Craftsmen, traders and noblemen alike lined the streets, some shouting greetings, other insults, and others ignoring the din all together. The occasional carriage rumbled through, tossing street walkers aside and always there was the threat of the few foolish enough to ride through such crowded streets.

Beyond the crowds, lurking down a side street between a fruit stand and the local smithy was a small group of boys. Dirty, they were, scrawny and rat-like as they peered over each other’s heads; looking for food, coin or anything of value they might lay their hands on this day.

Unseen by the crowds and rejected by the rats a single boy moves through the crowd. He’s as dirty as the others, smelling much like the street around him. He’s small, unkempt, pathetic really; and unbeknownst to the world that moves about him, hasn’t eaten in days. His bare feet move easily across the rough ground, as if his soles were made of cobbler’s leather. Quietly he stocks through the crowd, looking for the unsuspecting purse that might ease the pain in his stomach. Amethas Teltaryn is the name he was born with, though not even he knows why. He’s known as Thas to the other boys who deem to greet him, and to the few shop keeps who occasionally take pity on his kind. He has no home, no family, no life that he can remember beyond the grime of the streets. Once he lived with the other boys, worked with them, but there is no trust between their kind. If you put yourself out for others you ended up with nothing. That was what Thas had learned with a black eye and a broken wrist. He’d been on his own ever since that day.

Thas moved through the crowds as unnoticed as a rat at their feet. He scanned one person after another, looking for a fat purse without too many strings attached, or too many blades. He’d done it a hundred times before. He was not so good as to never get caught, but good enough to be away before anyone noticed. It was a practiced art, though one that had sent him running from the guard more than a few times.

Finally he found his target. A young lording with a blue velvet cape sauntered through the crowds as if he owned the very street he walked upon. Thas had seen his kind before. They always carried more than they needed, and rarely missed their purse until they went to pay for something. Thas smiled. He would eat tonight! And maybe have enough for a blanket too.

Carefully he slipped up beside the man as if he was simply making his way through the crowd. Lucky for him the lordling had taken an interest in the moulding of one of the buildings and Thas carefully slipped his small knife beneath the folds of the cape and gently snapped the purse strings. The bag fell into his hands like all the jewels of the Queen of Andor. The weight spoke of a fortune Thas had never seen and he slipped back into the crowd as quickly as he could. He might even be able to go to an Inn with his prize!

Thas darted between the people in the crowds, trying to put as much distance between him and the blue cape as he could. There was an alley not far off, one that most of the boy’s avoided. An old lady lived down there and her shop smelt of all sorts of unpleasant things. The boys didn’t like her at all, but Thas could hold his breath long enough to slip through and escape.

Thas turned into the alley and was about to run, when a hand, large and firm grabbed his arm. As weak as he was, Thas knew better than to try to pull away. That had earned him plenty of trouble before. With any luck he could find a distraction and slip away. He might have to lose the purse to do it, but no dinner was better than facing the guards yet again.

Thas looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes. The man was tall, muscular and Thas could see the hilt of some large weapon sticking out above his shoulders. The man frowned at him sternly.

“Excuse me, son,” the man said; his voice was rough. “But I don’t think that purse there is yours, is it?”

Thas tried to look as embarrassed and meek as possible. He dropped his eyes as if ashamed of what he’d done. “Nosir.”

The man nodded sagely. “You shouldn’t be taking what isn’t your son. If you’d asked Lord Bierres for a copper, he’s a good soul and would’ve given you one, but it’s not fair to be stealing from him now is it?”

Thas shook his head. “Nosir.”

The man patted him on the shoulder and steered him back towards the alley entrance where the man in the cape stood expressionless. “Now then, my boy, I want you to return that purse and apologise to Lord Bierres. Then there’s no harm done, right?”

Thas nodded energetically, eager to be away from the big man. He could always find another purse, maybe not one so fat, but better to have an empty stomach than a gutted one. The man released him and Thas walked over to the Lord, keeping his eyes down.

“I’s s’rry, M’Lor’ sir,” he said, holding up the purse. Lord Bierres took it without comment or expression.

Thas felt the big man’s hand on his shoulder. He turned around.

