Allika was a good pickpocket, but her primary coin was information. She was quiet, but she had sharp ears and eyes, and more often than not gleaned something by quietly slipping around the docks. So now, though she was warm and drowsy and her belly was stretched tight with good food for the first time in days, she forced herself to stay alert.
Her diligence was rewarded. A ship came into her view, and the moon was bright enough for her to determine that it flew the flag of the lion of Mhar.
As always, for an instant, the thought of the neighboring country hurt the girl. She had come from Mhar, and not so long ago, either; come to Braedon on just such a ship. The Death Ship, it would later be called. Allika's family-her parents and her two younger brothers-had decided to travel to Byrn. Allika's father was a strong man and hoped to find better employment as a soldier; Byrn needed men to fight the Ghil to the north. But there had come with Allika's family others, not so strong. The memory of one man, pale and sickly, stuck in the girl's mind.
Disease had broken out on the ship and spread like wildfire. Those afflicted had run high fevers and had terrible visions. Allika knew she would never forget the name: cloud sickness, so dubbed for the "clouding" of the mind. They had been forbidden to enter the port, lest the disease spread to Braedon.
For days the ship had sat in the waters, forbidden to dock, forbidden to leave. The food had run out. Allika had watched as, one by one, the dreadful illness had claimed all the members of her family. Her only solace was Miss Lally, who never got sick.
When the Byrnians finally came, it was not to find and help the survivors. It was to torch the ship and its victims- both living and dead. A terrified Allika, who had somehow been spared the ravages of the disease, had jumped overboard and swum to safety. Huddled on the sand, clutching her doll, she watched that night as the ship burned, lighting up the ocean with a dreadful crimson and golden glow. She had been the only survivor of the Death Ship, and as the long days turned into months and then years, became convinced that she was somehow "cursed." It was why she refused to live with any of the kinder-hearted thieves. She did not want ever again to bring sickness and death upon the heads of those whom she cared for ever again. Every time she saw a ship, for an instant, Allika saw not the true ship, but a burning ghost-ship as it sank slowly to the ocean depths; and she was reminded of how alone she and Miss Lally were-how alone they would always remain.
The ship from Mhar did not sail steadily up to the port, as was customary. This pricked Allika's curiosity. She crawled out from underneath her shelter, straightened, brushed sand from her buttocks and legs, and proceeded to make her way toward the port. She kept an eye on the ship as she walked through the soft sand, expertly sidestepping buried rocks, wood, and the occasional dead thing washed up from the depths.
"What do you think they're doing, Miss Lally?" she whispered to the doll. She held Miss Lally close, then placed the doll's mouth to her ear to hear the rag doll's "reply."
"Hmm, I don't know. But I bet we'll find out!"
She giggled a little to herself, then quieted as she drew closer to the pier and people. This late at night, no one noticed a small, silent shadow slip beneath the wooden pier.
Allika plopped down, sat Miss Lally in her lap, and waited with a patience that was almost unnatural in a child her age. But she had had to learn it, as she had had to learn many things over the last two and a half years, in order to survive.
After a time, another, softer sound was heard over the lull of the ocean. It was a rhythmic splashing noise, and Allika now saw that the big ship had dispatched a dinghy. It came closer, and the little girl could see that there were two men and some kind of crate in the smaller boat. At the same moment, she heard feet walking just above her. Sand, stirred up by the booted feet of the people above, sifted down to land in her short black hair. Silently, she tried to brush it out with one hand, listening intently.
"It's about damn time." The harsh, booming voice, loud even when its owner was trying to be quiet, was familiar to Allika. It was Wolf.
"Quiet," hissed another voice. That was Raven. Clearly, they were here to meet the little boat. Who was in it? What were they there for? Her curiosity now well and truly aroused, Allika got to her feet. Dragging Miss Lally behind her, she moved cautiously to the edge of the pier. If she moved just so, she could see up, catch a glimpse of her two fellow thieves.
The splashing was closer now. Allika strained to see who was in the boat, but the man saved her the effort.
"It's as I promised," came Hound's voice. Allika narrowed her eyes. What was Hound doing in a ship from Mhar? "A sign of good faith. Here-help me get it up onto the pier. And by all the gods, be careful. We don't want to drop it!"
There was much grunting and splashing as a box was heaved up from the boat onto the dock. Allika peered up, trying to catch a glimpse through the cracks in the boards. She stifled a grunt of pain as sand showered on her face, getting into her eyes. She knuckled the grit out of her watering eyes, listening hard.
Something made angry, chittering noises. Allika's curiosity grew. Some kind of animal? What in Verold was going on up there? The little girl followed the scraping and scratching sounds of the box being dragged the length of the pier. There was no more talking. Then, with a grunt, Wolf and Hound hoisted the box and moved onto the main streets. Allika scrambled out from under the pier, losing her footing in the soft sand.
Keeping them in sight, she followed, a silent little shadow. The thieves were silent, wary. Hound and Raven kept glancing about furtively. Allika shrank back from the look on Raven's face, caught for a moment in the silvery moonlight. Something was happening to Raven. Allika had never liked her much to begin with, but now that dislike was growing, backed by a fear of something the child couldn't articulate. She licked dry lips, tasting sand, and knew that if Raven caught her spying on them like this, something very, very bad would happen to her.
Fortunately, now that they were entering the winding streets, there were more shadows in which the child could hide. She was able to move closer, get a good look at the crate, memorizing every feature. It seemed to be simple enough-a large wooden box. If it housed an animal, it would have to be something the size of a small dog. But why would Raven want to steal an animal?
For an instant, Allika's childish imagination concocted something exotic, like a baby mountain cat, or a fabulous creature out of legend. Perhaps this was the king's special pet, stolen in order to exact a bribe. And then another thought struck her, sobering her at once: The cries and noises could have issued from the throat of a kidnapped child-a child just like her.
Unconsciously Allika folded Miss Lally just a little bit tighter in her embrace.
The three thieves stopped over a sewer grate. Wolf and Hound carefully set down the box, handling it as if it contained something fragile and valuable. Then the two men set to work heaving aside the grate, while a clearly nervous Raven kept watch. Allika pressed her back against the stone wall of a building, hardly daring to breathe.
"This whole damn thing doesn't sit well with me," grumbled Wolf as he rose, panting. "It doesn't have to," snapped Raven icily. "I am the Chosen. You serve me, Freylis, not the other way around."
Wolf growled. "Without your mad priest to protect you, bitch — " He moved forward menacingly. Allika whimpered, softly, her eyes going big with terror. She tried to make herself invisible, but could not tear her gaze from the scene.