The Valley of Ten Crescents Collection: The Valley of Ten Crescents

By Tristan J. Tarwater

HEROES ARE BORN. THIEVES ARE TRAINED. SHE'S NO HERO.
This omnibus edition includes the first THREE books in the Valley of Ten Crescents series, plus the short story prequel.

Tavera doesn't fight dragons. She won't save the world. She'll likely steal your drink. How does an orphaned half-elf grow up to become a master thief and what kind of life is that for a child?

Book 0: Little Girl Lost
Tavera is a child passed from hand to hand as a source of cheap labor in the underworld of the Valley. When she finds herself at the mercy of the vicious sausage maker, the elderly Madame Greswin, she discovers secrets from the woman's past and the consequences leave Tavera fighting for her life.

Book 1: Thieves at Heart
As an orphaned half-elf in a city of humans Tavera lives in a world where she doesn't belong - until a cunning thief named Derk catches her trying to steal from him and takes her on as his apprentice. Thievery comes easy to Tavera but Derk soon becomes more than a mentor - he is the first family she's ever known - and the lessons of a father are much more difficult to learn.

When Tavera discovers that Derk belongs to a secret society of elite thieves she is determined to join their ranks, but first she must prove her skills and gain their trust, and not everyone is ready to accept the young outsider. Can the group of thieves be trusted, what kind of life awaits, and what is the true cost of being one of the thieves at heart?

Book 2: Self-Made Scoundrel
Dershik Cartaskin's life is one of power, wealth, privilege... and lies. Son to an ambitious father, husband to a wife he cannot love, and father to a child who is not his own, Dershik has everything, and yet nothing to call his own. When the price of power and the weight of lies grow too great for him to bear, Dershik decides to leave everything he's ever known behind, and makes a deadly choice that will irrevocably alter his future.

Rejecting his former life, Dershik takes on a new name and a new identity, and sets out to forge his legacy as Derk -- member of the band of thieves known as the Cup of Cream, and SELF-MADE SCOUNDREL.
But soon Derk finds that even a dishonest man can't hide from the truth...

Book 3: Red Moon Rising
The rise of a deadly cult threatens life in the Valley of Ten Crescents. Alone, betrayed, and on the run from the law, Tavera finds herself charged with rescuing Kella, a priestess with a powerful secret who has been kidnapped by the cult. Tavera finds she can no longer be a little girl lost, but must become a leader and a savior if she is to survive the RED MOON RISING.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Back That Elf Up
• Release date: Feb 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781540107893

Tristan J. Tarwater

Tristan J. Tarwater is a writer of novels, comics and RPG bits. Their titles include The Valley of Ten Crescents series, Hen & Chick: The Marauders’ Island, Shamsee and more. They have also freelanced for Onyx Path, Pelgrane Press and contributed comics to the Ignatz and Eisner award winning comics anthology, ‘ELEMENTS: Fire’ as well as LionForge’s ‘Puerto Rico Strong.’ An advocate for better representation in media, Tristan created the #LatinxsCreate hashtag in 2016, which features many amazing illustrators, writers and more. Born and raised in New York City, they now consider Portland, OR their home. They live there with their spouse, Small Boss, and two cats, all of whom are dope.

Book preview

Prequel

Little Girl Lost

Tavera gulped as the ancient crone limped toward her, her eyes two points of shining black in her wizened face. The old woman’s hunched back loomed over her head, the shape of her body suggesting some powerful creature had bent her in unnatural ways. The little girl felt her heart beating in her chest as the wrinkled creature approached, the odor of spices and old sweat wafting from her. Tavera’s dark eyes traveled over the old woman’s small frame as the crone licked over her dried, cracked lips with a pink tongue as if the girl was a morsel and not another child up on the Blocks.

I’m not scared, Tavera told herself, balling her fists behind her back. She mustered all the courage she could. If nobody picked her for winter work, she would be thrown out on the streets to fend for herself till planting time. Tradesmen came to pick up cheap labor for winter work. If she did a good job and didn’t cry, maybe the person would keep her on in the spring so she wouldn’t have to go back to the fields.

The ancient woman finally stood before her, still licking her lips. Her dark, sharp eyes darted over the girl’s tattered clothing and body. Amazingly, she waved her hand to signal an attendant with great vigor, her shawl billowing with the movement hinting at great strength inside the sinewy, twisted frame.

Yes...Madame Greswin? The tall sinewy attendant stood out with his albino coloring. His heavy lidded eyes gave absolutely nothing away; Tavera couldn’t read his expression. He held a formidable looking spear in his right hand, more for effect than use; the children up on the stage were usually too frightened or accustomed to The Blocks to try and get away. The old woman’s mouth curled into a grin, her teeth yellow and cracked with age. She cackled somewhat cheerily before turning her head sharply, setting them on the girl again.

So, you know who I am? she asked, narrowing her eyes so they were almost lost in the wrinkles of her face. Well, I imagine you know what I’m here for. How old is this one?

We’re guessing she’s around seven or eight, said the albino, looking over the wooden card Tavera wore around her neck. All of the information they had about her would be on the card but the woman apparently was illiterate or near-sighted. She reached out a bony finger and poked Tavera in the ribs. Tavera almost cried out; it felt like she was being stabbed with a knitting needle. But she held her tongue, and pressed her lips together hoping it would over soon.

Is she a good worker? What has she done in the past? The pale man with the spear leaned over, his face somber as always as he read over the card, not bothering to look as the sound of a child crying out pierced the air.

Gleaning on farms, mostly...coal sorting, fruit picking. Did a stint at a launder.

Ah, and her fingers...let me see them. To Tavera’s horror, the old woman’s hand darted out and grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling her forward and almost off the block as she brought the girl’s hand close to her eyes, looking over the digits. Very skinny, I see, she commented, squeezing one of the knuckles. The old woman licked her lips yet again, a bit of spittle landing onto Tavera’s hand. The girl half expected it to burn through her skin but found it to be inert. She wiped her hand on her dirty apron as soon as the woman let go of her.

