Gorgle said as he went back to poking through her wares with a thick fingertip. âI should give you nothing for this other rubbish.â
Despite his complaints, he lifted the lid of a heavy iron strongbox sitting beside him and swept her things from the table into it.
âI am too good to you boys.â He sighed. âIâll give you two coppers for the lot, and another two for returning my pawn-marker. And a hot supper, of course.â
As he spoke, he pulled four tarnished copper coins from his waistcoat pocket and slid them across the table to her.
Cheap old toad.
Sheâd hoped for more, sheâd thought the returned chit alone would be worth a copper five-piece but haggling with any of the islandâs fences was rarely worth the effort, so she took the offered coins, along with her empty bag and moved to the fireplace where the cauldrons hung.
Iâll have to take whatâs owed to me in the form of an extra loaf then.
Reaching into the basket of small dark loaves, she squeezed several, searching for the largest and softest of them. After selecting one, she ripped off its top and scooped out its spongy brown innards with her fingertips. The top piece of crust she stuffed into her pocket for later and the innards went into her mouth. The bread was days past its prime, which would make it about the freshest thing sheâd eaten in a while, but still soft enough not to scratch up the roof of her mouth.
Before moving to the cauldrons, Eerin glanced back to Gorgle. The old toad watched her, not intently, but close enough to keep her from risking his anger by swiping an extra loaf.
Not tonight, but Iâll get it next time.
Stepping to the hearth, she grasped the wood-handled ladle protruding from the stew cauldron and stirred. The thick pinkish liquid bubbled and foamed as she scraped the ladle along the rough iron bottom, trying to dislodge the best chunky bits. When sheâd snared several big fish pieces, she pulled the ladle out and filled her loaf-bowl until the pink stew ran down the sides and over her hand.
Shit, thatâs hot.
As if adding insult to injury, the tallow cauldron hanging nearby belched, sending a smattering of molten tallow droplets into the air and onto her arm.
Damn it, every fucking time I come here.
The only saving grace was most of the bubbling tallow missed her exposed skin and instead only soaked into the fibers of her thin shirtsleeve.
Turning, Eerin reluctantly left the warmth of Gorgleâs shop and slunk back out into the gloom of the alley. The light drizzle hadnât deterred any of the other kids in line from waiting to see Gorgle. In fact, the line had grown while sheâd been inside.
Eating hot stew was an activity sheâd learned was best done while stationary. She knew a spot, not too far back up the alley toward the main boulevard. Sheâd used it before to tuck away and eat without being disturbed. Lowering her head, she clutched her supper to her chest and moved off quickly past the others in the line.
The cobbles underfoot were slick with fallen moisture, forcing her to walk with care to avoid stepping barefoot into the ice-cold puddles filling the low spots between the walls.
Partway to her chosen spot, Eerin came upon a figure hunched on the ground. Despite the dim light filtering down from above, she could see it was the same gangly blond boy sheâd seen leaving Gorgleâs shop earlier. He knelt, holding his left side with his right hand, while his other hand picked through what appeared to be the remnants of his stew splattered across the wet cobbles.
The breadâs gone. Some assholes must have jumped him for his supper.
It wasnât uncommon for the bigger and older to ambush and steal from the younger and weaker.
The way of the world. Assholes probably took every copper he got from Gorgle, too.
Part of her wanted to help him, but another partđthe more pragmatic partđbegged her not to get involved.
Nothing good ever comes from getting involved with other peopleâs problems.
Geoff always said the only people you could really count on were family.
Look what getting mixed up with a crew got him.
It still pained her to think about it, and she tried to shove the thoughts away.
Several paces still separated her from the boy in the alley, and he hadnât noticed her yet.
I could slip away back up the alley and heâll never even know I was here. Thatâs the smart play.
Watching the boy hunched there, trying to salvage what was left of his supper, Eerin couldnât help thinking of her younger brother Oran.
Could I slink away if that poor sod were Oran?
She sighed and felt her shoulders sag.
Gods, I miss that annoying little shit.
After Geoffâs passing, he was the only family she had left.
I need to go see him.
That thought made her stomach clench. Seeing Oran meant seeing Glenna, and that wasnât something she was eager to do. Sheâs not that bad, Eerin tried to convince herself.
She looks out for Oran. For now. One of these days Iâm going to change that though. Iâll get us both away from here, just like Geoff always intended. Somewhere, he and I can be a family again. Back to Grenlin perhaps.
