probably don’t know who
that is, but you’ll learn ’em all soon enough. Anyway, here’s our setup. Know
what invisible duck is?”
Quinton shook his head.
“Right. I approach somebody with my
bag and get the person’s attention. While they are lookin’ at me, you grab
whatever they have, then run like hell. Got it?”
Quinton nodded. “Run to where,
though?”
“Wherever they stop chasing you.
I’ll find you. I know these streets in this quarter really well. We need to get
away from Turnbull first, though, so we’ll move over a couple sections.”
Huck left the alley and walked
across the street past Lady Turnbull, with Quinton close behind.
“Boys,” she pleaded. “Leave behind
your life of street crime. Come to me and let me show you a better way of
life.”
“Sorry, m’lady,” said Huck. “Got
work to do. If I don’t fill up me bag, I’ll be in the river tonight.”
Her eyes moved to Quinton, who
didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were soft and green and they pleaded with
him. He just shrugged and kept following Huck.
“You’ll end up in the river
eventually if you keep doing what you’re doing,” she yelled after them. “If not
by your own people, then by someone who catches you.”
Huck ignored her and continued down
the street. “She means well,” he said to Quinton as they stopped two corners
down and started scanning the streets. “She just don’t understand what the Fly
Guild is. If we left to live with her, someone would slit our throats in the
night the first day we were there.” He looked over at Quinton, the smile gone
from his face. “And you can count on that. No one leaves the family. Ever.” He
stared at him for a minute then smiled. “Okay, I’m going to cross the street
and wait for a smack to come down, then … “
“What’s a smack?”
“A person we’re going to steal
from. Now listen, once I approach him, you have to sneak up from behind. When
he reaches for my bag, that’s when you run by and snag whatever the person is
carrying. And don’t forget to keep running.”
Before Quinton could say anything,
Huck bounded off across the street to stand near a building, slightly hidden in
the shadow of a recessed doorway. Several people walked by, but Huck let them
go. They either weren’t carrying anything, or looked too tough to deal with.
Quinton spotted a middle-aged man walking up the street with a small
oil-covered cloth covering a lump of something tucked under his arm. Quinton figured
it to be a loaf of bread and looked over at Huck, who nodded once in response.
Quinton’s heart started to race. He had been doing something similar the day
Sands caught him. His ribs ached in response to the memory.
The man passed by and Huck stepped out
from his hiding spot, bag in hand. He held the neck of the bag so that it
looked as though it had something in it and he feigned weight.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said, “would
you like to buy a freshly strangled duck? It’s a bit small, but it’s got plenty
of meat on it.” He held the bag up and waved it from side to side.
The man hesitated for a moment, and
Quinton used the time to close the distance between him and the man. Huck moved
the bag to his other hand and took half a step to the side opposite the bread
loaf so as to not be in the way.
“How much?” the man asked.
“Two silver,” said Huck.
“Two silver?” the man said
incredulously. “I haven’t even seen it, and you said yourself it was small.”
“All right then, take a look for
yourself.” Huck held out the bag to the man.
Quinton bolted. As the man reached
for the bag, Quinton punched at the package under the man’s arm, popping it
loose. In the same motion, he ran by and caught it, never missing a step.
Huck turned and started yelling,
“Thief! Someone stop that thief.”
The man yelled in protest and began
running after Quinton, his few remaining threads of grey hair flapping wildly
in the breeze. He took several steps
that is, but you’ll learn ’em all soon enough. Anyway, here’s our setup. Know
what invisible duck is?”
Quinton shook his head.
“Right. I approach somebody with my
bag and get the person’s attention. While they are lookin’ at me, you grab
whatever they have, then run like hell. Got it?”
Quinton nodded. “Run to where,
though?”
“Wherever they stop chasing you.
I’ll find you. I know these streets in this quarter really well. We need to get
away from Turnbull first, though, so we’ll move over a couple sections.”
Huck left the alley and walked
across the street past Lady Turnbull, with Quinton close behind.
“Boys,” she pleaded. “Leave behind
your life of street crime. Come to me and let me show you a better way of
life.”
“Sorry, m’lady,” said Huck. “Got
work to do. If I don’t fill up me bag, I’ll be in the river tonight.”
Her eyes moved to Quinton, who
didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were soft and green and they pleaded with
him. He just shrugged and kept following Huck.
“You’ll end up in the river
eventually if you keep doing what you’re doing,” she yelled after them. “If not
by your own people, then by someone who catches you.”
Huck ignored her and continued down
the street. “She means well,” he said to Quinton as they stopped two corners
down and started scanning the streets. “She just don’t understand what the Fly
Guild is. If we left to live with her, someone would slit our throats in the
night the first day we were there.” He looked over at Quinton, the smile gone
from his face. “And you can count on that. No one leaves the family. Ever.” He
stared at him for a minute then smiled. “Okay, I’m going to cross the street
and wait for a smack to come down, then … “
“What’s a smack?”
“A person we’re going to steal
from. Now listen, once I approach him, you have to sneak up from behind. When
he reaches for my bag, that’s when you run by and snag whatever the person is
carrying. And don’t forget to keep running.”
Before Quinton could say anything,
Huck bounded off across the street to stand near a building, slightly hidden in
the shadow of a recessed doorway. Several people walked by, but Huck let them
go. They either weren’t carrying anything, or looked too tough to deal with.
Quinton spotted a middle-aged man walking up the street with a small
oil-covered cloth covering a lump of something tucked under his arm. Quinton figured
it to be a loaf of bread and looked over at Huck, who nodded once in response.
Quinton’s heart started to race. He had been doing something similar the day
Sands caught him. His ribs ached in response to the memory.
The man passed by and Huck stepped out
from his hiding spot, bag in hand. He held the neck of the bag so that it
looked as though it had something in it and he feigned weight.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said, “would
you like to buy a freshly strangled duck? It’s a bit small, but it’s got plenty
of meat on it.” He held the bag up and waved it from side to side.
The man hesitated for a moment, and
Quinton used the time to close the distance between him and the man. Huck moved
the bag to his other hand and took half a step to the side opposite the bread
loaf so as to not be in the way.
“How much?” the man asked.
“Two silver,” said Huck.
“Two silver?” the man said
incredulously. “I haven’t even seen it, and you said yourself it was small.”
“All right then, take a look for
yourself.” Huck held out the bag to the man.
Quinton bolted. As the man reached
for the bag, Quinton punched at the package under the man’s arm, popping it
loose. In the same motion, he ran by and caught it, never missing a step.
Huck turned and started yelling,
“Thief! Someone stop that thief.”
The man yelled in protest and began
running after Quinton, his few remaining threads of grey hair flapping wildly
in the breeze. He took several steps
Similar Books