Well, their kind do come on the lean side, said the albino, sounding unimpressed as he turned his reddish eyes to Tavera, his face void of expression. She’s part Forester, as it seems. Not sure how much.

Forester, eh? I haven’t seen an elf of any amount since I was a girl, by her bosom! Ah, well, I’ll soon mend her leanness, I will, the woman said with a cackle, reaching into the folds of her many shawls and pulling out a small pouch. The coins inside jingling merrily. How much for her?

For the winter, five white pieces, said the albino, looking over at her placard to make sure this was the case. Though I must say, you seem to go through servants rather quickly. He left the statement at that, not bothering to elaborate or question, much to Tavera’s hidden terror.

Well, I run a successful business and I can’t tolerate insolence or incompetence. They run away, the lazy beasts! She seems sure enough. The old woman counted out five coins. Tavera’s dark eyes grew wide at the sight of the money and the idea she was worth that much. She had gone for four fullies last time and that had been for two whole seasons. The albino pulled the placard off from around Tavera’s neck. His fingers were cold on her neck and he tossed the piece of wood into a pile with a few others, not bothering to help the girl down from the box.

She’s all yours, he said, not bothering to say goodbye to either the girl or the woman, instead turning his attention to another potential customer. This one a large, armored fellow with a booming voice. Tavera stepped off the box as daintily as she could, curtsying before the old woman named Madame Greswin.

Ah well, this is well and good, at least you’ve picked up manners somewhere. The woman hooked her bony arm through Tavera’s, pulling her through the loosely packed crowd of people and onto the chilly city street. I’m Madame, the old woman squawked. Madame Greswin walked as if her legs were not the same length and Tavera was having a difficult time keeping her feet. But you may call me Auntie Greswin if you like. I don’t have many rules. Do as you’re told and work hard and you’ll do well under my roof. I cannot tolerate lying, laziness, insolence or stealing. I am a well-respected member of this city and I won’t have you sullying my good name or business.

Tavera wasn’t sure if asking a question fell under the category of insolence, but her curiosity got the best of her and she managed to force her mouth to form a few words. But Ma’am, I mean, Auntie Greswin, if you don’t mind me asking...what exactly is your business?

You don’t know me? the woman asked, astonishment bringing her voice to a high shriek that made a few people turn. She cackled again, pulling Tavera closer to her. The reek of old sweat and spices tingled in the little girls nose as she cringed.

You’re in luck, little girl. I am Madame Greswin, the maker of the finest sausages in the city of Fenwick.

***

All winter, Tavera worked for Madame Greswin. She was expected to wake up before first light and open the back door to let the butcher’s apprentice in with the delivery of meat for the day. The packages were to be opened and sorted through: fat, meat, organs, bones. The meat and organs had to be separated by freshness, the best parts put in one wooden tub while the greener, nastier bits were stored in another. The bones were boiled down and the tripe rinsed in flat ale delivered by the brewer. Then Tavera cleaned the store front, work area and the small room where the old woman slept, a room whose only furniture was a bed, a table and a brazier. Tavera slept in the work area by the fireplace. She had to stoke the fire in the morning and tend to it in the evening.

Madame Greswin treated the half-elf girl fairly well. She gave her clear instructions and Tavera learned to ask for clarification if she didn’t understand what was being asked of her or risk being called lazy or insolent. The punishment was a lash with a long, thin cane the old woman always seemed to have within arm’s reach. The spices and combination of salts, vegetable juices and meats were a closely guarded secret, which was fine with the little girl. She was more interested in the end result than the making. The fire had to be hot enough but the water not too hot and there was a room where the woman cured long links of fat, greasy sausages.

The days alternated between making sausages and selling them. On the first day of rest, a man who Madame Greswin paid in sausages would set up a little booth, grilling the tasty links and selling them for a half-piece or a blueie. Even in the bitter cold the man showed up, warming his hands over the grill as he shivered on his little stool, waiting for the customers who were willing to brave the weather for a hot sausage.

On the second day of rest, Auntie went to temple. She fried a few sausages, leaving half a sausage and a piece of bread for Tavera before she went out for the day. Tavera was supposed to watch the home and hearth and most importantly, clean the machines the old woman used to grind the meat. Tavera was allowed to touch them only to clean them. The crone expected a perfect job. The little girl was required to leave all the parts out on the table so the old woman could inspect them. Auntie Greswin would run the pieces of metal under her large nose, smelling the precious pieces of metal and running her fingers over them to be sure they were free of grease. The cleaner the pieces, the less likely her fresh sausages were to turn. If the metal parts were not cleaned to her specifications, Tavera received a beating with the cane. After the beating was over, she was commanded to clean the parts again and go to bed. After a few weeks of this, Tavera learned how clean the machines had to be in order to make it to bed free of welts.

There were times when Tavera had to remind Madame Greswin who she was. The old woman would squint at her from time to time and call her by different names, Kera or Gema. Madame Greswin would complain about her joints and claimed she knew when it would snow by how they ached. Tavera wanted to say it sounded like nonsense to her. But no amount of complaints about pain ever stayed the old woman’s hand with the cane so Tavera held her tongue and her wonder when the cold snows came.

The winter was harsh and the snow piled up to where the crone thought it unsafe to send Tavera out of doors to shovel. They spent more time around one another, the beady eyes of Auntie more likely to find fault with Tavera’s doings the more time she spent indoors. After a particularly snowy set of days, Tavera wished she had never been taken in by the old crone. Everything she had done those few days had been wrong and with the snow piled high, she couldn’t escape the old, shuffling woman and the long, wooden cane she wielded with such skill.

