Polymath (𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓟𝓛𝓔𝓣𝓔)

Rogue

"Arvath?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I need you to go to Codwallow."

"Codwallow? When?"

"Leave in the morning. You need to be there in a week. Take this pouch. I want you to go to an establishment called the Lucky Die. Gamble in the game of your choice."

"But I don't gamble, sir!!"

"You do now."

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Rogue

"Thief! Thief!" The cry of the street vendor echoed across the market, shrill in the morning air. Guards came running to the call.

Inali looked down from her perch in the rafters of the stable. Back in the shadows, she was hidden from view, but she could see the whole of the market and the streets around her. She saw the child slinking through the alley looking desperately for a place to hide. In moments she was sliding out from her sanctuary and climbing along the edge of the roof. The child—a boy of eight or so—gave a startled gasp when Inali dropped lightly to the ground at his side.

"Follow me." Neither the phrasing or the tone made it a request, and it had the desired effect of forestalling any argument. The child came after as Inali began a confusing path through the alleys and odd spaces between the buildings. For all the twists and turns they covered ground swiftly, until Inali turned to the boy. "Up you go," she said pointing to a small garret door above. She made a stirrup with her hands. "I'll give you boost."

The lad was up and through the door in a trice, and Inali followed right behind. As she came through the door, she motioned for him to be quiet as she shut the door and leaned against it, listening. It was not long before she heard voices. The guards did not stop, but went right on by, still talking about the difficulty of finding the boy in the maze of alleys.

As the voices faded away, Inali turned to find the lad silently but hungrily eating the loaf that he had purloined. She went to her food cache and pulled out a chunk of cheese and a water skin, then crawled over to sit by the child. Cutting a bit off the cheese, she offered it to him. He looked surprised, but took the morsel.

"There's water here." She shook the skin. The lad was dark, she saw, although not as dark as she was. His skin and hair was merely deep brown, while her skin and short cap of curls were black as a crow's wing. His eyes were also brown, and looked very large in his thin face. He didn't seem disconcerted over the gleaming gold of Inali's eyes, like some were. "What's your name, boy?"

"Yurl."

"Where are you from?"

"I came from Middlebend," said the boy between bites. "I was 'prenticed to a weaver, but he beat me so I ran away. Some fella name Gnasher said if'n I proved myself, I could join the thieves guild."

"You're a lousy thief, Yurl," she said levelly. 'Apprentice' was often a fancy word for a slave, and children in such positions were often abused—physically, emotionally and even sexually. But Gnasher ... she put aside the rush of anger for the moment. That mangy dog found amusement in inciting foolish children to steal, uncaring of the consequences it brought to them. "Is the weaver gone, then?"

"Aye." The boy looked crestfallen but defiant. "An' I'd rather starve than go back to 'em anyway."

"You'll not be sent back," Inali reassured him. "Since you're such a bad thief, I'll have to take you to the Lady. She runs a sort of school for orphans."