She was pretty sure thatâs where Geoff had fled with them from all those years ago, although heâd always been cagey when sheâd asked him about it.
Eerin took another couple of steps closer to the kneeling boy, and when she was certain he was close enough to hear her, she hissed in a low whisper, âHey, are you hurt?â
The boy flinched at her voice and lurched from where he knelt against the alleyâs brick wall, curling himself into a defensive ball.
âIâm not going to hurt you.â
She took another couple of steps toward him, and the boyâs head rose enough for one eye to peek out from beneath his shaggy blond curls.
âWhat do you want?â He unfolded himself and used the wall as a crutch to climb to a standing position. âI donât need any help. Iâm fine.â
Clearly, he wasnât fine, and Eerin ignored his protest.
âWho did this to you?â
He didnât answer, and Eerin didnât press.
Whatâs done is done. Doesnât much matter who did it anyway, I guess.
The boyâs round face was pink and puffy, especially around his light-blue eyes, but whether from the beating, or from weeping, she wasnât sure.
Probably both, she decided. Looking at her own bowl of stew, then to what little remained of his spilled across the ground, she closed her eyes and groaned inwardly.
âDid you get to eat any of that?â she asked, motioning to the spilled stew.
The boy shook his head a fraction.
âWhen was the last time you ate?â
Judging from the look of him, she doubted it had been that day.
He shrugged, and Eerin nodded. Things had been tough lately. In the last year, the city of Peat had seen an influx of sailors and fighting men coming to its port, hoping to hire on to support the war with the Tallisen Empire on the other side of the Sapphire Sea. Few of the newcomers had coin, all were hungry, and most had reluctantly settledâeven if temporarilyâamong the docks and slums of Lowan Island. So, for Lowan Islandâs long-term residents, finding something worth pinching had been getting increasingly difficult.
âLetâs get out of the open. I know a place close to here.â
The boyâs understandable reluctance to go anywhere with her took considerable convincing to crack, but eventually, at the promise of food, he agreed. When they got to her spot, the space was just large enough for them to sit side-by-side with their feet tucked in, completely out of the main alleyway and drizzle.
Fortunately, her stew was still hot when they started eating. The boy, Lem, (he finally divulged his name), ate timidly at first, but soon he was shoveling great heaping finger-fulls of the pink fish stew into his mouth with abandon. Unfortunately for them both, the bread-bowl emptied quickly, and it wasnât long before their fingertips were scraping the bowlâs soggy bottom.
The stew hadnât filled Eerin, but it had taken the edge off her hunger and warmed her a bit. Leaning back, she watched with amusement as Lem sucked his fingers clean. When he finished, she offered him the remaining husk of the bread-bowl to eat.
âThanks,â he said as he bit into the crust. âIâll make this up to you.â
Eerin nodded dismissively.
âNo, I promise, I really will.â He stopped eating, tilted his head, and looked at her. âI seen you around before, ya know? Whatâs your name?â
Eerinâs eyebrows rose at his claim he recognized her, and she considered whether it was smart to give him her name.
He obviously already knows me by sight. How much worse could it be for him to have my name?
âIâm Eerin,â she finally replied.
âEerin?â He cocked his head. âPeculiar name that. Never heard it before.â His nose scrunched as he studied her face until she looked away.
Her amber eyes were unusual in Peat, possibly unique. In dim light they could pass for light brown or hazel and most people didnât seem to even notice them, but they were a distinguishing feature she tried not to draw attention to.
If Lem had noticed their strangeness, he didnât comment and, after a brief pause, continued with what heâd been saying. âAnyway, yeah, Iâve seen you around some, mostly around Tallyâs. Me anâ some of the guys have a kip near there, anâ I do stuff for Tally when she needs.â
Fucking Tallyâs.
Eerin swore under her breath.
Iâm not at her damn pub that much, am I? Well, maybe I have been lately.
Lem pushed another chunk of crust into his mouth. âThey say you might be cracked or a nutter. I mean, I donât think so, but the other guys do, Ęźcause youâre always on your own, anâ Ęźcause you donât ever talk to no one, anâ Ęźcause you ainât part of a crew.â
Cracked?
She wasnât sure if she wanted to laugh or feel stung by that.
Iâm not cracked or a nutter. Just because I keep to myself?
She tried to brush the remarks off.
What do I care what those little sods think? I guess if they think Iâm a nutter, so much the better. I donât want them getting too close and figuring out the truth, anyway.