“That’s a good lad there,” the man said with a smile. He extended his hand to Thas. “Now be a good lad. I don’t want to see you doing anything of the sort again.”

Thas nodded and held out his own hand. In a strange way he felt honoured. No one had ever wanted to shake his hand before. Only the big people, the rich people did that. Suddenly he almost felt a little ashamed for stealing the purse from two people who clearly didn’t look down on him the way…

The pain was excruciating. Thas screamed and tried to pull his hand back, but the man held it in an iron grip as he broke the second finger. Thas howled again, and the man squeezed the two broken bones in his grip.

“Crime doesn’t pay, little boy,” he hissed and broke a third finger. “You should know better than to lay hands on those above you. Filthy bloody rat!” A fourth finger and he reached for Thas’ thumb.

Incoherently Thas apologised and pleaded for him to stop, but it was mixed with the howls as each bone was meticulously broken. Sometimes the man would stop, hesitate with the finger in hand, only to break it seconds later. Whenever Thas tried to escape, the man would squeeze or pull at the broken bones as punishment.

After he had broken the thumb the man looked at him, his eyes hard. “Your other hand, son.”

Thas shook his head, his mouth moving, pleading, but no sound coming out. He put his left hand behind his back and tried to pull away. It only made the man angrier. He grabbed one of Thas’ broken fingers and started to bend it backwards as far as it would go.

“Give me your hand,” he growled.

When Thas did move the man bent the finger so hard a second knuckle cracked under the first and Thas screamed. Without thinking he pulled his hand from behind his back and the man snatched it up. Thas pleaded softly with him, but somehow he knew it wouldn’t make a different. And pain exploded inside him again.

Again and again. Once by one the man broke each of his fingers. Through the haze of pain and blurred eyes Thas could see the man’s grin as if he was enjoying every minute of it. Again and again. The agony shot through Thas and he howled to the sky, to anyone that would listen, but no passer-by stopped to see what happened in the alley, no one came to his aid. He was alone. The man threw him to the ground and instinctively Thas tried to catch himself. His hands impacted the stone and he cried out again, trembling, trying to force the pain under control. He’d been hurt before, beaten before, but never had he felt anything quite so…

The man reached down and grabbed his hand in one fist and one of his hands in the other. He ignored Thas’ screamed. “Now, little rat, you are going to apologise to my Lord and you are going to do it until I believe that you are truly sorry for what you’ve done.” The man twisted Thas around so that he faced Lord Bierres. The Lord stared on as passively an unemotional as every other time Thas had dared to look at him. “Now apologise!” the man shouted, and pain shot through Thas’ hand.

It seemed to go on for hours. Thas was lost inside of a world of pain. He was no longer sure if he actually spoke the words, or if they were lost amidst his own screams. The man twisted, bent and hammered his fingers, delighting in his cries for mercy. But no amount of begging would make him stop. No amount of apologies would make him stop. And all the while Lord Bierres looked on, impassive to the suffering before him.

“Maruk,” the Lord said after a time, “The gutter scum is of little amusement and we do have an appointment to keep.”

The big man grabbed Thas by the front of his tunic and hauled him up to face level. Through what hazy consciousness he had left, Thas could smell the man’s rotting breath. “You’re lucky, little rat. If I ever see you again, I’ll make you apologise until there’s not an intact bone left in your body.” The man spit in his face and threw him down with a force that made his whole body shake on impact. Then the man stepped on his hand as he walked out of the alley, laughing when the boy screamed once more.

An eternity passed as he lay there, immobile. Even as the haze began to clear, the slightest twitch of his hands caused him immeasurable pain. He could barely breathe without the agony returning. He couldn’t sit up, couldn’t move. He wouldn’t be able to steal, wouldn’t be able to eat, he might not even be able to drink anything more than the rain. So he just lay there, letting each burst wash over him like a wave.

Slowly he became aware of the light dimming around him. Dusk was falling; shadows began to stretch across the streets and dampen the alley. Darkness settled over the small boy, but still he did not move from where he lay. His stomach growled in protest, too long without food, but still he did not move. Torches were lilt and shops were closed. Night covered the great city and the streets grew quiet, and still the boy didn’t move.

