"I guess I'm ready," she said softly. "What do you want me to do?"
Marcus smiled. "That's my girl," he said. He pointed out into the plaza, to the booth where he had purchased the bird for her to release.
"Do you remember that stand?" he asked her. "And the bird I bought for you?"
Biting her lip, she nodded.
"Very soon now, a man will lead a horse over next to it. He's big and fat, and has a white mustache. There will be several bags tied to the saddle. Once I think he is alone, I will walk out with the wheelbarrow, speak with him for a little bit, and then exchange the horse for the wheelbarrow. That will be all there is to it. But when I leave the plaza with the horse, you must do something for me. From where you will be standing, you must watch and see if anyone is following me. If you're sure they are, I want you to run to me straight away. I'll hoist you up on the horse, and we'll make a run for it. But if no one is behind me, then we'll meet later, in our usual spot. Do you understand?"
Rebecca nodded. Her foot ached, and she just wanted all of this to be over. "Where do you want me to stand?" she asked quietly.
"Do you remember the place I showed you earlier this morning? The one by the corner?"
"Yes."
"Stand there. From that spot you should be able to see everything."
Marcus glanced out into the plaza. Time was getting short, and if the artifacts dealer was truly coming, he would be here soon. Only within the last hour the scroll had glowed again, and Marcus found himself as anxious to be rid of it as 'Becca was.
Bending down a bit, Marcus took 'Becca by the shoulders and looked into her frightened brown eyes.
"You can do this for me, can't you, piglet?" he asked as he searched her face. "Your part is awfully important. I couldn't do it without you, you know."
Looking up at her brother, Rebecca did her best to smile.
Marcus looked nervously out into the plaza again. "I think you should go now," he said. "And try to remember everything I told you. Very soon this will all be over, and we'll be free."
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca stood away from the wall and limped out into the sunlight. After taking only a few steps, she turned and looked back at her brother for a moment. As she did, Marcus held his breath.
Then she turned back to the teeming plaza and kept on going. He watched the back of her tattered plaid dress for as long as he could, until it finally melted away into the crowd.
His breath coming quickly now, Marcus leaned against the wall, closed his eyes tight, and desperately hoped that he had just done the right thing. Turning back to the bird booth, he fingered the spring-loaded knife in his pocket and waited.
G rabbing Mr. Worth by his expensive, sweaty collar, Janus slammed him up against the nearest wall of the empty artifact shop. Worth shook with fear. Grizelda smiled.
Then the painted freak looked down at the three heavy canvas bags lying nearby on the otherwise barren floor.
"It's time," he whispered nastily. "Time for me to obtain what I came all this way for." As he smiled, his red mask crinkled up at the edges.
Reaching down to his belt, he removed the twin iron spheres and held them up before Worth's frightened eyes.
"I am deadly accurate with these," he hissed. "Emphasis on the word 'dead.' And my friend and I won't be far away. So don't get any bright ideas about double-crossing me, or your head will soon be lying all by itself on the bricks of the plaza." He smiled. "You could then be called one of the Fallen Heroes! How deliciously ironic! Do you understand my instructions, you fat bastard?"
Sweat running down his face, Worth nodded.
Janus let Worth go, and he and the shopkeeper wrestled the heavy moneybags outside and onto the waiting horse.
M arcus looked out from the darkness of the alleyway. Right on time, Worth was leading a bay mare over toward the bird booth. Three bulging bags were tied to the saddle.
Marcus forced himself to wait for a few moments before going out with the wheelbarrow. Let the artifacts dealer sweat a bit, he thought. Might make him easier to deal with, should he have suddenly acquired any new ideas.
Slowly, carefully, Marcus picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it out into the light.
As Marcus approached, the shopkeeper seemed almost overjoyed to see him. Marcus carefully put down the wheelbarrow and looked around. Then he trained his skeptical eyes on Worth. "Is it all there?" he asked simply.
"Uh, er, yes-yes, of course," Worth stammered, as if he didn't know what else to say. "All thirteen thousand."
Reluctantly leaving the scroll for a moment, Marcus walked over to the mare. Uncinching the first of the three bags, he pulled it open and worked one hand all the way to the bottom to pull out a coin at random.
After carefully examining it in the sun, he bit down into it, testing its worth. Then he repeated the procedure with the other two bags. Finally satisfied, he tied them back up and looked at the sweaty shopkeeper.
"Now it's your turn," he said quietly.
No one had to tell Worth what the young man meant. Walking to the wheelbarrow, he unrolled part of the rug to expose a large section of the magnificent scroll. As he did, Marcus winced. Whether out of greed, stupidity, or some other foolish reason, the idiot was exposing far too much of his newly acquired treasure to the world. But that wasn't Marcus' problem any more.
Sensing victory, he looked back into Worth's eyes.
I t is here, Mistress. Where?
In the center of the plaza, near the booth with the captive birds. It is hidden in a wheelbarrow. You must hurry.
Well done.
Gathering up her robes, Shailiha quickly looked around. Then she started to make her way toward the booth.
At the same time, a strangely dressed man with a painted face, and a grizzled old woman in rags began moving in the same direction.
T ristan didn't hesitate. As soon as he saw his sister move, he walked Pilgrim out into the busy plaza. Looking around, he saw that Faegan, Wigg, and Celeste were already converging on her. Tristan saw Shailiha come to a stop near a wooden vendor's stand, and watched as she looked around, searching for the scroll.
Then the prince finally saw it. The scroll seemed to be partially wrapped in something-a rug, perhaps-and it was lying in an old, dilapidated wheelbarrow. A fat, red-faced man was bending over and about to make off with the scroll, barrow and all. Knowing he had to hurry, Tristan spurred Pilgrim into a gallop across the cobblestoned yard.
That was when everything started to unravel.
Faegan had also seen the scroll and was quickly nearing the man with the wheelbarrow. As he did, the fellow seemed to suspect something and began to run, pushing the barrow as fast as he could. Raising one arm, Faegan sent a bolt of the craft toward him, forcing him to drop the barrow. Amazed, all Worth could do was to look up with horror as the prize he so coveted literally floated away on the air.
Citizens standing nearby began to scream and point. Then they began to scatter, running away from the frightening azure bolts of the craft.
As he charged toward the center of the plaza, something else suddenly caught Tristan's attention. He saw a young man, eyes wide with terror, mounting a bay horse. His saddle was loaded down with what looked to be heavy canvas bags. The boy whipped his mount in an attempt to get away.
Turning Pilgrim hard, Tristan raced to catch the boy, who was just passing a wooden booth laden with birdcages.
Then the boy's overloaded mount slipped on the cobblestones and went down hard, sliding directly into the side of the wooden booth. With a great noise the spindly booth shattered, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere. Many of the birdcages were destroyed, and the larks inside them flew out in every direction in a maelstrom of fluttering wings.