The thief had disappeared, but Bel spotted a flight of steps up the back of a building with an open doorway at the top. From somewhere inside came the sound of glass smashing. He bounded up the stairs and through the door, into a low-roofed room full of crates. He guessed it was some kind of storage area for the tavern beneath. At the far end light came in through dusty windows, one of which was broken. Bel made his way between the crates, coming to the shattered window and poking his head through just in time to see a foot disappearing up onto the roof. He kicked out the remaining glass and clambered through the window, reaching up to grasp the edge of the roof. With a mighty heave he pulled himself up, flinging a leg over for purchase. On the roof, he took a moment to find his balance on the tiles then made for the peak. He saw the thief below him: a ratty little man with a gemstone pendant around his neck.
‘Stay right there!’ called Bel.
The thief screwed up his face in response, then stepped off the roof. Bel heard him land on wood and realised he’d jumped back down onto the stairs they’d both come up. He cursed and followed, coming down on the stairs as the thief was running up the alley. A few more paces and he would be back amongst the crowds, where he would easily disappear.
If I’m to bring down Fenvarrow , thought Bel, I should be able to handle one thief. He pulled out his boot knife and sent it flashing towards the thief, now some thirty paces away. It thudded into the man’s thigh, bringing him down heavily. Bel trotted down the stairs, chuckling. I’m impressive, no doubt about it. How many could make a shot like that?
When he arrived, the thief was worming around on the ground, which made it difficult to retrieve the knife. ‘Keep still, you rat-haired turd,’ muttered Bel, cuffing the man over the head. He grabbed the knife and pulled it free, wiping the blade on the thief’s shirt before sliding it back into his boot. He grabbed the little man by the collar and dragged him, protesting, back down the alley to Hiza. Hiza was propped up against a wall, being helped by a young couple who’d seen him fall. Apart from being pale, he contained his pain well. Bel dumped the thief unceremoniously on the cobblestones before him.
‘How is it?’ he asked.
Hiza winced. ‘Broken, I think. Had worse as a boy, when at least I had gangly limbs to blame for such clumsiness.’
‘You hear that, rat?’ said Bel to the thief. ‘My partner’s injured because of you.’ He kicked the thief in the ribs and the little man whimpered.
‘Don’t hurt me, sir! I ain’t goin’ nowhere!’
‘How correct you are,’ said Bel. He turned to the couple, who were looking on nervously, and shook his head. ‘Some people just have to ruin it for the rest of us. Thanks for helping my partner.’ He produced a gold coin from a leather purse. ‘Take this, from Kainordas. If you would hurry and find a rider for us, you may tell them Bel Corinas said you’re to have the same again.’
‘Oh, no need to pay us, sir,’ said the woman. ‘We couldn’t just leave your friend lying there.’
‘Aye,’ said the man. ‘And we’ll go and find a rider for you right away.’
‘No, do take it,’ said Bel, grasping the man’s hand and pressing the coin into it. ‘It isn’t payment – it’s thanks. Anyway, the Throne has plenty more.’ He winked at the couple, who smiled. ‘Please tell the rider we’ll need a cart.’
The couple departed. Bel kneeled and took the pendant from around the thief’s neck. He tossed it to Hiza.
‘Pretty,’ said Hiza, turning it in his hands.
‘Not worth the trouble,’ said Bel. ‘Probably dyed glass.’ Reaching down, he ripped cloth from the thief’s shirt.
‘Whatcha doin’ now?’ whined the thief.
‘Trying to stop you bleeding, rat,’ said Bel. ‘Though Arkus knows why I’d be bothered.’
He wrapped the strip of cloth around the wound and pulled the knot tight. Again the thief cried out in pain, sickening Bel with how weak he was.
‘Steady there,’ said Hiza.
The fire faded from Bel’s eyes and he shrugged. ‘It has to be tight,’ he said. ‘To stop the flow.’
Bel sat alone in the Wayward Dog, staring into his mug. Normally he’d be having a drink with Hiza at the end of their shift, but Hiza would be in the Hospital of Arkus by now. At least that meant he had a friend in the Halls again. When he’d been assigned to Kadass, Hiza had moved his lodgings into the city. Bel, however, found himself ordered to remain in the barracks, where he was safer. He missed his old friends. There was still Hiza, but the rest of the gang had gone. The ring had left the ring leader and the Halls were much duller for it.
Sometimes he joined Corlas in teaching the younger students, where his sense of fun and fairness made him a popular addition to the class. The fairness came because he was conscious of the difference between him and his peers. Often he deliberately reined in his skill, having learned that no one liked to be outshone all the time. He knew he could beat them all anyway. Despite such distractions, he was beginning to feel trapped behind the ward stones, and had told Corlas as much. Corlas had said he understood better than Bel would ever know – whatever that meant – but he hadn’t done anything about it.
There was a lot getting on his nerves of late. Sometimes he’d be walking along merrily then stop suddenly, feeling at a total loss for no discernible reason. Sometimes he heard echoes of strange thoughts or foreign emotions he could not quite grasp. They slipped away and he was left feeling disturbed, discordant. Often he thought about what he was destined to do, one day – but which day? When? Was he meant to sit around waiting until some event precipitated his greatness, or was he meant to go out and make it happen? No one had a good answer for him. They all told him to live his life, to try not to let it bother him – and yet they wouldn’t even let him leave the Halls at an age when many young people went off to explore the world. He wondered vaguely about how his other self was faring, that dark slime that had dripped out of him all those years ago.
‘Those muscles not strong enough to hold up the ends of your mouth, keeper?’ came a woman’s voice. ‘You’re staring at that beer as if it murdered your family.’
‘Hmm?’ he said, glancing up. And then both he and a strange girl he’d never seen before stared at each other in great surprise.
She wore a light green cloak with the hood back and dark green vestments underneath. Her nose was pointy and studded by a tiny emerald. Her forehead was high and proud, framed by red ringlets that escaped being pushed behind her mischievous little ears. She was a beautiful girl, but that wasn’t why Bel stared; it was her eyes. They were green shot through with flecks of gold.
‘Sprite …’ he said.
‘And you,’ she replied.
Bel had to control an instinct to reach out and touch her, as if that would somehow prove she actually was a Sprite. He held out his hand, but forced himself to turn it into a gesture offering her the seat opposite. She sat, still staring.
‘Did you …er …’ Bel fumbled. Normally he was good at talking to women. He’d had practice: his mystical eyes and uniform had made sure of that. This time, for some reason, he felt odd and awkward.
‘I was actually just coming over to tease you because you’re a keeper,’ she said suddenly, then seemed surprised at her words.
‘Flattering,’ he replied, though he didn’t manage to inject any sarcasm.
‘And also you looked so glum. But I didn’t realise you were …I mean, I’ve never met anyone else who had Sprite in them. Oh, I’ve seen those poor children they cart around in the circus, but half the time they’re the ringmaster’s hatchlings with ears stuck on.’