When the woman drank, it could go well or poorly. Sometimes she sipped something Tavera wasn’t familiar with after going to temple. The alcohol dulled the old woman’s senses so she slept deeply enough to allow Tavera to poke around. One late afternoon as the woman lay asleep in her bed, Tavera summoned the nerve to creep upstairs and into the small, sparsely furnished room serving as the woman’s quarters. Further inspection revealed a crawlspace within the wall. The little girl was able to hold in her curiosity and bide her time till the next time the woman was out of the house, being sure to get all of her chores done before she clipped upstairs to the room.

In the crawlspace were several trunks marked with words she hadn’t the education to decipher. Inside were old but well-done drawings of a woman and a man, the man obviously older than the girl with the solemn face who stood by him. There were a few beautiful quilts and two old fashioned dresses. Best of all though were the half-dozen hair ribbons, some of them made from some kind of shiny material. Tavera held her fingers over the ribbons for a few brief seconds before snatching the two she thought were the nicest, quickly putting everything back where it went and running downstairs so she could hide them in her bedding.

After too many phases the snow let up to the point where it actually began to melt a little, the banks growing lower. The sun turned the white mountains into gray ponds and the water pooled wherever it could, filth and dirt lining the bottoms. Auntie Greswin went out of doors more, busying herself with charitable works whatever it was that kept the old woman engaged. Tavera was glad to have more time to herself and less contact with the wooden cane, occupying her free time with her ribbons.

Sometimes she would tie them around her head and walk around the small house, talking to the inanimate objects as if they were people and she was a genteel woman. Other times she would tie the ribbons into knots so they formed makeshift dolls, always careful to flatten them out best she could when she was done with them. And still there were days when she would find herself running up the stairs and throwing open one of the trunks, wondering who the people in the pictures were and what the symbols meant.

One day Tavera was doing just that when her ears perked up, hearing something downstairs. Could the woman be home already? Panic squeezed her heart as she quickly put everything away, cursing to herself as she pushed books, knick-knacks and drawings back where they belonged. Tavera closed the crawlspace door as quietly and quickly as she could before she ran down the stairs, hoping the woman wouldn’t beat her too violently for being upstairs. She threw open the door, stopping short as her dark eyes fell upon the scene.

In the back area where the sausages were made stood two men. One of them she recognized as the man who grilled the sausages, his eyes widening in alarm as they fell upon the little girl. Out of the storage area came another man, this one similar in coloring and build to the first but with darker hair. He held a few chains of sausages in his hand, looking to the griller before turning to the little girl, his face calm.

For a brief moment Tavera wondered what they were doing but a sinking dread in the pit of her stomach told her why they were there. Behind them the back door was wide open. She ran toward them hoping she could get back the things they were intending to steal. No, don’t! she screamed, the griller already out the door and gone before she made it to the back room.

Just as she reached the work table, the other man tipped the piece of furniture over, the sound of wood splintering and metal clanging ringing in her ears. Tavera just barely jumped out of the way as it came crashing down, shrieking at the sound and her narrow escape. Laying on the floor, she looked up just in time to see the second man run out through the back door. He didn’t bother shutting it behind him.

Tavera scrambled up and around the table, running just outside in time to see them bolting down the alley. Wait! she shouted, her voice shrill, fear propelling her scream down the snowy street. Please! Don’t! Come back! The men disappeared behind a building, not bothering to heed the trembling girl’s pleas.

Tavera ducked back into the house, slamming the door behind her and trying to lock it, the tears in her eyes making the latch difficult to work. She began sobbing as she realized it was broken, wiping at her streaming eyes with the backs of her dirty hands as she looked over the scene. One of the legs of the table had fallen off, the door to the storeroom wide open. Tavera walked over to close it, drawing her breath in horror as a realization prickled in her brain.

The machine. She had left all he parts out on the table for the woman to inspect them and the man had tipped over the table. If Tavera knew any prayers, she would have recited them as she dropped to her hands and knees, desperately searching for the pieces of metal which belonged to Auntie Greswin’s precious machines. Panic stricken eyes scanned the floor, finding a few but not all. Quickly, she popped up and grabbed the broom, sweeping maniacally in the hopes of knocking one of the missing pieces out of hiding. A few actually did roll out and she spread them all out in front of her, counting the pieces feverishly. Tavera cursed. They weren’t all there.

The sound of the front door opening flooded Tavera with fear. She felt as if she would vomit and it took every shred of her being to keep herself from passing out from fright. Instead she sat there on the floor, frozen.

Girl? The shuffling of Madame Greswin’s feet and the tap of her cane drew closer, her shadow reaching the back room before she did. The two beady eyes glinted in the firelight and set themselves on the shivering girl. The woman stopped short, her cane banging hard on the floor as her wet, shriveled mouth quivered on her face. A thin, high whistle came out of her mouth as she stared at the girl, her gnarled knuckled gripping the head of her cane. Where...where did you get that ribbon, girl?

The ribbon. She must have put it in her hair and forgotten to take it out. Just as Tavera gained her voice back, the woman’s eyes darted to the floor in front of her, falling on the metal pieces in the girl’s apron. Tavera felt the rage of the woman growing steadily and then the sharp, hot pain of being grabbed by the ear.

The woman’s fingers had an iron grip on the tender point and Tavera shrieked in pain, blocking the woman’s cane with her hands, the hard wooden shaft cracking against her wet hands. Auntie Greswin panted, her beady eyes glazed over with intense emotion. She dropped her cane to the floor, her free hand reaching into her apron pockets. The glint Tavera saw out of the corner of her eye elevated her terror to heights unknown and she fought against the old woman, shrieking and kicking, managing to drag the old woman to the floor with her. But the bony, stone like fingers still gripped her ear.

Evil little girl, the woman snarled, the glint still dancing somewhere out of Tavera’s direct line of sight. The suggestion of what was there was worse than actually seeing it. Stealing from me, breaking my machines! How dare you! I’ll not have such treachery under my roof. Evil little creatures must be PUNISHED! The glint shot closer and then the pain of her ear went from a throb to something sharp and raw.

