The Beautiful Thief

Chapter One

    I slip into the streets, moving with the sea of people walking along the pathways. Darting through the gaps of people, I keep my head down, searching. When I find a man with a coin pouch dangling from his side, I walk in his direction.

    My feet dance along the cobble stone street, silent in their march. Reaching out my left arm, I swiftly pull the small coin pouch from the man's side. He doesn't notice. No one ever does, not until it's too late anyway. Continuing on with my swift and silent motions, I grab another coin pouch. The weight of the coins makes me smile, and the clink of them are music to my ears.

     Before long, my pockets are to heavy to move quietly along the street, so I set off toward my unit. We don't call them houses here. They're just grey boxes of concrete, raised of the ground by cinder blocks. One of the beggars from the street grabs my hand. I turn, not wanting to.

     I spare a coin, pulling it from my pocket as I go, plopping it into the hands of the awaiting beggar. She smiles, her teeth mostly gone, rotted from never brushing them. Giving a kind smile, I turn my head and continue on my walk. As I reach my unit, I see a bright sheet of white paper stuck the door.

     My stomach lurches, but I continue up the steps. NOTICE, is printed in big letters across the top. I pull the sheet from the wooden doors, ripping off a corner in the process. I begin to read.

       Your presence has been requested by the palace. Every woman from fifteen to eighteen in the house is to come to the nearest security office tomorrow at noon. Five will be picked from each sector, then the rest will be sent back to their units. If you fail to comply, you will be fined five gallows.
                Peace be with you,
                     King Hancer.
 
       Five gallows. That is two years wages for Greys. My mouth hangs ajar as I enter my unit. "Adelaide, is that you dear?" my mother calls.

       Not able to find the words, I walk back to her and hand her the sheet. She can't read it, she never learned. "I have to go to the security office tomorrow, or they'll dock us five gallows."

        Mother's eyes pop open and she gasps. "What for?" I shrug my shoulders and she sits beside me. "It can't be that bad. Maybe they're just giving us some new rules."

       "The King has ordered every fifteen year old to eighteen year old girl to the security office. That's not good mother. What if we have to go work in The Pits."

        "The wouldn't send women to the pits Adelaide, we're here to work as house maids, not miners." She stands from the couch, patting my knee as she does. "All will be well my dear," she says. Just like always.

      I hear clanging from the kitchen and stand to my feet. Mother stirs a something in the pot. Catching a whiff of it, I already know what it is. Preserved soup. She sets the still hot pot on the wobbly table, and hands me a spoon and cup.

      In turn, I remove the coin pouches from my pockets and plop them on the table. "Adelaide Nash, I raised you better than to steal from the poor ands hungry."

      "Not the poor and hungry mother. Reds. You know they shop in the town. We have trinkets the can't resist."

      "Still Adelaide, you're going to get caught one day and they'll chop off your hands."

       "I won't get caught. I'm to fast for those fat Reds." She tries to cover it, but I see a smile ebb onto her face. "They eat more than they weigh, while we're stuck here eating preserved soup. It's not fair mother," I whine like a child, annoying to my own ears.

      "Hush child, some may be fat and disgusting, but they pay half a high note for me cleaning a house."

       "Which goes right back to his Royal Highness the ass of all asses."

       "Bite your tongue. If someone hears you talking like that they'll have your head." Rolling my eyes, I place my bowl and spoon in the washing unit. "Dress in your dress I got you tomorrow. It'll look pretty." I shake my head and climb the well worn stairs to my room.

       Changing out of my burlap pants and cotton shirt, I pull on a shirt that belonged to my father. My bed beckons, but my day is not over. The window creaks as I open it and place a bread stump on the sill.

      The mouse that lodges outside on the ledge, scampers toward me and grabs the bread. I named him Jerry, from an animation sequence centuries ago. Every night I set out a piece of bread, if not something else, and he comes and eats.

      I run my finger along the soft fur on his back and he continues to eat. When he's finished, he stares at me until I scoop him up. Placing him in the wire cage I had fashioned, he crawls under soft scraps of old clothing.

      "Goodnight Jerry." I turn out my lantern and shut the window with effort. Lying awake leaves me alone with the fear of tomorrow. Jerry scratches at the wood floor of his cage, giving me less than silence.

      I begin to him a tune my mother has long since forgotten. It's a tune my father hummed when worked, keeping his mind off the immense debt we were in. I hum until my eyes droop, and the fear of tomorrow melts away.

       My dreamless sleep is followed by the call of a wild chicken, waking me from my endless night. Rolling off the bed, I see that mother has left out the dress adorned with swirls of flowers. Quick bringing that mouse in Adelaide, you're going to get attached. I smile, when I see a lone grape sitting in the corner of Jerry's cage.

       My smile fades we I realize what's today. Pulling on the dress, I press a kiss to my finger, the a finger o Jerry's head. "Wish me luck little friend."