Soft footsteps echoed down the alley, and the faint light from the street was blocked. The alley began to glow with the light of a lantern and soon a figure stood over the boy. Thas flinched as the figure squatted down next to him. “Hey now, you okay there lad?”

Thas didn’t answer, pleading that the man leave him be. He couldn’t take any more today. No more pain. No more. The man reached for one of Thas’ hands and Thas flinched, moving it away. He gasped at the sudden pain and pulled both his hands close, trying to ignore how much it hurt.

“Easy, lad,” the man whispered. His voice was soft, calm. “I’m not going to hurt you. Will you let me see, please? You hands look banged up pretty badly. I just want to help.” When Thas didn’t respond, the man reached out and stroked his hair gently. “You’re the little one Massey talks about. Thas, isn’t it? I’m not gonna hurt you, Thas. You come with ol’ Garvic. We’ll get your hands all bandaged up and I’ll see to it you sleep in a nice warm bed with a full stomach tonight. How’s that sound?”

Thas raised his head slightly to look at the man. He looked old, in the lantern light, but maybe not that old. His eyes and voice were kind, but Thas had thought the same of the big man as well. No more. He couldn’t take anymore.

The man stroked his hair again. “Broke you up pretty fierce, didn’t he? And for doing nothing more than what it takes to survive. You’re a brave little boy, Thas; not a tear on those cheeks I see.” The man stroked his cheek gently. “Only a monster would do such a horrific thing. Do you think I’m a monster, my boy?” Thas stared at him, deep into his eyes trying desperately not to see the big man. They were nothing alike. The big man was young, hard, cruel. This man was old, soft and kind. Thas wanted to believe it so badly. The man gently took his upper arms and pulled him up. Thas came willingly; his body nearly limp with the effort to not move his hands. On his feet again, he found that the older man was not much taller than himself.

The man smiled. “There now, let’s get you inside before you catch a cold out here. I’ll bring Ms. Massey over and we’ll see if we can’t get those fingers fixed up. Then I’ve got some nice stew I can heat up to fill that belly of yours.” The man put an arm around his shoulders and gently led him out of the alley. “Come on then, Thas, it’s not far. Don’t worry, no one will see us so late. We’ll be indoors and out of sight in no time. Nothing to fear with me, little one.”

Thas followed through the streets, clinging to Garvic, trying to stay within the shadow of the man’s arm. At every sound he jumped, at every figure on the street he shrank back into the man’s protective arm. His eyes darted all over, wary of the blue cloak and the big man. Common sense told him they would not be about this part of the city at night, but common sense had also told him to be honoured when offered someone’s hand.

Garvic’s home was in the back of his small shop. Absently Thas recalled having lifted a sweet once or twice. Garvic took him through the back door into a small sitting area with a kitchen. The man settled him down onto a small couch and laid a blanket across his shoulders. Then he knelt by the fire place and in a few moments the room glowed warm.

The man smiled at him. “You just sit tight, lad. I’ll go get Ms. Massey. Don’t you worry, we’ll have you feeling a lot better, real soon.” Then Garvic left, leaving Thas alone with his fire and his blanket.

Thas looked around the room slowly, without moving from where he’d been put. It was small, but warm and comfortable. Thas couldn’t really remember ever being inside someone’s home before. It seemed filled with luxury to his mind, though judging from the age of the man’s clothes, there was little money to be had in this house, not that in his present condition he’d be able to find it.

Thas looked down at his hands, really looking at them for the first time. Even in the dim light he could see the shadows flickering across swollen joints and grotesque angles. They bled in places, where it looked as if the bone had broken skin. One finger was still bent backwards; having stuck after the man forced it there. Thas swallowed hard trying to calm his stomach. There was nothing for him to throw up, but dry heaves were just as unpleasant. He turned his eyes away from his hands and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, trying to forget the image.

He was crippled, beyond anything he’d ever imagined. It was his own fault too; though how should he have known that such a monster was waiting for him? And despite the horrific events of the day, for the first time someone had take true pity on him and had brought him into their home. Most of his fears about Garvic had been assuaged, but he would still be ready to bolt if necessary. For all he knew the older man was bringing the big man back to finish what he started. After a time the door opened and Thas heard a familiar voice.