Tavera was unable to keep back a beast-like shriek as the sensation seared into her brain. Something brushed against her fingers. She wrapped her small hands around it, striking around as hard as she could with it. It hit something both hard and soft. Tavera struck it again and again before the little girl realized nothing was holding her anymore. Tavera dropped whatever was in her hands and without thinking shot up off the floor, propelling herself out the back door and bolting down the alley in the opposite direction that the thieves had gone.

Her boots and thin dress were worthless in the winter air. The thin leather soles skipped rhythmically across the barely cobbled streets as the girl ran desperately, tears threatening again in her eyes. Oh goddess, why had this happened? Her ear still stung. Cold, icy air licked the edges of her small body, the activity and pitch of her anxiety keeping her going. If anyone noticed she was bleeding, no one said anything. If anyone was concerned as to why a small child might be running around in the dead of winter without a coat, no one stopped her. So she ran, the energy it took to keep back her tears and run becoming too much for her to bear. Tavera finally stopped, slumping down against a crate and giving herself over to her sobbing.

The cold snow started to bite through her skin, the air pressing in around her. Still she cried, her hands starting to clench with cold, her body shivering. Why had this happened? Why had the woman done that to her? Her hand trembled as it reached up to the side of her head, the numb skin of her ear not registering the pressure but she felt the damage.

The little girl sobbed again, seeing her hand was covered with a red smear of blood, dark crust speckling her hand. What was going to happen to her? She couldn’t go back to the sausage shop; even if Auntie would take her back, she was liable to beat her within an inch of her life, if not out of it. If the Nabs got her, she’d be put on the block with a bad mark on her record. Only the worst professions took children like that and most of those children didn’t come back for another cycle on The Blocks. They were usually too crippled by whatever work they had been doing to do anything else or just disappeared.

There was no safe place to go for her. Eventually, someone would notice her and take her to the Nabs. From the Nabs, it would be The Blocks and then it wouldn’t be much longer after that. Tavera sobbed, trembling so hard she almost toppled over onto the snow, dreading whatever was to come and take her away.

The sound of footsteps barely registered in her ears as she faded away. The alley was staring to swim before her senses and she felt herself being lifted up. Tavera thought she heard, red is my lucky color today. Before she could try to figure out what it meant, she passed out.

***

Tavera sniffled, shaking her head from side to side slightly as she came to, still under the impression ill fortune was all that was hers. As she moved her head, someone came toward her and sat next to her, laying a soft, warm hand on her forehead. It was one of the kindest ways anyone had ever touched her. Still she started to cry again, trying to bring her hands up to push them away. Something seemed to be sitting on her chest and legs, weighing her down and the girl began thrashing around, trying to push the weight off her. Pressure came down on her shoulders and there was a low shushing sound beside her, something quiet and soft. Tavera managed to open her eyes, as sleepy as she was, trying to focus them on the person who had their hands on her shoulders.

It was a woman with blond curls and light eyes, her cheeks very rosy and her nose covered in some kind of white dust. She was plump without being fat, her pale bosom pushed up and out by the woman’s belt she wore around her torso. The expression on her face was kind and as her eyes met Tavera’s, she lifted her hands off the little girl’s shoulders, releasing her.

The woman smiled, her face a mixture of anxiety and relief under the make up. You gave us quite a fright there, little one. Don’t worry, you’re safe with us. Tavera’s eyes darted around the room, first across her body and then around her, trying to take in everything at once. She was covered in thick, warm blankets; this was the pressure she felt over her body. The room was lit with two oil lamps and over against one of the walls was the biggest mirror the little girl had ever seen. The woman smelled good and was still looking at her kindly.

Where’s my clothes? Tavera asked. She realized that she was naked under all the quilts. The woman laughed, leaning closer to her and brushing a stray hair out of the girl’s face.

Don’t worry about those old things. I just had to get them off of you so we could look you over. ‘Sides, they were wet and we had to get you warmed up. The woman reached over to the side of the bed, where a bowl sat, steam still rising off the top. She dipped the spoon in a few times before blowing on whatever she pulled out, looking at the girl again. Kept the ribbons, though.

I don’t want them, Tavera mumbled, eyes filling with tears as she looked to the side. Those ribbons...they had been the first thing the old crone had noticed. She never wanted to see them again. Tavera sniffled, the aroma of whatever was in the bowl wafting up to her nose. The little girl shifted under the blankets, deciding this was the warmest she had been in a long time. She rather liked it. Her mouth was a distrustful pout as she tried to look into the bowl, the woman still holding the spoon. What’s that?

It’s soup, the woman said, putting the bowl under her chin and offering her the spoon. Ain’t you hungry? It’ll warm you up. Tavera looked down into the spoon, opening her mouth slightly so that the woman could feed her, swallowing the warm broth. It did warm her up and it tasted good. Why was this woman so kind to her? The woman smiled and fed her another spoon of soup, blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn the little girl’s tongue. It was all very surreal to Tavera but she wouldn’t object to being placed in warm blankets and fed hot soup. She would only hope that it didn’t come to an end too soon.

Prisca, Fior is here askin’ ‘bout taking us both for a go. What should I say? Oh, you’re awake! A thin, long haired girl popped into the doorway, her cheeks the same rosy hue as the buxom one. The girl smiled at Tavera, showing that one of molars was missing but she had a sweet smile. She sat down by the woman called Prisca on the bed, her brown eyes looking over Tavera. You gave us all a scare!’ she said, reiterating what the other had said. The skinny one placed her arms around Prisca’s middle and hugged her, sighing as she looked over the little girl. You was bleeding something fierce but Sera got you patched up. You poor little thing."

Tavera blushed at having someone pity her, swallowing the spoonful of soup the woman had fed her. She squirmed under the covers. Both the woman laughed out loud, Prisca’s laugh bordering on a high pitched cackle while the others was more sweet and melodic, the woman even putting a hand over her mouth.