âDo you got any friends?â Lem asked around a full mouth. âYou must have. Canât survive out here without friends.â
He seemed to have given up on her actually responding to his question and just moved on.
âI like your hat, you know, looks warm. I might have to get myself one like that. Did you knowâŚâ
Eerin wondered what he might say if he knew she was a girl.
That might render him speechless for a few moments.
She snorted.
Not likely. Might make him even more talkative.
She didnât know of any other female pinchers on the streets.
Thatâs because the streets are full of creepers.
Eerin shivered at the thought. There were girls who hung around, but for better or for worse, most orphan girls got taken into household service at an early age. In fact, Glenna had pushed Eerin in that direction right after Geoff had died, but Eerin had refused. Sheâd heard the horror stories and knew legitimate work in a household could be as big a die-roll as living on the streets in disguise.
Some of those damn household jobs come with torments as bad or worse than what a girl might face on the streets.
There were other options as well, of course.
But thereâs no way Iâm going to be a barmaid or go sell myself in the pleasure district either. No, Iâll keep on with what Iâm doing, until I can find a better way.
âWeâre not really part of a crew, either. Me anâ my guys,â Lem was saying when she mentally tuned back in. âIâm the oldest by a winter, maybe two, so Iâm kind of the leaderâŚâ
It seemed once Lem got himself warmed up; he didnât have any trouble keeping the conversation going all by himself. To her surprise, she found she didnât mind the drone of his babble. She wondered where these friends Lem kept talking about were now, or where they had been while he was getting jumped.
She snorted softly.
Canât never count on no one but yourself. Except maybe family.
After half listening to Lem for a while longer, the eveningâs chill seeped into her once more, so Eerin climbed to her feet and brushed crumbs from her shirt and trousers.
âI need to go.â
Lem looked surprised, then dejected when she rose. âYeah, yeah me too. Thanks for sharing your supper. I really will make this up to you, ya know. You workinâ the festival tomorrow?â
Of course, Iâm working the festival tomorrow.
His question was a silly one. Everyone who did what they did would be working the Autumn Harvest Festival. It wasnât an event she, or any other pincher, could afford to miss. Strong ale and throngs of jubilant revelers made for the easiest pickings they could ever hope for.
Lem seemed to take her silence as an answer. âYeah, me too. Maybe Iâll see you there. Maybe we could work together.â
Eerin nodded, but she had no intention of doing any such thing. The last thing she wanted was to work with someone else.
Especially someone who just let themselves get taken unawares and robbed. Nope Iâm better off without a crew.
âI gotta get going. Pockets to cut and purses to pick, ya know.â
Lem grinned at her flip-flopping of the words in the old saying. âYeah, me too. Well, good luck tomorrow. Iâll see you around.â
The drizzle had eased into a swirling mist by the time Eerin left Lem. She walked through the alley toward Hide Street, glad for a little something in her belly and thinking of the upcoming celebration.
The Autumn Harvest Festival was the largest of the yearâs four grand celebrations, held during the month of the Hunterâs moon over the day and night of the full moon nearest the autumnal equinox. The city held smaller festivals on the day and night of every full moon, but those didnât come anywhere close compared to the four large festivals, held to celebrate the solstices and equinoxes, in terms of size or pilfering potential.
I really need to make the most of tomorrowâs festival.
Pickings had truly been poor lately. In fact, Eerin had struggled to scrape together enough coppers to buy a warm meal every few days for the last few months.
And I donât even want to think about how bare my âget me and Oran out of Peatâ stash has gotten. The coppers I got from Gorgle tonight wonât do shit to change that, either.
Not that Oran had ever expressed an interest in leaving Peat when sheâd brought it up in the past.
Once I have the coin together, I know heâll agree to go. There has to be a place out there for us.
She pushed that issue aside for the moment.
For now, the problem I need to focus on is making and saving enough coin to make it happen.
Without an actual destination in mind, it was hard to know how much theyâd need.
A lot more than I have now, thatâs for sure. Every time I stash away a few coins, it seems like sooner or later Iâm fishing them back out again for one reason or another.
Rounding another narrow corner, the alleyâs mouth came into view ahead of her. The yellow glow from the whale-oil lamps on Hide Streetđone of the main North-South boulevards crossing Lowan Islandđshone a short way off.
