“Who’re you with?” he asked, looking away.
“No one.”
“You used an old sign.”
“Haven’t been about for a while.”
He paused. “What you want?”
“Heard the guards talking,” she told him. “Plan to catch someone.”
The watcher made a rude noise. “And why should I believe you?”
“I used to know Harrin,” she replied, straightening.
The boy considered her for a moment, then stepped out of the alcove and grabbed her arm. “Let’s see if he remembers you, then.”
Sonea’s heart skipped as he began to pull her into the crowd. The mud was slippery, and she knew she would end up sprawling in it if she tried to brace her feet. She muttered a curse.
“You don’t have to take me to him,” she said. “Just tell him my name. He’ll know I wouldn’t mess him about.”
The boy ignored her. Guards eyed them suspiciously as they passed. Sonea twisted her arm, but the boy’s grip was strong. He pulled her into a side street.
“Listen to me,” she said. “My name is Sonea. He knows me. So does Cery.”
“Then you won’t mind seeing him again,” the boy tossed over his shoulder.
The side street was crowded, and the people seemed to be in a hurry. She grabbed a lamppost and pulled him to a halt.
“I can’t go with you. I have to meet my aunt. Let me go—”
The press of people ended as the crowd passed and continued down the street. Sonea looked up and groaned.
“Jonna’s going to kill me.”
A line of guards stretched across the street, shields held high. Several youths paced before them, shouting insults and jibes. As Sonea watched, one threw a small object at the guards. The missile struck a shield and exploded into a cloud of red dust. A cheer erupted from the youths as the guards backed away a few steps.
Several paces back from the youths stood two familiar figures. One was taller and bulkier than she remembered, standing with his hands on his hips. Two years of growth had erased Harrin’s boyish looks but from his stance, she guessed that little else had changed. He had always been the undisputed leader of the gang, quick to smarten up anyone with a well-placed fist.
Beside him was a youth almost half his size. Sonea could not help smiling. Cery had not grown at all since she had last seen him, and she knew how much that would annoy him. Despite his small stature, Cery had always been respected in the gang because his father had worked for the Thieves.
As the watcher pulled her closer, she saw Cery lick a finger and hold it high, then nod. Harrin gave a shout. The youths pulled small bundles from their clothes and hurled them at the guards. A cloud of red billowed from the shields, and Sonea grinned as the men began to curse and cry out in pain.
Then, from an alley behind the guards, a lone figure stepped into the street. Sonea looked up and her blood froze.
“Magician!” she gasped.
The boy at her side drew in a sharp breath as he too saw the robed figure. “Hai! Magician!” he shouted. The youths and guards straightened and turned toward the newcomer.
Then all staggered back as a hot gust of wind battered them. An unpleasant smell filled Sonea’s nostrils, and her eyes began to sting as the red dust was blown into her face. The wind ceased abruptly, and all was silent and still.
Rubbing tears away, Sonea blinked at the ground, hoping for some clean snow to ease the sting. Only mud surrounded her, smooth and unbroken by footprints. But that couldn’t be right. As her vision cleared, she saw it was marked with fine ripples—all radiating out from the magician’s feet.
“Go!” Harrin bellowed. At once the youths sprang away from the guards and fled past Sonea. With a yelp, the watcher pulled her around and dragged her after them.
Her mouth went dry as she saw that another line of guards waited at the end of the street. This was the trap! And I’ve gone and got myself caught with them!
The watcher pulled her along, following Harrin’s gang as the youths raced toward the guards. As they drew close, the guards lifted their shields in anticipation. A few strides from the line, the youths veered into an alleyway. Following on their heels, Sonea noted a pair of uniformed men lying slumped against a wall by the entrance.
“Duck!” a familiar voice shouted.
A hand grabbed her and pulled her down. She winced as her knees struck the cobblestones under the mud. Hearing cries behind her, she looked back to see a mass of arms and shields filling the narrow gap between the buildings, a cloud of red dust billowing around them.
“Sonea?”
The voice was familiar and full of amazement. She looked up, and grinned as she saw Cery crouching beside her.
“She told me the guards were planning an ambush,” the watcher told him.
Cery nodded. “We knew.” A smile spread slowly across his face, then his eyes flickered past her to the guards, and the smile vanished. “Come on, everyone. Time to go!”
He took her hand, pulled her to her feet and led her between the youths bombarding the guards. As they did, a flash of light filled the alley with a blinding whiteness.
“What was that?” Sonea gasped, trying to brink away the image of the narrow street which seemed to hang before her eyes.
“The magician,” Cery hissed.
“Run!” Harrin bellowed nearby. Half blind, Sonea stumbled forward. A body slammed into her back and she fell. Cery grasped her arms, pulled her to her feet, and guided her onward.
They leapt out of the alley and Sonea found herself back on the main street. The youths slowed, lifting hoods and hunching their backs as they spread amongst the crowd. Sonea followed suit, and for several minutes she and Cery walked in silence. A tall figure moved to Cery’s side and peered around the edge of his hood to regard her.
“Hai! Look who it is!” Harrin’s eyes widened. “Sonea! What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “Getting caught in your mischief again, Harrin.”
“She heard the guards were planning an ambush and came looking for us,” Cery explained.
Harrin waved a hand dismissively. “We knew they’d try something, so we made sure we had a way out.”
Thinking of the guards slumped in the alley entrance, Sonea nodded. “I should’ve guessed you knew.”
“So where have you been? It’s been ... years.”
“Two years. We’ve been living in the North Quarter. Uncle Ranel got a room in a stayhouse.”
“I hear the rent stinks in those stayhouses—and everything costs double just ’cause you’re living inside the city walls.”
“It does, but we got by.”
“Doing what?” Cery asked.
“Mending shoes and clothes.”
Harrin nodded. “So that’s why we haven’t seen you for so long.”
Sonea smiled. That, and Jonna wanted to keep me from getting mixed up with your gang. Her aunt had not approved of Harrin and his friends. Not at all...
“Don’t sound too exciting,” Cery muttered.
Looking at him, she noted that, though he hadn’t grown much in the last few years, his face was no longer boyish. He wore a new longcoat with threads dangling where it had been cut short, and probably loaded with a collection of picks, knives, trinkets and sweets hidden in pockets and pouches within the lining. She had always wondered what Cery would do when he grew out of picking pockets and locks.
“It was safer than hanging about with you lot,” she told him.
Cery’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Jonna talking.”
Once, that would have stung. She smiled. “Jonna’s talking got us out of the slums.”
“So,” Harrin interrupted. “If you’ve got a room in a stay-house, why are you here?”
Sonea scowled and her mood darkened. “The King’s putting out the people in stayhouses,” she told him. “Says he don’t want so many people living in one building—that it’s not clean. Guards came and kicked us out this morning.”