It sure is quaint to see a body blush in this house, ain’t it Gia? Prisca set down the bowl and placed her hand on the girl’s forehead again, even bending over to kiss her on top of her head. When she did, her breasts smashed into Tavera’s face, almost suffocating her but the kiss was brief and the crisis avoided. Tavera snaked her arms out from under the blankets, letting them rest on top as she frowned, looking over the two woman that were looking over her hair ribbons and apparently trying to decide who should take which one. The little girl waited for a moment before she drew in a breath, touching her ear.

It was cut straight across, the slight point completely gone. It was still raw but someone had put something oily on it, the orange colored grease staining her fingers as she drew them away.

The woman named Prisca saw the little girl’s face and pity managed to force its way past rouge and powder. Tavera trembled as Prisca perched on the side of the bed. The woman’s warm hand brushed her knotty tresses out of her face and she tucked her hair behind her ears, careful not to touch the still fresh wound.

Don’t you worry ‘bout that, love, said Prisca. She laid a hand on the little girl’s face, staring into her eyes. The eye contact made Tavera feel slightly uncomfortable but the woman held her head, the other woman sighing faintly in the background. Prisca kissed her yet again on the forehead before releasing her, letting her fall back. You’re with us now and us brass take care of each other. Just get some rest. The woman put a hand on her forehead before she pulled herself away, the thin woman taking her hand before leading her out. Prisca shut the door behind her so Tavera was left in the room alone.

Tavera sniffled under the sheets, drawing them closer around herself as she rolled over. Brass. It could have been worse. Tavera saw them walking the streets, wearing bells at their breasts as advertisement for something Tavera didn’t quite understand. All that she knew was men were interested in it and brass sold it. They frequented the temples in the morning, peddling their invisible wares on the surrounding blocks. She figured in time she would find out what it was they were selling. For now, Tavera knew she was warm and extremely tired. Without giving heed to the bumps and noises of the house around her, the little girl closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Thieves at Heart

Book 1

Chapter 1

Out of the Dregs

Tavi, I really wish you weighed more, girl. You can never pull these things tight enough! Prisca the Tart stood up from the bed, examining the ties of the wide belt she wore under her bust in the full-length mirror. A look of disappointment came over the woman’s highly painted face as she looked over the leather cords crisscrossing her back, brown threaded through pale pink, matching the dress she was wearing. Her light eyes lit upon the tiny bit of the girl reflected in the mirror, a small brown hand crawling away once it was noticed. The woman sighed and laughed, brushing out her skirts as she walked back to the bed and sat in front of the little girl, the hay and feathers settling with a rustle under her weight. Come now, sweets, use those tiny fingers of yours and fix what you’ve done.

Yes, mam, came the quiet voice, the girl’s head bowed as she went to work. Skinny legs shifted under the girl’s small frame and she scratched at her greasy dark hair, what remained of her locks barely long enough to cover one slightly pointed ear. Her hand brushed against the other ear as her hands went to Prisca’s laces. Where there was supposed to be a point was instead a straight line, pink and tender where a knife had cut the cartilage away. It still sent a shiver through Tavi when she touched it. The loss of her hair meant she couldn’t hide the telltale signs of her blood or her past and her face grew hot even now, recalling Prisca’s announcement and remedy. Lice and a shave. Can’t have bugs hopping about when I’m on business, Prisca had said as she shaved off the girl’s knotty black locks. Dark eyes glanced toward the mirror and Tavi wondered if she could look at her own reflection without crying yet. The assurance that she wasn’t the only girl on the Row to have had her head shaved didn’t help. Slender, nimble fingers tugged at the cords, already warm from the woman’s body heat, and the little girl coughed slightly as she worked, pulling back on the ties as hard as she could.

You’re not coming down with something now, are you? Prisca asked, breathing in sharply as the little girl found a very loose spot and tugged hard. The minute you start feeling ill, you must let me know so I can get you something for it. Can’t have sickness about, you know.

Just clearing my throat, mam, Tavi said, untying the tie at the top and placing her tiny foot on the woman’s ample backside, leaning back with all of her weight and grunting as she did so, the woman holding onto the bed frame so hard her knuckles were white. The girl frowned with a mouth slightly too big for her face and she carefully tied a bow, making sure the cords were the same length at the ends. I still don’t understand why I have to do this if you’re to take it off anyway.

Oh, Tavi, dear. Satisfied with the tautness of the garment, the woman turned to look in the mirror again, tucking a blonde curl behind one ear while letting another fall across her face. You’re a bit young to understand, but I’ll teach you in time. I don’t know how you elfy ones grow, but I suspect sooner than later you’ll be ready to answer calls, with the priestess’ blessing. Prisca dipped a finger into a pot of ground clay and vegetable juice, running the digit over her eyelids. The faint smoky color made her blue eyes seem even bluer in the light of the lantern. Tavi watched with some interest as Prisca picked a heartberry out of a bowl of fruit sitting on her nightstand, rubbing it against her teeth and lips before she ate the berry whole. And, the woman added, holding the fruit out toward Tavi. The little girl pressed her lips together before her dark fingers darted out, picking out a tart greenberry, her face screwing up as its sourness danced across her tongue. Prisca laughed, a sound like a cackle and a chuckle all in one. You really must start eating more and eating the things I tell you. You’re far too thin! Can’t have men thinking they’ll snap you in two. Your red earth will never come if you don’t fill out, love.

A bell above the door chimed, the dented metal causing it to ring strangely. Prisca clapped her hands with glee, reaching over for a vial of scented oil she had been gifted recently. The fragrance was of something Tavi had smelled before but couldn’t place. Prisca said it was distilled moonflower and something the girl had never heard of that was supposed to ‘tighten mens’ trousers.’ The woman turned the bottle over on her finger and dabbed between her breasts before running the still-shining finger across her neck, the way someone might do to indicate they were going to slit someone’s throat. She then placed the bottle back on the nightstand, as it had been a gift from the person she was expecting. Prisca had told Tavi it was good to display gifts the customers had given when they visited. Excitement made the woman bounce up and down on the mattress, her hands clasped over her heart. This could be it! Prisca squeaked lustily, blushing through her makeup. I think it is. Make yourself scarce now and have at it; you know what to do. Before the Tart had finished giving her orders, the little girl had already ducked into the space between the walls as always, careful to place the upholstered chair close enough to the secret hiding place so she could reach it easily but still remain hidden as she went about her side of the business.