“I swear to you, Mr. Garvic, there are people in this world that just have no respect for their fellow beings. Doing that too a poor kid; even one of those damned channelling men would have more compassion I bet!” Massey smiled when she saw him. “Thas, my little dear,” she came around the couch and knelt in front of him. “Oh goodness, what have they done to you, child. Someone must have been fiercely angry with you this time, dear. Who done this to you, Thas?”

Thas had relaxed the moment she began to speak. Massey was one of the few people who’d always been nice to him. She was nice to all of the boys, fixing up their hurts at her own expense. She always asked something of them in return, sweeping her floor, or folding some sheets. Thas had helped her make cookies once after she’d fixed his wrist. If Massey was here, he had nothing to fear from Garvic. “Lor’ Bierres,” he said, realising his voice was still sore and scratched from screaming.

“His man I imagine,” said Garvic.

Massey growled through her teeth. “That Maruk is a right foul piece of work. Gave Mr. Baithem a black eye for bad change last week. And that Lord of his ain’t got an ounce of compassion in him. We’d all be better off if a Fade got its hand on that pair.” She reached out, her face reverting to a gentle smile. “I’m going to have to take a closer look at your hands dear; it might hurt a bit though.” Thas nodded, holding out his hands to her. He liked it when she got upset; Massey was always funny then, saying silly things like “Let the Trollocs at ‘em”. It didn’t matter if none of it was real, she seemed to like pretending that such creatures really could come and take all the cruel people away. But she never said a Trolloc or a Fade should come and get him or the other boys. Thas liked her for that.

She examined his hands as carefully as she could and Thas was surprised how little it hurt. Massey was always very gentle; it was why everyone liked her so much. But as she finished she frowned and started getting things from her bag. “Thas, I want to fix your hands, but it’s going to hurt; really hurt. Your remember how I had to straighten your wrist before I could wrap it up, right? Well some of your fingers need to be straightened in a couple places. So,” she pulled out a small piece of wood from her bag. “I’m going to put this in your mouth and I want you to bite down on it as hard as you like and scream as much as you like. I’ll be as quick as I can, dear one, but I’m afraid there’s no other way.”

Thas nodded and bit down as he was told. Massey set a small table across his knees and laid a cloth upon it. She set Thas’ hands on it gently. The she asked Garvic to put his hands on Thas’ shoulders. She told him it was very important for him to move as little as possible. Thas nodded, and tried to prepare himself, remembering how much it hurt when she’s fixed his wrist.

It was nothing like he remembered. Despite his best efforts Thas began to whimper before the third finger and was screaming by the time she moved onto his second hand. Massey worked as quickly as she could, telling him always that it wouldn’t be much longer. By the time she finished he felt dizzy and sick and was glad he hadn’t eaten anything. Garvic patted his shoulder and Massey smiled at him.

“You’re the bravest boy I know, Thas,” she said. “Now I’m going to splint them up and remember you can’t move them or they might not heal properly, okay?” Thas nodded and watched as she wrapped his fingers up, putting on layers of bandages and wood until each of his hands was a giant rigid pad of white. It felt heavy and Thas wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to do anything at all. It still hurt too, though not as much as before.

“There now, isn’t that better?” she said with a smile. “Now Mr. Garvic here tells me, he’s going to take care of you while you heal up, Thas. I want you to be extra nice to him, dear one. He doesn’t have much and he’s willing to share with you. You know how rare that is, so I’ll hear of none of your antics while you’re on the mend, clear?”

Thas nodded. He knew enough to know that until he could use his hands he was as good as dead on the streets. Stupid as people said he was, he wasn’t about to risk that.

“That’s my boy.” She patted his head affectionately. “Now, I’ll give him some tea to help you with the pain; a cup in the morning and one before bed. And a little something extra at bed to help you sleep. No more mind you, or you might not wake up. I’ll come back in a week or so to check on you.” She placed a kiss on his forehead. “Now be a good boy and don’t let me down.”