Her wandering thoughts wavered, and her overprotective subconscious sprang back to the forefront as she passed a rather deep darkened recess, not unlike the one she and Lem had eaten in. There wasnât anything obviously amiss about the sunken doorway, but still it gave her a bad feeling, and sheâd learned early on not to ignore the occasional warnings the primitive depths of her subconscious gave. So, without hesitation, she leapt into a full sprint towards the relative safety of Hide Street.
Sheâd only made it a couple more strides before the creak of hinges from deep within the recess, and a muffled curse echoed off the walls behind her, followed by the sound of padded footfalls giving chase. Someone had indeed been lying in wait.
I fucking knew it. She hissed inwardly. Same fuckers who got Lem, probably.
She had less than thirty yards to go to the alleyâs opening though, and she was closing that distance fast.
Whoever you assholes are, youâre not getting me too, not tonight.
Dancing around an overturned crate, Eerin had just splashed through a slime covered puddle when the air surrounding her crackled and flashed with miniature tendrils of lightning. A chill like nothing sheâd felt before washed over her, but then, as quickly as theyâd come, the lightning tendrils sped around her and dissipated.
Her stride faltered, but she didnât fall.
What in the seven abysses was that? Whatever it was must have missed, or Iâd surely be dead. Thank the gods for that.
As she continued to run, she tried to come to grips with what was happening.
Shithead street thugs donât conjure lightning. Iâve only heard of Stains working magic like that.
The thought of Stains in the area brought a different type of chill, and she desperately hoped she was wrong. Fortunately, with every stride, the distance between her and her pursuer grew.
I can see the street up ahead, and if I can get there, this asshole will never catch me.
Her budding optimism shattered when an enormous figure stepped out from around the corner of Hide Street, directly into her path. With the streetlamps behind him, the behemoth of a man blocking her way was a dark silhouette that spanned nearly the entire width of the narrow alley. He had to be at least a head taller than Gorgleâs Ox and going around the man was out of the question.
But so is stopping and going back towards that lightning throwing Stain.
There was only a stride or two separating her from the Behemoth and she had momentum on her side, so Eerin decided on an admittedly desperate option. She tucked her head into her shoulder and drove herself into the enormous manâs midsection at full speed.
When they collided, the man grunted, but didnât give even a step. Eerin, on the other hand, crumpled into him face first, then rebounded backward onto the wet alley floor like a turnip sack flung at a wall.
Rattled, and lying on her back in a puddle deep enough to soak her to her core, Eerin struggled to regain her bearings.
That was not a good plan.
The fear sheâd been holding off when the situation looked easily escapable, crept back in and her hands began to tremble.
The footfalls pursuing her splashed up and stopped, carrying with them a man who was wheezing from exertion.
âBallsy little shit. She tried to run me over.â the Behemoth laughed from above her in a guttural bellow.
âNo, no balls on this one,â the still wheezing Stain rasped back. âNor brains either, it would appear.â
âMaybe not, but I still say it was ballsy of her to try running me down. Might have even worked on a lessor man than me. Sheâs a fast one too⌠Made you miss.â
âYou know I didnât miss,â the wheezing Stain hissed.
Their banter sent a fresh wave of foreboding creeping up Eerinâs spine.
That big fucker used the words her and she. Howâs that possible? No one but Oran and Glenna knows that about me.
She still hadnât gotten a good look at either man above her, but she didnât like what she was hearing.
Rolling to her side, then to her belly, Eerin put her hands down into the muck beneath her and pushed up onto all-fours.
Get a fucking hold of yourself and think. Running and ramming was a total failure, so what options do I have left? Fight, cry, negotiate, play possum, turtleâŚ
Mentally scrolling through her list of possible next moves diverted some attention from her rising panic. Reaching into her trouser pocket, she felt for her knife. Its tiny blade was made for snipping purse strings and far too short to be much use in defense, so she dismissed it and nudged it aside and laced her fingers into Geoffâs brass knuckle-duster instead.
The holes of the metal knuckles were too large, and fit her hand loosely, but the knuckles had done an excellent job of shifting the odds towards her favor in encounters before. The feel of the cold metal soothed her further.
When she tried to raise further, the Behemothâs skiff sized boot planted itself between her shoulder blades. He didnât press her down, but he didnât let her rise any further, either.
âRight there is good, little one.â He rumbled from over top her.
âWe have an offer for you,â Wheezy the Stain added, still rasping from the run.