When she had originally started picking the pockets of customers for Prisca the Tart, the anticipation always filled her with fear and excitement. After a few months of sliding back the hidden panel and rummaging around for coins, charms or other things the men would never report stolen to the local browncloaks it had become mundane, almost easy. However, today was different. Tonight was the New Moon, and as Prisca the Tart had always done on the New Moon, she and Brass Sera and Kind Gia had gone down to the soothsayer to have their fortunes told. The soothsayer was a short, wizened woman, shrouded in a thick brown cloak. She sat on a street corner, offering fortunes for coin or food. All that was exposed of the woman was her deeply creased face and her curled, spotted hands, gnarled from the twisting sickness some old people got. It made Tavi’s skin crawl to look at them. The old woman scared Tavi and she had told Prisca as much but her mam had shaken her head and laughed in response. The old woman had turned the cards over for Prisca and informed her that from a secret place, a boon would be in her room before the moon set.

Tavi could make out her benefactor from behind the false wall, seeing her large bosom rise and fall with each breath. She couldn’t let her mam down. Her stomach fluttered as she considered what good fortune would come their way. What would the men have in their pockets? Maybe someone with a good deal of money would take Prisca ‘into his pocket’ and by association, Tavi would benefit as well. Her mouth felt dry and she licked her lips, waiting, her heart pounding as the sound of booted footsteps came closer.

The door opened and for a few breaths, no one walked in. Then Prisca clapped her hands joyfully and the man entered, closing the door behind him with a low thud, shaking the walls. Tavi narrowed her eyes as she looked through the peek-hole. She thought she recognized the boots and strained her ear to listen to what the grown-ups were saying.

Ah, Prisca...beautiful as always, came the deep voice, muffled slightly by distance and wood. His boots were well worn but had once been fine, a deep mahogany brown color offset with tarnished metal buckles. There was something funny about the heels of the boots and the sound they made whenever he walked in, but the girl could never quite place her finger on it. Prisca stood up from the bed, only to stop short, laughing raucously as the man rushed toward her and threw her down onto the already rumpled sheets and well-used mattress.

This was the part Tavi was interested in, though not for the reason most people would be. The little girl silently thanked the Goddess that the man had come to collect, and quickly. Sometimes Prisca and her clients would talk for a while, the Tart pouring them a glass of beer or allowing them to read things they had written for her. The more time they spent doing this the longer Tavi had to sit in the crawl space, waiting for an opportune time to get to work. On one occasion a fellow had talked to her mam for so long, Tavi’s legs had fallen asleep. Prisca had had to pry her out of the wall, laughing the whole time and apologizing while all Tavi could do was cry as the blood rushed back into her legs, drawing tears from her eyes and curses from her young mouth. But the man whose boots she liked and wondered at was making good and quick on his money. She held her breath and listened to be sure that they were fully occupied with one another, the bed creaking and rustling with their movement before the little girl slid back the tiny panel in the wall.

Tavi examined the jacket tossed carelessly onto the high-backed chair, the upholstery worn and faded after various types of use. The jacket was unremarkable. The pockets faced her, which would make her job even easier. Depending on whether the event was ‘quick and painless,’ as her mam told her most business transactions were, or ‘pleasure and leisure,’ Tavi would decide if she should check for inner pockets, where most of the better items were hidden.

Her hand was wrist deep in the left-hand pocket when she heard Prisca squeal and the man say something, the woman laughing in response. Tavi smiled to herself, a small, excited smile within the dark between the walls. A deeper inspection would be made.

The little girl took a deep breath before creeping her hand forward, sliding it over the fabric and through the folds, searching for an inner pocket. A lip of fabric brushed against her fingertips and she grinned, listening carefully before letting her fingers slip into the surprisingly silky, soft lining and into the hidden pocket. Tavi felt something cold and hard, her tongue slipping its way past her lips as she wondered what it could be, her fingers trailing over the length of the object...a dagger?

Before her question could be answered and before she even realized what was happening, there was a loud thump and the shock of her wrist being grabbed firmly by a strong hand. She squeaked and tried to pull her hand back, horrified to have her hand not move at all, and was then knocked unconscious when whoever was holding onto her pulled her with such force that she smashed her head into the wall and everything went black.

***

The sound of a match being struck and the smell of sulfur eased the girl’s senses into consciousness. She managed to keep her body still, trying to make sense of where she was in the dark. Her head still throbbed with a dull pain. She felt loose, scratchy straw under her bare legs and tickling her neck. The smell of wet stones was close. Her good ear perked up as she heard someone walking around. The darkness turned to shadows and oranges and the stink of sulfur made her wrinkle her nose. When the little girl finally summoned the energy to turn her head, she saw the man sitting on a chair in front of her. Tavi moved her hands, bound at the wrists, and looked to him, the candlelight dancing before her. Her mouth was dry and she felt like crying, but she swallowed and managed to speak, her voice sounding less brave than she had hoped it would.

Where...where am I? The question bounced around the room in a way that made her feel small. A drip of water splashed to the ground, sounding louder than her question, and she chewed her lip as she kept back her tears.

The man with the interesting boots chuckled, a low, melodic laugh suggesting that she had just told a joke. He leaned forward on his chair, pressing his fingertips together and looking directly at her. His slicked-back hair and scruffy face looked menacing in the dancing light. Deep blue eyes and angled features were familiar to her, roughened by the lack of a shave and fatigue showing in his face but not his eyes. This man had been coming to her mam all through the last three seasons and was a favorite of Prisca. He was able to conjure up whatever the girls needed and had even brought Tavi something when she had pressed Prisca to ask him for it. It had been a pretty pin she had seen in the market, the head a shiny blue-and-white bead.