“I won’,” Thas said smiling at her. “Thanky’ Massey.”

Massey patted his shoulder. “Now, Thas, I need to talk to Mr. Garvic for a moment or two outside. Don’t you worry, I’ll send him back in a moment to get that tummy of yours filled.”

Massey and Garvic stepped into the outer shop, but the door cracked ever so slightly, letting their hushed voices filter in over the crackle of the fire.

“If you want to take care of that boy while he’s healing, then you’ve a blessed heart, but don’t fool yourself. He’s a sweet boy, but he’s trouble. Keep your valuables locked tight, don’t leave him in your shop and don’t you house him a moment longer than it takes to get him to be mended.”

“Ms. Massey I think you’re over stating things. The boy’s a street thief, but he’s no criminal. The boy’s got goodness in him, he just needs some gentleness to bring it out in him.”

“Mark my words Garvic if you don’t keep an eye on that one he’ll take you for everything he can get his little hands on.”

“Well then I won’t have to worry until his hands are working again, will I? Don’t you worry about me, Ms. Massey. You head on home now and leave the lad to me.”

When Garvic re-entered him home with a big smile on his lips, Thas still sat on the couch, making a show of examining his bandaged oversized hands. The boy returned the smile eagerly, hoping to make Garvic forget what Massey had said about him. After all, why would he want to steal from someone who had nothing? Someone who had helped him? It was silly and he found he was almost upset that Massey had said such things.

“Now, after that, I bet your stomach is hurting more than your hands right now. How’s about some stew to fill it up? Beef stew?”

Thas grinned at the mention of meat. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had any. “A’course sir, I ain’ ea’en in a long time, some stew’d be grea’!” “Then stew you shall have.”

*~*~*~*

Around it went, circling his hand, growing with each pass. Thas watched intently as Massey wound the bandage up, removing it from his hand. It had been more than a month since she put them on, nearly two in fact. His hands didn’t hurt the way they had then and he was eager to see what they looked like now. His hands shook in anticipation as she removed the last layers of splits and bandages.

Thas stared at his hands. They were thin, wrinkled, almost grotesque to look at, but hesitantly he tried to move his fingers, lightly clenching them into a fist. They ached and he was too weak to hold them very tight, but it didn’t hurt, he didn’t cry out in pain. They were normal again.

Massey smiled and tussled his hair. “See now? Nothing to worry about. You’ll have to go slow, you won’t be able to do everything right away, but I think with practice in another month you’ll be back to your good old self. You just need to find ways to practice using your hands again, and I don’t mean picking pockets.” “I have an idea,” Garvic chimed in. “How about you stay around a bit longer and help me in the store? You can keep living here as long as you keep helping me out. How’s that sound to you, Thas?”

Thas grinned, unaware of the glance that passed between the two adults. “Sure thin’, Mr Garvic. I’s c’n ‘elp y’ fer as lon’ as y’ like.”

Despite the reservations of Massey, Garvic insisted on having Thas stay with him, even well beyond the time it took for the boy to regain the use of his hands. Thas worked for and stayed with the old shop keeper for many more months, but in that time word spread like wildfire. There was one thing the boys of Tear’s alleyways hated more than anything else and that was someone who went and got themselves kept. No boy was looked down upon more than one who let one of the richer folk take care of him and get him to do real work. That wasn’t what a respectable street boy did. Money was to be stolen, not earned.

“I ‘eard Miss Massey say tha’ y’ gonna steal everythin’ righ’ out from under that ol’ shopkeep,” one of the boys said to him one day. More and more often they’d come to bother Thas when he was sweeping the step, or cleaning the windows. They enjoyed harassing him, but would never set a foot inside Garvic’s store. “Ain’ true!” Thas replied. “Mr. Garvic’s nice t’ me, I gots no reason t’ takes from ‘’im. Y’ jus’ jealus ‘cause I gots a be’ ‘n’ food ‘n’ y’ don’.”

Some of the boys laughed. “Never thought I’d see you as a kept one, Thas. You used to have the run of the pockets around here and now yer cleanin’ steps for food. Ain’t nothin’ sadder than that. I hates to see a good thief fall into reput’ble hands. They ain’t never gonna come back after that.”