Eerin spat out a small chunk of filth that had found its way into her mouth during the fall. She was certain she didnât want anything they were offering, but her chances for escape right then didnât look good and telling them she wasnât interested before figuring a way out might only make things worse.
If I had a clear path I know I could outrun them. Although Iâm not sure how Iâd outrun another one of those lightning balls, and I doubt I can count on that fool missing again, not from this close.
Wheezy knelt before her, taking care not to let his long black robe-like garment trail into the puddle.
âYou arenât an easy one to find, but our employer thinks youâre worth it, so weâve gone to considerable trouble and expense to have this meeting with you. They think itâs a shame youâre wasting your talents down here in the gutters, cutting purses, and picking pockets. So, as I said, weâre here to make you an offer. An offer more lucrative for you than a hundred years of selling scraps to Gorgle could ever be.â
The Stainâs hand stretched out into Eerinâs line of vision, and she reflexively recoiled at the sight of it. She had never seen a Stainâs skin up close, and it was startling, even though it appeared almost exactly as sheâd suspected it would.
The veins streaming beneath the surface of his lean hand and arm looked like those of a regular manâs, except they were a vivid blue which seemed to shimmer up through his pale skin even in the dim moonlight.
So, is their blood-stained blue on the inside or is that just what color their veins are? And is that what gives them their magic?
With a small flourish, a silver flur coin appeared between Wheezyâs thumb and index finger, then rolled side-over-side across the top of his knuckles, only to vanish again when it reached his little finger.
Neat trick.
Sheâd seen card and dice gamblers in the taverns and alehouses do something similar with copper five-pieces.
Even though it was about the same size, the silver flur was far more impressive than a copper five-piece. Not because of what the Stain had done with it, but because of what it was worth. She couldnât read letters, but she knew numbers, and she knew how to figure coins. Quickly, she did the sums in her head.
Ten coppers to a silver penny, four pennies to a silver groat, three groats to a flur. So, one-hundred-twenty coppers to a flur.
She let out a low whistle.
That one coinâs worth sixty times what I got from Gorgle tonight. Gods what I wouldnât do for the chance to nick it from this wanker before I give them the slip.
It wasnât enough coin to get her and Oran out of Peat and begin a new life somewhere else, but it would make a good start.
I could save some and still eat for a long time on that, not to mention buy a few of the things I need.
The stain also wore a ring with a rather large light-blue gemstone in it.
I wouldnât mind taking that off him as well. If I get a chance.
âNow that I have your attention,â Wheezy said. âOn to our offer.â
With her interest piqued and her panic at bay for the moment, she listened.
âThere is an object we need stolen. An object our employer feels you are uniquely suited to acquire.â
Just those first few sentences set her mental horseshit detector ringing.
What could I be uniquely suited for? There are a thousand knobs around here who would steal the last tooth from their motherâs mouths for a coin like that, so why do they think they need me?
One possibility came to mind, but it wasnât particularly comforting.
If me or someone like me gets caught or dead pinching what theyâre after, thereâs no one whoâll even notice, no one to be the wiser.
âI understand you must have questions and the circumstances of this must seem strange,â Wheezy continued. âI assure you, weâd intended to approach you in a far less dramatic way than this when you left Gorgleâs, but the incident back there in the alley with that unfortunate little sod disrupted our original plan and we had to adjust to something admittedly less delicate.â
Her anger flared at the mention of the âincident with the little sod.â She pictured Lem again huddled on the ground, then thought of Oran, and the temper she normally kept a tight leash on slipped free.
âYou two did that to him, didnât you?â she asked, and she attempted to scrabble up again.
âEasy little one,â the Behemoth soothed while at the same time reminding her his foot could squash her into the wet stone at any time.
âOf course not,â Indignation replacing the indulgent tone Wheezy had been using up till then. âA pack of his own set upon him. We were just in a position to witness it. And they nearly ruined everything, that little pack of jackals. Now quit interrupting. Iâve been on this shit-hole island far longer than necessary and time is short.â
On second thought, it seemed rather ridiculous these two would be out robbing street kids for their suppers, but there were still many questions about what they wanted and why theyâd come looking for her specifically.
âOy there,â came another interruption, this one in the form of a slurred call from the direction of Hide Street, prompting an exasperated groan of disgust from Wheezy. The Behemoth didnât groan, but his massive foot lifted from Eerinâs back and she heard the big man turn to face the newcomer.
