The Royal Thief

Chapter Seventeen: Scuffle in the City

The man grunted as he hit the ground and his knife went skittering. Unfortunately, his noise alerted the other two guys and the larger one turned and caught my fist before I could break his nose. I retaliated by kneeing him in the stomach repeatedly until he staggered backwards and I got a solid punch in his shoulder.

By then, the first man had recovered and he sprang up, gabbing me from behind. I tried kicking backwards but that didn't help. He dragged me towards the entrance of the alley, his grip on my arms so tight I was sure it he would leave bruises.

"Argh!" I grunted, ripping one arm free to grab a handful of his hair. He howled and his grip loosened momentarily, allowing me to barrel out of his arms and back into the alley, straight into the chest of the larger one. He grabbed me in a death-grip and the man I had hit first slapped me on the back of my head. Something funny happened to my vision as pain exploded along a gash in my skin. He was wearing a ring and its edge was sharp. For a moment my legs went weak and I sagged in his arms as his crony bashed me again. Before he could try a third time I had recovered, and started kicking, scratching, bashing my head on his chest. Unable to hit me without hurting each other, they were confused enough for me to yank an arm free and pull a knife from my belt.

I knew I had connected when one of them screamed. He also cursed, very loudly, and knelt to the ground, clutching his stomach, leaving the other one to face me. Our blades clashed and my arm buckled but I sidestepped his slash and shoved him head-first into the ground.

But I'd forgotten there were three of them.

I felt him grab my arms behind my back and crush me, face-first, against the brick wall. I gasped as my nose broke with a crack of bone and blood gushed down my face. I could feel it soaking my shirt but that was hardly the worst of my worries. I sucked in a breath and tried to hold it but it came out in a whimper of pain. He twisted my arms and kept my head pressed against the wall. It still throbbed from my hit, and my vision was spinning.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "What are you doing?"

I pressed my mouth closed, trying to hold in a wail of pain.

"Who are you?" He shouted, and I felt, rather than heard, the vibration of a knife being pulled from his boot. 

And then suddenly the weight of him was gone. There was a short gasp of pain and then a thunk. A body hitting the ground.

I turned around and nearly fell, the world spinning dangerously. I pressed a hand over my nose and felt its shapelessness. It was hard to breath. Warm blood pooled in my palm and overflowed. "Who's there?" I asked.

"Me. Beck."

Squinting in the cloudy darkness, I identified him, or at least his shadow, a few feet away, stiff and awkward. "What are you... where did you come from?" My words sounded slightly slurred and I wondered if I had been hit harder than I accounted for.

"I heard the fight. And then I saw that he had you trapped so I... you know." He looked down at the hump of fabric and flesh on the ground. "We should get out of here."

I drew a shuddering breath, trying to get my thoughts in order. Why was I even here? Right. I'd heard shouting. But who?

Turning, I squinted into the shadows. There was nothing-- no. A small movement. A piece of darkness detached itself form the rest of the shadow and stuttered backwards a few steps, revealing a small boy with sticking-up hair and too-pale skin, eyes wide and terrified. Clutched in his hands was a canvas sack painted with a black feather. He cast a long, big-eyed look at me and Back and moved his lips in what might have been a thank you, then scampered away.

"Right," I muttered, unsteady on my feet. "Away. Let's get away."

Beck grabbed my arm and helped me over the body. The other two men were nowhere to be seen.

"Morane?" Jaden was waiting in front of the inn, the horses' reigns in his hand. "You weren't in the stable and the boy hadn't-- Lord. What happened?" The flickering lamplight from the windows of the inn had fallen across my face and he dropped the reigns to grab my chin and hold my head still.

"My nose is broken."

"Yes, I can see that!" He handed me a wadded up piece of fabric and I used it to stem the flow of blood as he ran a hand gently over my head, finding the bumps and cut from the ring. He shook his head. "This is bad. We need to get you a proper healer."

"I'm fine."

He ignored me, probably because I always said that, no matter how hurt I was. "Beck, thank you."

"Wha-- me? I didn't do anything."

You killed a man.

"You helped her. Maybe saved her life."

"Oh, she was doing okay on her own." His voice was embarrassed. "I just finished things up."

Jaden looked at me again. Before I could try and argue he said firmly, "Healer. Now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. After the fight in the alley, Jaden insisted on taking me to a healer's shop where he banged on the door until a cranky, tired woman opened it. She spent a long time examining my head before declaring there was nothing wrong with me, and smeared a fowl-smelling ointment on the cut, muttering something about rusty metal and infections. Then she dipped her fingers in a jar of what looked like water, except that when she touched my nose they were cold and hard as ice. She did something painful to it that put it back in its correct place and made my whole head feel like it was alternately on fire or dunked in a snow bank. At the look on my face, Jaden cracked a smile and said he didn't like healing magic either.

After the regular activities at the match house and the fight in the alley and the trip to the healers, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. But there was one thing I wanted a bit more.

One perk to living up in the new towers was that, as the only part of the palace built over the underground lakes, it was the only part where the engineers had found a way to bring water all the way up without buckets. And, even better, it was steaming hot. I filled the tub, stripped off my clothes, and sank in until my head was covered.

Finally.

Surfacing, I drew a full breath of cold air and laid my cheek on the greenish metal rim. 

Beck killed that man.

That boy's sack had a feather on it just like the one on the sign.

Jaden wasn't even surprised that I got in a fight?

He died right in front of me.

Well, right in back of me.

What was in the sack?

Beck killed that man.

The feather on the sack.

Why did I my head hurt so much?

I closed my eyes and let the darkness sink over me. Without the flickering light of the candles or faint moonlight through the window, the shadows condensed and sharpened into three images.

The man lying on the ground.

The feather on the bag.

The look on Beck's face when he saw the boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And we have a new character! Any ideas? As always, votes are appreiciated and comments are better than cookies :D