On occasion the girl had noticed the man watching her, but Prisca had always guarded her from him, never letting Tavi keep him company if she wasn’t there and instructing her not to answer any questions he put to her. His name was Derk and Prisca said he was well known among certain circles, though ‘the Lurk’ disappeared when he needed to. He was here now. He brought the match to the pipe he held in his hands, pulling on it gently with a quiet breath. Tavi heard the tobacco crackling and the smoke tickled her nose when it reached her. He shook the match out before he flicked it to the floor. Even in the dark, his eyes were intense and he stared at her, pinning her down to the hay with his gaze. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled faintly, the smoke of the pipe drifting off to nowhere. Where do you think you are...Tavi, is it? Where do the dregs always wind up?

Tavi drew her breath in sharply, her eyes wide with fright. The Jugs? Panic set in and her chest heaved as she started hyperventilating, worry squeezing at her tiny heart and lungs. Prison. He had caught her stealing from him and turned her in. Stories about the horrors of prison made her head hurt more. Loneliness, hunger, pain, the dangers of other prisoners. But she was just a little girl, wasn’t she? Why would he turn her in? She hadn’t taken anything, not really. But here she was, surrounded by stone and nothing but hay beneath her and the table before her. In front of her was a man who had knocked her unconscious with a flick of his wrist. Tavi wanted to scream. Her face felt hot and her stomach felt sick and something dripped down her forehead that felt like sweat. Fear made her whole body quake, dislodging the panic rumbling in her belly. When her mouth opened to scream, a shock of cold water slapped her in the face, dripping over her and soaking into her worn clothing. It snapped her brain away from her terror and the man shook her gently, his laughter sounding more nervous than comic this time.

Come on now, I was only playing, he said, jostling the girl and smacking her lightly across the cheeks. Her mouth popped open like a fish as she gasped for air and cried, the remains of his bad joke drawing tears from her eyes. It was only a joke, he said. He tried to meet her gaze but she looked away, still trembling so hard her teeth chattered, tears running down her cheeks. A rough hand brushed a tear away. Hey, get a hold of yourself, he said, and it almost sounded gentle. You’re not in prison. Though you’ve a fear of the Jugs. Means you’ll do your best to stay out of ’em. Means you’ll do.

She was dropped back down onto the pile of hay, the man walking back to his chair to sit. Tavi took a moment to catch her breath, the shock of the horrible joke still causing her to shake. She felt so tired after being so afraid. Her head throbbed but her childish curiosity kept her from yielding to the weariness in her young body. Do what? she managed to say, and this time it almost sounded like a demand and not a cry for help, kneeling in the hay. What’ll I do? And what did you do with mam? Did you hurt her? For the first time she remembered Prisca and the shrill scream that was not her own before it had gone dark. If you hurt her—

So, you’ve a bit of fire in your belly, as I thought. The man laughed again, reaching into his pack and pulling out something round, the other hand pulling out a small knife, the blade glinting in the scant light. You’ll do for me what you were doing for her, though more of it, and better eventually. No hiding behind walls and such. As for that woman you call ‘mam,’ who ain’t your mother. He looked to her again, as if he was accusing her of something, but Tavi shook it off, pressing her lips together. Well, she’s safe and sound.

She’ll want me back, you know, she’ll come and get me, Tavi declared, her back as straight as she could hold it through her weariness, the ropes starting to dig into her wrists. Her head itched from the hay but she couldn’t scratch it. The adrenaline surge that had come with her panic now sought to serve her in her assertion and she stood on her knees as tall as she could. Y’can’t keep me here. I’m hers, fair and square, I’m her girl. You’ll have to take me back.

Except that she gave you up, dear...Tavera. Tavera is your full name, right? He cocked his head to the side, the light making the angles of his face sharper, more angular, and she would have cowered if she wasn’t trying to be brave at the moment. Derk let the round object in his hand into the light to reveal an apple, red and green on the outside with a leaf still attached to the stem. He cut a segment out of the fruit, bringing the white crescent to his mouth, and took a bite of it, his face pensive as he quietly chewed. The smell of the apple mixed with the tobacco made her stomach rumble. He must have heard because he looked toward her. She won’t be looking for you, at least I don’t suppose she shall. Seeing as how she gave you up to save her business.

What? Tavi felt as if her joints had gone cold and then melted, though her face was hot with shame and anger. Her head fell toward the hay to hide her face and she hoped it was too dark for him to see. It...it ain’t true, what you say... she spoke down, into the hay. She wouldn’t do that. She...mam....

She loved you? Derk made a sound and Tavera cringed. I’ve been on the streets longer than you’ve been alive, little one, and I can assure you, no mam ever raised up her girl to lift her skirts for blueies and bits of ribbon. But I’m guessing you know nothing of proper mothers or fathers. He cut off another piece of the apple and ate it rather slowly, seeming to enjoy the piece of fruit. Then Derk stood up, walking slowly toward Tavi. His figure loomed in the balance between the light from the candle and the darkness of the room.

But you’ve no need to worry, little Tavi. I’ve been watching you for quite some time and I know what you can do and I know what you’ll be able to do. He said it quietly. It made Tavera turn her head to look up at him. His eyes were big, as if he were excited. And, like a real father teaches his children, I intend to take it upon myself to teach you. No more picking pockets of poor saps and coming up with old scraps of fabric or rinds of cheese. No more stealing sausages off the spits and burning your fingers for what you foolishly deem a feast. I’ve a plan and an interest in you. And I can assure you, I won’t be giving you up to no one. You’re my girl, now, and I’m your pa.

He knelt down by the little girl, supporting her with one arm and bringing the apple up to her face. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing but he pushed the apple toward her mouth. She could smell how sweet it was and finally she bit down into it, half expecting him to pull it away but hoping he wouldn’t. He fed her the apple, not minding when the juice dripped onto his hand as she gobbled it down, the bit of food bracing her against her weariness. When the apple was done he threw the core away into a corner of the room and stood up, brushing his hands on his pants.