âMove along, friend,â the Behemoth rumbled. âThis is none of your concern.â
âWhatâs?â the slurring voice asked with outrage as its owner shuffled closer. âWhatâre you lot up tođâ
A wet thwack cut the rest of the newcomerâs question short. A moment later, the clatter of a limp body falling to the ground echoed through the alley, then silence again.
That poor drunken fool.
Eerinâs panic, which she had barely held at bay with the promise of the flur, flooded in.
Iâve got to get away from these two. The big oneâs foot isnât on me anymore, and theyâre at least partially distracted. This might be my only chance.
No new options had presented themselves, so Eerin decided on the quickest, dirtiest, most strait forward one she had. Tightening her grip on Geoffâs brass-knuckles, she coiled her hand and arm, then struck out at the part of the kneeling Stain. When the blow landed cast metal onto knee-bone, Wheezy rocked back and let out a howl.
Getting her legs beneath her, Eerin pushed off, and rammed her shoulder into the off-balance Stainâs chest. Over they both toppled. Eerinâs momentum carrying her right down on top of the shrieking Stain.
Although in obvious pain, Wheezy wasnât nearly as disoriented as sheâd hoped. He grabbed at her, closing the fingers of his hand around her thin shirt.
âLet go!â she snarled. Rearing back as much as she could, she prepared to bash the Stain a second time. Their eyes met, and she watched his expression shift from rage to panic as he realized his face was her next target.
Her blow never landed. Never even launched. Instead, she found her right forearm caught tight from behind in a hand so big it almost covered her arm from wrist to elbow.
The Behemothâs deep booming laugh rolled out slow and smooth like thunder above her. âI told you this one has balls; I knew it right away.â
In one smooth motion, he pulled Eerin from atop the sputtering Stain, set her down in front of himself, then wrapped one arm around her, almost protectively.
Standing there, held fast, Eerin watched in horror as Wheezy picked himself up with considerable effort. Moisture and filth soaked his clothing from where sheâd pushed him over into the muck, and he was having obvious difficulty putting any weight on the knee sheâd bashed. The fear sheâd seen in his eyes moments before had evaporated, replaced this time by pure fury.
Oh gods, that was an even worse plan than the last one.
Eerin couldnât help her squeak of terror, and it was only through effort she kept her grip on Geoffâs knuckles.
âYou little cunt,â Wheezy snarled as he drew a thin-bladed dagger from within his sleeve. âIâll gut youđâ
âNo,â the Behemoth said, cutting the other man off. âYou will do as the mistress wishes.â
The enraged Stain made no sign heâd heard the big man. He struck out with the knife. Despite being held tight, Eerin tried to scuttle away, but the effort was useless. All she could do was close her eyes and brace herself for what she knew was coming.
The bite of the blade didnât come though; instead Eerin felt herself forcibly hauled along with the Behemoth as he twisted his considerable girth to the side with astonishing quickness.
Remarkably, the big man didnât so much as grunt as the dagger pierced his left shirtsleeve and sank hilt deep into the meaty flesh of the arm which held Eerin. With the blade still lodged in his arm, the Behemoth slowly turned them both back to face a knifeless Wheezy.
âThe mistress does not wish her dead.â
âNot yet, she doesnât,â Wheezy spat after heâd regained some of his composure. âBut when she screws this up, and she will. When that happens, Iâm going to enjoy myself.â
âEnough,â the Behemoth said as he used his free hand to pull the dagger from his arm and hand it back hilt first to its owner. âTell her what she is to do.â
Wheezy accepted his blade back with a grimace, then took a deep breath.
âTomorrow at the festival, you will steal what we need stolen,â he said..
âTomorrow? At the festival?â Eerin asked.
âYes, tomorrow. We approached you tonight because we knew where youâd be. We went to a lot of trouble to make sure you came across one of this idiotâs loan markers,â Wheezy replied, waving back down the maze of alleys toward Gorgleâs shop.
âGorgleâs chit. It was a setup, but how?â Sheâd taken the marker off some random swell on the boardwalk that very afternoon. âHowâd you know itâd be me that pinched him, and not one of the other kids down there, and why not do this on the boardwalk if you knew Iâd be down there?â
âBetter here,â the Behemoth answered with the hint of a chuckle. âYouâre a runner. I knew it the first time I saw you. Down there, if youâd spooked, we might have lost you. Better in a place like this.â
âYes, all of that,â Wheezy agreed dryly as the silver flur appeared in his hand once again, this time with none of the flourish or flare. âThis was supposed to be the carrot.â He tossed the coin into the muck at Eerinâs feet. âA down payment for future services.â His eyes narrowed. âI told them giving you anything upfront was a bad idea, because heâs right, you are a runner. Better, in my opinion, to bypass the carrot and start off straight away with the stick. But our employer insisted we do it this way. They donât understand the way you all are down here.â
Eerin listened but stared at the place where the coin had splashed into the puddle at her feet.
