door.
“Enjoy your bread, maggots. Then
it’s time for work.”
The boys lucky enough to get some
bread quickly chewed it and turned to follow Red eye back through the door. The
sky had lightened, and the first hint of sunshine was beginning to shine.
Quinton strolled over to Teli, who was still dejectedly standing in the spot
that marked where he had fallen. He held out his hand and handed the boy a piece
of bread that he had palmed.
“Kept a piece for you,” he said.
A sad smile came to his face that
quickly faded. He took the piece of bread, popped it in his mouth, then began
walking towards the doorway.
“I’ll teach you how to climb,”
Quinton told him, trying to cheer him up.
Teli nodded. “If I survive the
punishment, I would like that.”
Quinton wondered again what the
boy’s punishment would be. Beating? That seemed to be a popular choice. They
strolled back into the building and down a different hallway than they came
from. Red eye stood by a door open to the outside. Quinton could see
townspeople strolling by and the occasional oxen or horse clattered by pulling
a cart. Each boy approached the door and was handed a small bag. Red eye handed
him the bag and pushed him out the door.
“Fill it up, or don’t bother coming
back,” he warned.
Quinton was puzzled. “Fill it up
with what, Master Red eye?” Some other boys nearby laughed as they moved past
him.
“Stolen goods,” he said flatly.
“Valuables. Silver. Food. Whatever. Just fill it up.” He slammed the door, and
Quinton could hear the bolt lock it in place.
He turned to look for Teli, but he
didn’t see him.
“Come on, maggot,” said another boy
with brown curly hair. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Consider it payment for
the bread you gave me.” He started to trot down the street. All the boys were
fanning out down several different roads and alleyways.
Quinton looked at his empty bag,
then hurried to catch up. “Hey, wait up.” The boy was moving quickly, his curly
hair bouncing with every step.
“We’ll go down past Turnbull, then
head for the area between the docks and the Old Quarter. There’s usually pretty
good pickings down there.”
Quinton wanted to ask a question,
but the boy sped up and started weaving through people, carts and animals, most
of them headed for the market in the middle of town. Even though it was still
early, farmers had left well before sunrise to make sure they got a good spot
to sell their wares.
The boys meandered through narrow
streets and an occasional alley. Quinton had never been in this part of town
before, so he tried to pay attention to landmarks and unique buildings so that
he might find his way back if he were separated. The crowds thinned as they
moved further from the center of town, but there were still quite a few people
walking around, most of them not very friendly looking. At last the other boy
stopped at a corner. Across the street was a woman standing on a small box,
preaching to passersby. Her hair was dark and pulled back in a ponytail bound
with a small wisp of white ribbon. Her voice carried across the rough
cobblestone street.
“The time to take responsibility
for our plight is now,” she said loudly to those passing by, none of whom paid
her any attention. “Our children lie destitute in the street while the lords
get fat on our work. Will you not lend a helping hand to those in need?”
The other boy smiled and looked
over at Quinton. “Turnbull,” he said. “Lady Turnbull. Runs some sort of church
or somethin’. Always yelling at people about their evil lives and the poor
condition of us childrens.” He turned to listen to her for a bit more, then
added, “We don’t never steal from her. Not sure why, we just don’t. Not that
Fist, Master Fist that is, ever said not to, it’s just we kind of decided on
our own to not rob her.” He listened for a few more moments, then looked back
over at Quinton. “Name’s Huck. I’m Magpie’s maggot. You
“Enjoy your bread, maggots. Then
it’s time for work.”
The boys lucky enough to get some
bread quickly chewed it and turned to follow Red eye back through the door. The
sky had lightened, and the first hint of sunshine was beginning to shine.
Quinton strolled over to Teli, who was still dejectedly standing in the spot
that marked where he had fallen. He held out his hand and handed the boy a piece
of bread that he had palmed.
“Kept a piece for you,” he said.
A sad smile came to his face that
quickly faded. He took the piece of bread, popped it in his mouth, then began
walking towards the doorway.
“I’ll teach you how to climb,”
Quinton told him, trying to cheer him up.
Teli nodded. “If I survive the
punishment, I would like that.”
Quinton wondered again what the
boy’s punishment would be. Beating? That seemed to be a popular choice. They
strolled back into the building and down a different hallway than they came
from. Red eye stood by a door open to the outside. Quinton could see
townspeople strolling by and the occasional oxen or horse clattered by pulling
a cart. Each boy approached the door and was handed a small bag. Red eye handed
him the bag and pushed him out the door.
“Fill it up, or don’t bother coming
back,” he warned.
Quinton was puzzled. “Fill it up
with what, Master Red eye?” Some other boys nearby laughed as they moved past
him.
“Stolen goods,” he said flatly.
“Valuables. Silver. Food. Whatever. Just fill it up.” He slammed the door, and
Quinton could hear the bolt lock it in place.
He turned to look for Teli, but he
didn’t see him.
“Come on, maggot,” said another boy
with brown curly hair. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Consider it payment for
the bread you gave me.” He started to trot down the street. All the boys were
fanning out down several different roads and alleyways.
Quinton looked at his empty bag,
then hurried to catch up. “Hey, wait up.” The boy was moving quickly, his curly
hair bouncing with every step.
“We’ll go down past Turnbull, then
head for the area between the docks and the Old Quarter. There’s usually pretty
good pickings down there.”
Quinton wanted to ask a question,
but the boy sped up and started weaving through people, carts and animals, most
of them headed for the market in the middle of town. Even though it was still
early, farmers had left well before sunrise to make sure they got a good spot
to sell their wares.
The boys meandered through narrow
streets and an occasional alley. Quinton had never been in this part of town
before, so he tried to pay attention to landmarks and unique buildings so that
he might find his way back if he were separated. The crowds thinned as they
moved further from the center of town, but there were still quite a few people
walking around, most of them not very friendly looking. At last the other boy
stopped at a corner. Across the street was a woman standing on a small box,
preaching to passersby. Her hair was dark and pulled back in a ponytail bound
with a small wisp of white ribbon. Her voice carried across the rough
cobblestone street.
“The time to take responsibility
for our plight is now,” she said loudly to those passing by, none of whom paid
her any attention. “Our children lie destitute in the street while the lords
get fat on our work. Will you not lend a helping hand to those in need?”
The other boy smiled and looked
over at Quinton. “Turnbull,” he said. “Lady Turnbull. Runs some sort of church
or somethin’. Always yelling at people about their evil lives and the poor
condition of us childrens.” He turned to listen to her for a bit more, then
added, “We don’t never steal from her. Not sure why, we just don’t. Not that
Fist, Master Fist that is, ever said not to, it’s just we kind of decided on
our own to not rob her.” He listened for a few more moments, then looked back
over at Quinton. “Name’s Huck. I’m Magpie’s maggot. You
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