Now, there’s a party upstairs I am expected at and I don’t want you there. It ain’t for little girls. He wagged his finger at her as he said all this before he wiped his dagger on his pants, the blade disappearing within his clothes with a flick of his wrist. I’m keeping you tied up for now but I’ll be back soon. We’ll leave tomorrow at the beginning of the first watch. Try to get some rest. He bowed to her in a comical way but his jest didn’t make the little girl any less frightened. He chuckled when she didn’t and grabbed his pipe and hat off the table.

Wait! What if the candle goes out? Where’re we goin’ after this? Why are you doing this? She threw all these questions at him as she forced herself up again. Her heart thumped in her small chest and the corners of the room seemed somewhat darker and more menacing as the man made to leave. Derk reached up and grabbed hold of a rope that hung down from the ceiling and pulled down a set of stairs, the light from above ground seeming warm and inviting. He turned toward her, putting the hat on his head, and looked at her quizzically, a smirk on his mouth.

You’ll be asleep before the light goes out. As to where we’re going, I’ll know by the end of my party. And as to why...I don’t feel like explaining now. I don’t have to explain right now. But I swear by Her tits, it’s for your own good. He bowed again, more deeply than before, so deep his hat fell off. Derk smiled as he picked it up, smacking it against his leg before he set it back on his head. Then he walked briskly up the steps, his boots making the same strange sound they had before.

For her own good? She trembled slightly as she laid herself down on the hay, trying to get comfortable with her hands behind her back. What he had said frightened her and excited her. Her own good? What did that mean? What one person called ‘good’ sometimes meant a different thing altogether to another. Prisca had said cutting all her hair off was for ‘her own good.’ Tavera’s face grew hot again as she thought of Prisca. Hadn’t she promised the girl she would take care of her? The woman had shared her bed with her, kept her warm, keeping her safe from the men who had asked after her, promised to teach her what she would need to know to make a man or a woman happy. Tavi swallowed the lump in her throat, sniffing to keep new tears from falling across her face.

She’d been sold before, so why would a prostitute’s silly promises count for anything? Besides, Tavera told herself, her tongue darting out to lick up a salty tear, she didn’t want to be a prostitute anyway. The dressing up, the makeup, the bells, the peddling on the corners and steps of the temple...Tavera didn’t like any of it. She didn’t want to sell anything, let alone trade purses. She liked watching the people go by, trying to figure out where they were going, not trying to get them to come home with her. And though she did like taking from people and Prisca had encouraged it, Tavera felt like it was just another trick. Tavera was just another way for Prisca to get more out of her clients. When she had asked questions, Prisca had always laughed at her.

The little girl felt her weariness well up suddenly, the candlelight fading slowly as her eyes fluttered closed, her thoughts making a final circle as they started to fade into dreams. Maybe things with Derk would be different. He said he would be her pa. Would it be any different from Prisca wanting to be her mam? She wouldn’t know until he whisked her away from this life into the next and she remembered the way he had looked at her as he fed her the apple, the way he had bowed to her. Maybe he would love her and she would finally have just a bit of good in her life. Maybe he wouldn’t use her and laugh at her. All the times she had encountered him before he hadn’t seemed malicious or cruel. He smiled a lot and tried to help Prisca and the rest of the ladies. And he had gotten Tavi that pin. A smile curled the corners of her mouth as she settled into the hay. It didn’t seem nearly as scratchy as it had before, and before the candle had wobbled three times in front of her drooping eyes, Tavera was fast asleep.

Chapter 2

A Contract of Emotion

Shortly after they arrived in the city of Southwick, the lessons began. The lessons were varied and were meant to teach different things. One of the first things the Lurk taught her was self-defense.

Now I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that ladies and men have different parts to them, he said as he flicked the butt of his cigarette into the gutter, the acrid smell mixing with the stench of the open sewer. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he set his booted feet firmly on the cobbled street, sniffing as he did. Now this is where you’ve a bit of an advantage, Tavi, dear. If any man grabs you for any reason and you want him off quick, just hit him betwixt and off he goes. Don’t show any mercy or you’re more likely to piss the man off. Grab, kick, bite if you have to, but make it count and then run. If for some reason you can’t reach ’em or you’re up against a woman, a quick thump to the nose works as well. He lightly boxed her on the nose, tears welling up in her eyes, making the alley seem like a blur of browns and blacks for just a few breaths. But much harder, he said. Try to draw more than tears.

In Greyhollow they stayed in a room above a tavern. Tavi was given the bed with the warm blankets and if Derk ever minded sleeping in the chair by the door, he never complained. The stairs leading down to the tavern creaked no matter how lightly they stepped and the Lurk was always very kind to the tender he called Brags. Derk introduced Tavi to him as Kiffer. This had made the old man cleaning glasses with a dirty rag laugh and he offered her an apple from behind the bar every time he saw her. Tavi always took it and as Derk had instructed her, thanked him, trying her best to answer to the new name her father had bestowed upon her.

You must be careful not to shit where you eat, Tavi, he said one day as he was rolling a cigarette. He had acquired a lock from somewhere and Tavera was trying to pick it, inserting the pin he had bought her all those phases ago and a filed nail into the keyhole, fiddling them around, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she tried to feel with metal fingers. Derk licked the paper and gazed over to gauge her progress, reaching over to light the cigarette in the lantern as he finished his thought. Few people will truly deserve your kindness but if they do, give it to them. In the line of work we’re in, few trust us, though many more falsely say they do. When you move about a lot, a friendly face is worth more than a grip of blues. He took a pull of the smoke just as Tavera’s mouth and the lock popped open. Derk smiled at her while Tavera beamed, her small, skinny hands shaking with excitement. Very good, Tavi, he said.

It was