Ori had watched as they accepted his version of the events, felt for holes in his story left to protect his mentor, and found that each thief wanted to believe anything but a Sparrow who would beat a child. They accepted his claims wholeheartedly, marked Sparrow blameless to all, and now the old man stood with a group of toughs and the newly minted members of the Kings. Heron and the Queen stood out, but Ori knew none of the others but by their look. Thin and fat, old and young, these men had the face of killers, those who used fists and feet and weapons of all types to drop men low for slights.
“An aggression like this cannot stand. Upjumped thugs attacking a boy under the hand of a King? Even if the child was just brought into our family, he has had our protection since Sparrow brought him to heel.” Heron the Large said, pointing towards Ori with one of his sausage thick fingers. “We’ll need to be quick, and quiet, and get this done by dawn. Burn the damned fools out of their holes and give them a beating they’ll not forget.”
“While I am not one for blood, the fat man has a point.” the blind man Ori knew as Mole Hill responded, his grip hard on Owl’s shoulder.
“A blind man calling me fat? Has your woman told of how well I fit her bed?”
“I don’t need a story, Sir Heron. The broken spars tell the tale well enough.”
The two laughed, Heron putting an arm around the blind thief as they whispered in confidence. Mole seemed to look around the room as they whispered, a smile showing his dead front tooth playing across his face. Heron’s face went from smiling to frown, then a low growling chuckle came from deep in the warrior’s chest.
“The new blood will spill blood today. Owl, Ori, Crane, and the tall boy-”
“... Wisteria. Wisteria Brave.”
The room went quiet as the thief who had brought the boy came up. Even Ori knew Rose Brave, the greatest of the King’s thieves. Born in Kingsbridge the daughter of Duke Orchid Brave, she was said to have fallen in love with a Barrow boy and ran away. When you saw the Braves together you saw the resemblance; features too fine for the people of the streets, the black hair plaited.
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“Do you not trust my boy, Heron? Mole Hill, I have known you since you were Clever Mole Hill, and never questioned your judgment. My son is trained to the blade and basher, and can fire a true bow as well as an alley bow. He will do the honorable thing, and go with the other little thieflings to take blood.” her look across them all was harsh, and Ori near felt the need to bow and scrape for a true Lady among the Kings. Mole looked towards the family arrayed there then turned his head to the gathered children.
“Tis settled then. Four against three. Bloody them up, I want no murder to bring the damn striped nits down on us. We’d win, but we may lose more than the victory was worth. If they run, let them. If you have a chance to burn them out? Do so. Don’t go torching the whole damn Tannery, but don’t come back without proof. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” they replied, all but Wisteria in unison. The tall boy seemed out of place now, having been called to heel and ready to answer. Wisteria looked towards the others gathered and gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve done some hunting with my father, but I’ve never gone after people.”
“Well, most people are smarter than an animal. Slower. But they have weapons.”
“Seems fair to me,” Owl said, “we’re bringing our own.” The stout boy, appointed to King Mob, tapped a basher Heron handed him, as the thug passed them out to the rest of the crew.
“It’s not about fair.” Ori said, pausing to look around them. “They wanted to kill me. This is about surprise. Shock. And making sure we leave a message.”
Heron whistled then, looking over the group. He walked to Ori, holding out a shirt to the young man. It was too big for Ori, but the material felt cool and soft against his skin, seeming to fall across his frame as pleasing as possible. Heron took a basher and with a quick strike slammed into Ori. His new shirt let out a sound like a ringing bell, and Ori found he was still conscious, a great surprise to all who saw it.
“It’s hardsilk, boy. Can take a hit like a suit of plate, feels as soft as a kiss. I don’t got another, so don’t let them burn it or spill anything unless it’s blood if you can help it.” the miserly thug laughed, shaking Ori’s hand. He leaned into the boy’s ear, whispering low. “You see son? You’ll come out of this well, make sure the rest of them keep. You’re Sparrow’s boy, and they already know you’re leading this riot.”
Ori smiled back, glad to hear the man’s words. I’ll lead them, and bring them home. The least I can give for getting them into this damned mess. “I promise I’ll bring them back safe, sir. On my honor.”
“Your honor? You’re a thief, boy. Bring them back on your life.”