“Shu’ up!” Thas shouted. “Shu’ up ‘n’ ge’ outta ‘ere! I’s come back t’ th’ stree’s when I feels like I’, so jus’ shu’ up and leave m’ be!”

The boys laughed and jeered at him and Thas knew that they might be right. After all, he could have left Garvic at any time, but he didn’t. He was getting used to having a full stomach, or at least a less empty one and a bed to sleep in at night. The cold stone of the alleyways didn’t appeal to him at all, regardless of all the annoying chores he had to do. Besides which, it was being made very clear to him that even if he could bring himself to go back, none of the others would want him.

Suddenly the laughter grew quite and Thas tried to peer between the taller boys to see what had gotten their attention. A figure was walking down the street towards the store; a figure that Thas remembered very well indeed, and judging from the speed at which the other boys vacated, they knew him well too. It was Maruk.

Fear rushed through him like a sudden downpour and Thas fled into the shop, letting his broom clatter noisily against the wooden floor. He ducked behind the counter and huddled in the corner hugging his knees against his chest. His fingers ached continuously at the mere memory of what the man had done to him. He just sat there and trembled.

“Thas, what in the name of…” Garvic trailed off as the bell above the door rang and the large man stepped into the shop. “Greetings to you, sir. What can I get for you this fine day?”

“My Lord Bierres is planning to send a caravan north.” Thas shuddered, the sound of the man’s voice was all too familiar. “It’s a six week journey and supplies will be needed; food, water, blankets and some other necessities. I was informed your prices are reasonable. Here is the complete list. I’ll expect it ready by the end of next week.”

“Ah, of course sir,” Thas could tell from Garvic’s voice that he was concerned. He also knew that Garvic couldn’t read any better than he could. The list must have been impressive, for Garvic to be so concerned without even knowing what it contained. Thas didn’t move. “By the end of next week, very good.”

Only the sound of Maruk’s heavy boots and the tingle of the bell as the door opened and closed could be heard. Thas and Garvic waited in silence, for the longest time. Then Garvic knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his head. “You okay there, Thas?” He smiled warmly, though Thas could see worry in his eyes. “Nothing to be afraid of, my boy. Maruk’s gone and from what I’ve heard of him he won’t be back until his order is due. Here now, stand up; I need you to mind the shop while I go get this list read to me. Can you do that, Thas?”

Thas nodded numbly, rubbing at his fingers as he pulled himself up. They still ached. He tried not to think about it, but having seen Maruk again, it was all his mind would settle on. He was grateful that no one came in while Garvic was out, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to pick anything up.

When Garvic came back he was concerned about the length of the list, but seemed to think if they worked hard they could get everything ready. Over boiled cabbage and potatoes they talked about where to get the extra supplies and how best to store everything until the man returned. But Thas had trouble keeping his mind on Garvic’s concerns about the caravan. Even with Maruk long gone and a satisfying dinner in his stomach his fingers continued to ache well into the evening.

The next week and a half were the most miserable Thas had experienced since he started working with Garvic. He spent most of his days out running errands, helping Garvic collect everything that was necessary. Once his trip had taken him into a part of the city he’d never even seen before. It had been an amazing experience, though he’d been chided for taking too long to return. Frequently when the others boys saw him out and about, they made a point of harassing him and one or two tried to steal the purse Garvic had given him to buy the extra supplies with. He tried to ignore them, but as the days grew longer and he began to tire from all the work, Thas couldn’t help but remember how little work he’d had to do to pick a simple pocket. It was certainly an easier way to get money for your meals.

By the end of the following week they had managed to pull together everything that was on Maruk’s list, plus a little extra just in case. The night before Garvic had told Thas he would have to help with the loading the next day which had resulted in an argument.

“Bu’ ‘e’s gonna be ther’. I’s ‘frai’ o’ ‘im. I don’ wan’ no mor’ fin’ers bro’en. Y’ can’ make m’ do i’!”

“Thas,” Garvic said, rubbing his arm. “He’s not going to hurt you, I promise. Maruk probably won’t even be there the whole time. Assuming he even remembers you, he had no reason to hurt you again.”

