Lucius quickly looked at the other patrons of the stall then, seeing them take not the slightest notice of him, said quietly, "I am looking for Ambrose."
The trader immediately lost interest in him, quickly jerking his head toward the man whittling wood before turning back to more likely prospects. Lucius took the sign and placed the ship back on the stall.
"You Ambrose?" he asked, standing over the man as he worked. The man did not bother to look up from the carving he drew a knife over, and Lucius saw it was actually some fantastic creature that stood on two legs, with fierce gouging fangs. The man himself was middle-aged, thin, and dressed in a cheap black tunic.
"Depends," the man answered lazily. "You after a commission? Come back next week, I've got enough for now."
"I'm after work."
"Any good with wood?"
Lucius frowned, not certain he had approached this conversation properly. "I don't think that is the kind of work intended."
The man looked up at him curiously. "Who sent you?"
"Some beggar," Lucius said lamely with a shrug.
"You pay him for my name?"
"I did."
"Good. You looking to work inside the law?" Ambrose asked.
Lucius smiled at that. "I have a feeling that if that was what I was after, I wouldn't be talking to you. No, I have no great desire to work purely within the law of Vos."
"Willing to take risks?"
"Of course. So long as the reward matches them."
Ambrose put his wood carving on the ground and stood, looking Lucius up and down as if weighing his worth.
"You look fit. Can you run?"
"Faster than you would think."
"And fight?"
"If I have to. Haven't been beaten yet."
Ambrose shook his head. "Everyone gets a beating once in a while. The sooner you learn that, the better." He paused for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind. "You'll start at the bottom — means you'll be working with the kids, but do well and we'll see what else you are capable of."
"What's the work? And where?"
"Right here," Ambrose said, sweeping a hand across the market. "I'll put you on a team, you'll work the crowd. Earnings get pooled and split, with the guild taking its forty per cent. Listen to the kids in your team, they know more than you do. And stay away from the stalls, we don't rob them — we have too many friends among the traders, and we don't want you pissing them off."
Lucius frowned. "You want me to work as… a pickpocket. That it?"
Ambrose cocked an eyebrow. "Too good for that line of work, are you? Let me tell you, I — and every thief I know, for that matter — started off on one of these teams. And I never regretted a minute of it. Learn the trade, and then we'll see what else you are capable of. If you are as good as you seem to think you are we'll find the right place for you."
"I was hoping for some real money," Lucius said, a little disenchanted as he saw his future boiling away to nothing more than petty crime and humiliating spells in the stocks. If, indeed, the Vos guard bothered with anything as trivial as stocks for captured thieves. He was surprised to see Ambrose smiling at him.
"I tell you what," said Ambrose. "You give me a week on a team. If you don't like it, if you decide it is not for you, if it is not bringing in the sort of money you are after, then we'll call it quits. You can just walk away, no harm done."
Ambrose sat back down and picked up his carving again. "But I have a feeling that once you see what a noble and skilled profession you have joined, you'll be less than ready to give it up."
CHAPTER 3
The Five Markets had changed, at least for Lucius. No longer were they thronged with crowds wandering aimlessly between traders while trying to save a few coins on their latest purchase, nor was a chance opportunity floating elusively away from him. Instead, this place of commerce had become his hunting ground.
Ambrose had assigned him to a pickpocket team that same afternoon, and his new comrades were Markel and Treal, twin brother and sister no more than twelve or thirteen years old. The previous member of their team, a lad named Harker, Lucius learned, had been promoted to work within the guildhouse of the Night Hands, the title given to this band of thieves. Lucius was taking his place, but neither Markel nor Treal made any comment about his advanced years, even though pick-pocketing was a child's game.
Their acceptance of an adult as an equal, if anything, made Lucius even more self-conscious of what he was doing, and more than once he wondered how much further he could possibly fall. Still, Ambrose had promised that he would not regret the money that would soon be flowing through his hands.
The veteran thief kept a close eye on Lucius' team, and several others, directing them to different areas within the Five Markets, rotating each so suspicious guards would inevitably lose track of the children they had started to watch. The proceeds of their work were transferred to Ambrose regularly, and he quickly sorted the guild's percentage and scribbled down what was owed to each team in his own code, to be returned to each member by the end of the day. It was a well-practised system, with more valuable goods, such as jewels and cut stones, quickly fenced through the Night Hands' own network of dealers and traders, to be returned as hard currency at the day's final accounting.
Lucius' first day was humiliating for him, taking instructions from two children barely old enough to piss in a pot, while his own efforts at grabbing purses and pouches without notice were more often than not dismal failures, forcing him to beat a hasty retreat before his mark realised just what he had intended. By the end of the second day, Lucius was about ready to walk away from the deal and take his chances running cards in taverns. What stopped him was partially the realisation that he was getting better in his role, but mostly because Ambrose made good on his promise of real money. Lucius had not been bothering to keep track of the pockets he, Markel and Treal had picked during the day as he descended ever further into depression, and he actually took a step back in surprise when Ambrose read them their total day's takings as the sun fell beneath the rooftops of the city and the Five Markets began to clear of custom.
His share amounted to twelve full silvers, plus a little change, which he gratefully took from Ambrose and swept into his own pouch.
"You see, lad?" Ambrose had said. "I told you there was good money in this."
Treal had told him that skilled teams that had worked together for many months could easily triple or quadruple this on a good day, and he slowly came to believe this was more than just an idle boast. While it was true that he could earn more than this in a single evening's gambling, particularly when he brought his magic to bear, this work carried far less risk of discovery. It was easy, and despite their tender young years, Markel and Treal were solid partners with honed tactics that had been passed down to them from thieves with years of experience.
A pick pocketing team always consisted of three. During his work in the Five Markets, Treal pointed out the 'independents,' as she called them, desperate men who worked alone. Watching them ply the crowd, Lucius saw the flaws in their plan. With no backup or support, they risked their lives and liberty with every mark they robbed. One bad move, one moment of inattention inevitably led to a cry of "thief" being raised, and then it was only a matter of time. The guard would be on the scene in seconds, and there were many in the crowd willing to play hero and delay the thief's escape long enough for him to be collared by a mailed hand. True, the independents shared their ill-gotten gains with no one else, but they would always, always, be caught in the end.