âWhen the job is done, there will be more,â the Behemoth said.
âDisappoint us or fail,â Wheezy continued, and Eerin could hear the anticipation in his voice, âand they will loose me to deliver the stick. But not just to you. Oh no, screw this up or fail to show tomorrow and we will pay a visit to the little whelp and the herb-witch first, then weâll come for you.â
Oh gods.
Eerinâs eyes jerked up to meet his.
Herb-witch? He has to mean Glenna, but how could he know about her and Oran, and their connection to me?
Wheezy let his words hang in the air for a few moments before speaking again. âI see you understand my meaning. Thatâs good. Tomorrow, we will meet you on the arena steps outside the festival at nine bells. Iâll give you the details of what youâre to do, then.â
âWait,â Eerin said, her voice sounding maddeningly pathetic and weak to her own ears. âWhat do you want me to do? Tell me. What if I canât do it? And why me? There are hundreds of others like me down heređâ
âYou are the best for this, little one,â the Behemoth replied.
When his arm holding her relaxed and fell away, Eerinâs legs failed to support her, and she sank down onto her knees in the puddle.
âTomorrow morning, nine bells, donât be late,â Wheezy reiterated with a hiss as he limped past her and followed the Behemoth toward the glittering lamplight of Hide Street.
Eerin began to tremble as soon as the two were out of sight and she was thankful for the drizzle that had returned; it allowed her to convince herself the moisture trickling down her cheeks wasnât tears.
Get a hold of yourself. Gods, what would Geoff say if he could see me?
She choked back a sob.
He would have hugged me and asked how he could make it better.
Thinking of him only made her heart hurt worse.
Gods, why did he have to leave us?
As her head sank to her chest, the silver coin caught her eye, still glinting beneath the surface of the puddle. She looked at the coin for a long while before fishing it from the muck and stowing it in the small leather coin purse hanging beneath her shirt, suspended from a thong around her neck.
What kind of sods throw coin around like that?
She snorted.
The worst kind.
Eerin is a pickpocket; a street urchin trying to scrape enough coin together so that she and her brother can escape the slums of Peat. She's disguising herself as a boy to protect herself from the indignities females on the streets face. When she's accosted in the street by two men, one of whom is a Stain (a derogatory term for a Weaver due to their stained veins), and is coerced into taking on a dangerous job, she knows that refusal would mean repercussions for her brother, as well as herself. Markum is a Weaver, someone who can weave the threads of the universe after surviving a childhood illness. He's not particularly powerful, though, and is sent to Peat so that his Uncle can figure out what to do with him. He's spent his entire life never quite knowing when to keep his mouth shut, and finding himself in scrapes that could have been avoided. His particular talent lies in being able to taste when someone is being untruthful. When he almost catches a waif like thief stealing his uncles relic, his life is about to take a drastic turn.
A Tangle of Sleuth and Thief grabs the readers attention from the very first few paragraphs; building a rich world full of intrigue and danger. Eerin is a captivating character, woven with complexity as well as a deep, stubborn single-mindedness. She clings onto her prejudices, almost sullenly, while she tries to navigate the even more dangerous world she's unwittingly found herself in - although with the actions of one of her encounters, it's almost understandable. Her determination to leave the city with her brother is frustrating, especially when he repeatedly tells her he doesn't want to leave.
Markum is fascinating as a character. He's naĂŻve, having had a sheltered upbringing which he mainly spent pursuing his father's library. But there's also something unspoken about him; he's uncomfortable being touched, he retreats into his mind when trying to recall something so much, he doesn't notice what's happening around him. He can't always tell, or pick up on, social cues and facial expressions, and more often than not, opens his mouth before his brain engages. From a literary point of view, he shows some similarities to Sherlock Holmes (never mind that he's tasked with investigating a certain thief), and from a more literal point of view, he's definitely socially awkward, to say the least. He's quite refreshing, as during his chapters of the book, we get to see the world through his eyes - how confusing and exhausting it is navigating situations that are way out of his depth.
S. A