“’e don’ gotta ‘ave a reason, ‘e’d do i’ again i’ ‘e can!” Thas protested. “My boy, I need your help. I can’t pick up all of those containers by myself, you know that. Now I promise you, Maruk is not going to hurt you, again. I’ll see to it.”

Ultimately Thas agreed, but he barely slept that night, for the aches in his hand. The next morning, the wagons arrived nice and early. Three of them were required to carry all the supplies Garvic had been commissioned for. Thas had barely broken his fast before he was hurried back to the storage room to start bringing out boxes. The mule drivers helped as well, two of them bringing the boxes themselves, the third taking them from Thas when he reached the store front. They worked through most of the morning, hauling the supplies. Thas was sweating furiously.

Shortly before midday the third wagon driver got called away and Thas was forced to begin carrying the supplies all the way out to the wagon. On his third trip, he rounded the back only to find Maruk there inspecting the crates. The man smiled toothily when he saw Thas.

“Thought you’d help out, little rat?” Maruk hissed. He swatted at the box in Thas’ hand. The container tumbled to the ground, spilling nuts and dried fruits onto the street. Maruk advanced on him and sneered. “That’s Lord Bierres’ property you’re fouling up, rat. You do remember what happens to people who try to take the Lord’s property away from him, don’t you?” The man grabbed his hand and Thas screamed.

Maruk’s hand gripped tightly to his, his muscles fingers wrapping around the joints in Thas’ hand preparing to rip them apart again. Thas clawed at him, kicked, begged and screamed, desperately trying to free himself. Terror flooded through him unlike anything he could remember, terror even beyond what he’d known the last time Maruk had had his hands on him.

“Now, just what is going on here?”

As if Garvic’s words had given him strength, Thas pulled one last time and freed himself from Maruk’s grasp. He scrambled behind the old man, clutching his trembling hand to his chest.

Maruk sneered. “You’re little pet dropped one of the crates. I was making sure he understood the severity of damaging my Lord’s property.”

Garvic smiled. “There’s no need for that, sir, as I recall I’ve an extra crate in the back that Lord Bierres may have instead. The boy’s my responsibility, so I’ll take the loss and see that he’s sufficiently punished. You need not worry about that.”

Maruk’s eyes narrowed and he frowned for a moment, and then nodded. “Of course, that’ll be just fine, just be sure the little… child… doesn’t drop anything else.”

“Of course sir,” Garvic started leading him back inside. “I’ll see that he doesn’t.” “Oh, and little one, as I recall there’s a promise I made that still needs fulfilling. Don’t worry, I won’t forget so easily.” Maruk laughed and then turned his attention to the wagon drivers.

Garvic lead Thas inside, having him sit on the stool behind the counter. He claimed he still needed someone to watch things, in case another customer came in, but Thas knew the truth. Garvic wanted to keep him close in case Maruk decided to seek him out.

Thas huddled on the small stool, hugging his arms about him. His fingers ached; the one hand still trembled from the feel of Maruk’s callused fingers against his skin. He watched crate after crate be carried out of the store and all he could think about was what Maruk had said. A promise that needed fulfilling. Thas knew what it was. How could he forget? The words that night, everything Maruk had said, when Thas hadn’t been howling so loud as to not hear him, every word was burned into his mind. If I ever see you again, I’ll make you apologise until there’s not an intact bone left in your body. If I ever see you again…

With those words echoing in his mind Thas knew what he needed to do. He needed to leave and he needed to do it tonight. Not just Garvic, he needed to leave everything; the shop, the boys, the streets, everything. He needed to leave it all. He needed to get out of Tear. A daunting, expensive and dangerous task to say the least. Once he’d heard a man say that desperation was a great source of ingenuity. He’d had to ask someone what it meant. If someone was desperate enough to do something, they could always think of a way. And Thas knew what he had to do. He knew that there was only one way out of Tear; only one way he could get far enough away that Maruk wouldn’t be able to find him. Only one way…

The caravan wasn’t loaded and the supplies fully inspected until near sundown. The wagons left just as it started to rain and Garvic was forced to allow Maruk to come inside while they settled accounts. Thas watched from the stool, never taking his eyes off the large man. Maruk for his part just gave Thas a vicious smile before tending to his duties.

