The Silver Crown

3.

Tobin is not really my brother. Not in the blood way, at least. He is my brother in every other way. I would do anything for him.

I met him on the streets a few years back. I was twelve. He was only seven, and a cute kid: blonde hair, brown eyes, clear skin. I was surprised, when I saw him wander over to me, that the slavers hadn't taken him yet. They like cute kids.

Then, I realized as I comprehended the panic on his face and the manacle around his wrist, that they had already found him. Something made me call out to the kid. He looked at me, skeptical, but clearly thinking I was a better bet than whichever heavily muscled and tattooed guy he had chasing after him.

He hurried over to me and I examined the manacle. "What did you do, boy?" I asked him. His lip was bleeding and bruises lined his arms.

"M' ma didna have money to pay them for her dust. I didna know what to do. She took me t' the slavers and sold me. I tried to escape. I kicked one a' them and ran. I don't know what t' do!" The little kid was rambling and mumbling from fear so bad that I only picked up a few words but pieced together the majority of the story. A common drug in Arovia is dragon dust. It comes on the ships from Zibiet, across the Jade Sea.

"Just calm down," I said. "I can get this off o' you." I carried lock picks around everywhere. I grabbed the kid's wrist, tugging the dirt-streaked thing closer to me. I took the long pick and shoved it in, caressing the tumblers in the lock smoothly and deftly. I had had a lot of practice unlocking things that weren't meant to be unlocked.

I used my second pick to knock the last finicky tumbler into place and yanked the manacle open.

The kid yanked his wrist out as soon as he could. I understood; it's not a comfortable feeling to know that you are locked up.

"Your name?" I asked the kid.

He looked at me suspiciously. He was clearly a Lower City kid; we learned young to be wary of everyone.

I raised my eyebrow, silently reminding him that I had just freed him.

"Tobin," he said strongly, not one to be cowed by a girl five years his elder and much taller.

"I'm Kade," I said. On the street trading information is expected.

Realizing that I didn't know what to do with the kid, I said, "Follow me."

The kid—Tobin—did. I led him through some back allies, passing others whose typical motives were just as questionable as mine. We weaved through side streets, narrow and crowded with trash and waste. I wanted to avoid any main roads where slavers might be looking for Tobin.

We reached the slave pens. I shuddered in disgust and loathing. I peaked around the corner to see a woman, clearly on dust, arguing with a tall man with a cruel smile. The woman's hair was dank and tangled, hanging down past her shoulders. Her dress was dirty and her arms skinny and pale. I knew that if I had gotten closer, I could have seen the bloodshot whites of her eyes and shrunken pupils. I also could have smelled the sweet sickly stench of the dust.

She was clearly irritated, probably something about not getting any money for a boy who ran away. Never mind that selling children to the slavers is illegal.

The woman started to scream at the man, who just smiled deeper, his snake eyes glinting.

It only took a few moments for a guard from the Day Watch to show up with his partner. He only had to get close enough to get a whiff of the woman before he took his cords and tied her hands behind her back; dragon dust was illegal.

Clearly the kid's ma wasn't going to be taking care of him anytime soon.

"Well, shit," I told the kid, spinning around to look at him. He was watching his mother scream and rave at the guards as they hauled her away to the holding cells, waiting for the second day of the week, the day that the arrested were sentenced by the provost's judge.

Tobin's eyes were hard; he didn't care about his mother. She was only the woman who had given birth to him. If I had to guess, I would say that since she started with the dust, she hadn't been a very good ma. He wouldn't miss her much.

"Well, kid," I said. "Looks like you're on your own now." Even though he was seven, I was just going to leave him. I was younger than he was when I was forced to go off on my own. I had survived. He would too. And if he didn't, it wasn't my fault. "Now get."

I set off down the street, looking for whatever struck my fancy today. It was a lonely life, but at least no one ever told me what to do.

After only a few minutes, I realized that the kid was still with me. He tailed me for two more hours. No matter how many times I turned to glare at him or told him to "leave me alone," Tobin wouldn't give up. He was too determined to not be on his own. I didn't know if it was a survival instinct or if he was that set on making himself a family since he had just lost his.

Finally I had had enough. His eyes on my back had become too much.

"Kid," I barked. He slunk out from behind a corner, blue eyes wide. "If you can't keep up, I'm not waiting," I said. Tobin stayed by my side the rest of the day.

I took him to the small corner in the ally I normally slept in. I settled on a small pile of rags and told him to sleep in the other corner. Just before I fell asleep, I felt him lay down with his back to mine. I grumbled but allowed it. Since then he was always with me.

Until two weeks ago.