“It’s been pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Garvic,” the man said, most amicably. He passed a large purse to Garvic and did his best to smile. Thas knew from talking to Garvic that the bag was supposed to contain well over twenty crowns. A small fortune to any man. “My master is most pleased. You may look forward to our business in the future. Good day to you.”

With Maruk out the door, Garvic locked it and pulled the blinds down before turning around, a sparkle in his eyes. The incident from before seemed to have vanished from his mind as he clutched the purse of gold. “Thas, can you believe it? Supplying a whole caravan? And perhaps more in the future. I’ve never made so much in a single month, let alone a single sale. We should celebrate.” He grinned, looking very boyish. “I’ll go get a get us a feast for tonight, you deserve it after such hard work.” And after such a rough day.

Thas returned the grin, his stomach rumbling at the prospect of an elaborate meal. At the same time he felt a little sick, though he had no idea why. “Sounds good ta me, sir.”

Garvic mussed his hair. “Good lad, now mind the shop ‘til I get back.”

Thas nodded. “A’course sir. I’ll mind ‘er good.”

The moment Garvic was out of sight, Thas slipped down off the stool and began to pack. Lucky for him, they hadn’t needed some of the extra blankets and dried food. There was a water canteen, a lantern and some medical ointments too. He grabbed some warmer clothes from his bed and shoved them in too. Thas packed it all up into one of the large carry packs, leaving room at the top for a few more things. Then he began to search the room for the last thing he needed. He wasn’t particular; anything would do the job really. He just wanted to be sure the first time; there might not be a second chance. Finally he found something that would work.

And then he waited, hovering in the shadows. Night fell over the city and the store, but Thas lit no candles. He just waited in the darkness, with only his thoughts for company. It was not unlike the nights he’d spent in the alleys, save for the fact the building was a touch warmer. Alone and with a chill in his feet he waited.

Eventually the door opened again and Garvic stepped into the shop. He called out, but Thas didn’t answer. He waited, watching as the older man shut and locked the door and placed his bundle and lantern on the counter. Then quiet as a mouse Thas snuck up behind him, raised the rolling pin and smashed it into the back of Garvic’s head. The man crumpled to the floor without a sound, leaving Thas again alone in the darkness.

He tossed aside his weapon and dug into the bundle that Garvic had brought back. The fresh meat would do him no good, but the bread, cheese and fruit would last a few days at least. He crammed it all into the top of his pack and sealed it up. Then he took the lantern and knelt beside Garvic.

The man looked much older, lying as he was. Thas didn’t see any blood, which meant he probably hadn’t hit him too hard. He didn’t know anything about people or how the body worked. Ms. Massey would know if Garvic was okay, but Thas couldn’t go to her, because she had known what he would do. She’d stop him. No, Garvic would have to take his chances just like the rest of the world. Thas was doing what he had to, to survive and that was all that mattered. Without another moment’s hesitation Thas clipped the heavy purse from Garvic’s belt and headed out.

Stars shone on the streets that night, with only a hint of the rain clouds that had earlier darkened the sky. Thas slipped silently down the streets, careful to avoid the back alleys. He knew what would happen if any of the boys realised the prizes he carried. He avoided all people, all lights, keeping himself as hidden as he could. Within an hour he was far beyond the city and into the open countryside.

He continued along the road, late into the evening, stopping only once his feet wouldn’t carry him any further. He settled into a small outcropping of bushes along the road, and placed his pack beneath him as a pillow, lest it be stolen out from under him. The purse he tucked into his breeches to be truly safe, unaware that it contained nearly double what he expected and that he would waste it all inside of a month.

Thas slept badly that night, used to the bed he’d slept in for so many months. The evening passed slowly and silently, with not a single traveler on the road, but still he did not sleep. A head of him laid darkness and the unknown, cities and people and a future like nothing he’d even imagined. Behind him lay the only home he’d ever know; so far away now that the only sign of it was the Stone’s black silhouette against the night sky.