From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Oct 18 13:58:21 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8810 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!caen!reeve.research.aa.wl.com!WS008013F18C2D!simonj From: simonj@rh.wl.com (Jeff Simon) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Jake Shade] Chapter 2: The High Price of Silver (Repost) Date: Wed, 18 Oct 1995 04:12:42 EDT Organization: Parke-Davis Rochester Lines: 367 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: 198.205.215.16 X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B final beta #4] ************************************************************************ The story so far: A mysterious outlander has arrived in the city of Generica. He carries a unholy weapon of unknown providence. Now the story turns to the lives of two young thieves struggling to survive in the slums of the Low City. ************************************************************************ When the Boss-man comes, He knows damn well he has been cheated. - Golden Earring Chapter 2: The High Price of Silver From the mouth of the alley, Yvette watched the bazaar with intense eyes. The twenty-year old woman had the patience of an experienced hunter. Experience had taught her already that any sign of impatience was likely to be rewarded with failure. And hunger. From time to time a member of the City Watch would pass by. When that happened, Yvette would drift further back into the concealing shadows of the alley. No point in being recognized. A Watchman might recall later just who had been seen loitering in the area. The sun was directly overhead, and still there was no sign of her partner. Sweat crawled slowly across her scalp like a liquid centipede; winding its way with irritating slowness through her jet black hair. Ten paces away, Big Leorn was hawking his fruits to the afternoon passersby. His bald pate shone in the hot sun. Then she spotted him. A young boy of fourteen or fifteen staggered up the main street of the bazaar. He was either dazed from the sun or high on Cha-weed, it was hard to tell. It was Winder, her younger brother. Yvette gathered herself as Winder approached the fruit vendor's stall. Slowly, she drifted forward, out of the alley. When things began to get interesting, she was ready. "Hey! Watch it you snot-nosed little punk!" Big Leorn snarled in anger as the boy, overcome by either drugs or sunstroke, collapsed against the side of his stall. A large pile of dates collapsed and avalanched to the ground. Leorn bellowed in outrage. "You little bastard, if you had a father I'd . . ." Yvette shut out the torrent of vituperation as she focused on her target. With practiced, casual ease, she brushed by the fruit-seller's stall; quickly enough that no one witnessed her theft, slow enough to avoid attracting attention. She had almost made it back to the alley with a melon in either hand when she heard Winder's cry for help. Whirling, she saw that Big Leorn had seized her brother by the front of his ragged tunic. The beefy merchant shook the youth until his teeth rattled. Yvette stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Then Leorn balled one ham-like hand into a fist, and Winder bawled in terror. Yvette moved with the speed of thought. The melon had almost left her hand before she realized the course of action she would take. Big Leorn staggered as the melon splattered against his bald pate with considerable force. He lost his grip on Winder, who fell sprawling into the dust. Big Leorn spun around, mopping his head with one hand while trying to identify his assailant through a sludge of melon juice and pulp. Yvette shrieked abuse at him, adding insult to injury and keeping his attention planted firmly on herself. "You bald bastard! If you had any balls at all you'd pick on someone your own size!" Leorn growled, and produced a nasty looking cudgel from underneath his counter. "I'll show you who's got the balls, little she-bitch." The big fruit-seller vaulted his counter, spilling even more of his wares to the ground. Yvette hesitated only long enough to make sure Winder had made his escape. She spotted him pelting up the street, thin legs churning up dust. Then she turned and fled down the alley,the fruit seller in hot pursuit. With the grace of a gazelle, Yvette dodged down the alley hurdling slumbering derelicts and piles of garbage alike. She quickly put an insurmountable distance between herself and the angry merchant. Dimly, she could make out the enraged bellows of the merchant falling ever further behind her. She kept to the back streets and alleys, avoiding any route upon which she was likely to encounter a member of the City Watch. Even following this twisted and labrythine path, she was able to cover the distance to their hideout within half an hour. She scanned the area quickly before going in, checking for the Watch. Winder was so happy to see her he almost leapt into her arms. "Hey, Sis. Nice Throw! Maybe you should try out for the Generican hurtle-ball team!" His blue eyes shone with glee. "For a minute there, I thought I was a goner!" he laughed. He continued to bounce around the burned out bakery they called home, the adrena- line released by his narrow escape turning him into a small whirlwind of exuberance. "As it is, that throw cost us half of tonight's dinner." Yvette groused, dividing the remaining melon with a dull knife they had found in the rubble. "Ahhh, don't sweat it, Sis." Winder laughed, snatching up his half of the melon and taking a huge bite. "And why is that, you crazy mook?" she asked wearily. Winder grinned at her, his face shiny with melon juice. Yvette resisted the urge to wipe his face. He was too old for that now. Anyway, she wasn't his mother, was she? "I scored us a little bonus while Leorn was busy cleaning melon off his head." Winder said proudly. He produced a leather pouch, its cut strings still dangling. With a grin, the youth scattered the contents on the ground between them. "Oh, Winder." Yvette said sadly. She collapsed onto a sagging bench and held her head between her hands. "What the hell's the matter with you, Sis?" Winder demanded angrily. Yvette said nothing, her eyes hidden behind a curtain of raven-black hair. Despair threatened to overwhelm her. If she or Winder had been caught stealing food . . . well, that was one thing. Cutting the purse strings of a local merchant was an entirely different type of crime. If Big Leorn were mad enough to take it to the Merchant's Guild, that could bring some serious heat down upon them. Not to mention what the powerful Thieves'Guild might do to them if they learned who had been poaching on their turf. This was a big step. It was not one she had been prepared to make. Winder wasn't going to let up on her. "Don't get all uptight on me, Yve." he admonished his older sibling. "I'm tired of being one bad day away from starvation. We need this money bad. You know that with mom...." her brother trailed off, not wanting to bring up the painful subject. Yvette said nothing, just rocked slowly back and forth on her haunches,eyes far away. Not knowing what else to say, Winder poked idly at the small pile of silver coins. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, pulling something from the pile. ****************** "What the hell do you mean, you lost it?" the man with straw-colored hair shouted. Big Leorn sweated profusely as the man circled him. He was in a dark room, sitting in a small circle of light cast by a single lantern hanging above. A number of silent men leaned against the walls of the room, concealed by shadows. Bound hand and foot to a heavy oak chair, he was unable to turn his head to see them. "What I meant to say Mister Falchion, was that it was stolen. I didn't lose it." Falchion, the leader of these dangerous men, continued to stalk the room, his brow furrowed in thought. His straw-colored hair looked almost white whenever his pacing brought him close to the circle of light. After a while, his pale blue eyes turned toward the fruit-seller again. "By two street-rats?" he asked with increduality. "That's right sir." "Who you never saw before in your life?" "Never." the fruit-seller agreed vigorously, obviously having decided that the best way to get out of this with his skin intact was to be as cooperative as possible. Falchion paused in his interminable pacing and glared at the frightened merchant. "Let's go over it one more time, shall we? We sent you to the Dothasian ship to pick up the talisman. You made the exchange with Grauth as planned. You didn't take the package directly to Malfaedor like we told you, instead you decided to open up your shop as usual, and collect a day's profits. Am I correct so far?" Leorn nodded in confirmation, his piggy eyes darting back and forth. He tried once again to discern the expressions of the men standing in the shadows but failed. Falchion let out a sigh. "Describe these two gutter-snipes for me again, Leorn." he ordered. Big Leorn did so in as fine a detail as he could manage. When he finished, Falchion looked over the merchant's shoulder at one of his men. The man shook his head in the negative, meaning that the two thieves Big Leorn had described were not well enough known to be identified. Falchion closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at his forehead. "Okay Leorn, you're sure that you've told me everything?" he asked gently. "Yes sir." Leorn said humbly. "Nothing that you might clarify for us, no details that you might recall later?" "Sir, I've told you everything." the big merchant leaned forward, dripping with sincerity. His eyes beseeched Falchion to believe him. "There's nothing more I can tell you." Falchion let out a sigh. "I believe you Leorn." He patted the big man on his shoulder. "I guess we're done with you." Relieved, Leorn sagged in his chair as much as the ropes would allow, the tension running out of him like water. "Thanks Mr. Falchion, you really had me worried there for a moment." Falchion looked at one of the men standing behind the fruit-seller. "Kill him." The man stepped forward out of the shadows and slid a loop of wire around the merchant's neck. Leorn's brown eyes widened in abject terror as the cruel metal noose bit deeply into the flesh of his neck, cutting off all oxygen. The big man struggled wildly against the ropes that bound him, desperate to claw that noose from around his throat. His face darkened; first to red, then to purple. Falchion watched as Leorn's struggles became weaker and weaker. Finally the big man went limp. The man with the wire was cautious, continuing to hold the wire tight for another minute or so. Falchion nodded his approval. If Big Leorn had been equally cautious, he would probably still be alive. One of his men stepped forward. "What do we do now, boss?" Falchion rubbed his forehead. He could feel the onset of a migraine. "Put the word out. Let all our 'changers' know that these two might be trying to fence the artifact. Get some men down to the slums, and also the bazaar. See if they can find a bump and snatch team that matches the description Big Leorn gave us. I want men out there until we find these two, is that understood?" His men nodded respectfully. Falchion rubbed his head again, cursing the pain throbbing in his temples. "Meanwhile, I'd better go talk to Grace." His tone of voice made it plain that it was not an idea he relished. ****************** "It looks like a talisman of some kind." Winder said wonder- ingly. He held the talisman up to the light that shone in from a hole in the bakery wall. The talisman spun slowly on its thin silver chain, reflecting the evening sunlight in its sinuous coils "I wonder if it's a good luck charm?" Yvette made no reply, still shut within her nearly autistic world of depression. Winder sighed. His older sister had not been the same ever since she had been caught stealing by a Watch Lieutenant the year before. She had eventually escaped, but something was different now. Yvette had never confided in Winder exactly what had happened, but the fifteen year old was mature enough to have some suspicions. The coals of a long-banked fire began to smoulder again as Winder thought of the Lieutenant's smirking face. The teenager choked his anger down, nothing could be done about what had happened. Not yet anyway. Needing to blow off some steam, Winder grabbed up his share of the coins and stood, heading for the door. He looked back and saw his sister sitting silently in the shadows. She looked vulnerable and alone. Winder went back and knelt down next to his sister. He put the talisman around her neck. Somehow, it looked right there. Satisfied, he straightened up and went outside. He had people to see. The light of day had long since faded from the sky when Yvette finally stirred. She looked at the ten silver coins gleaming by her feet. She took them up and hid nine of them in her secret spot behind one of the ruined ovens. The tenth she slid within her belt pouch. She unfolded a threadbare cloak and wrapped it around herself, then stepped out into the cool nighttime streets of Generica. She walked for a long time. Finally she stood before a sign that said: FUTURIA CRYSTALSHARD: FORTUNE TELLER. For a long time she stood there, gathering her courage. Then she took a deep breath, and went inside. **************************************************************************** Jake Shade is a copyright of Jeff A. Simon, all rights reserved. Republication or reposting of this or any portion of the Outlander Chronicles is prohibited without the permission of the author. This story may be archived to A.P.D.I. and Games.FRP. Archives and can be distibuted for private use to those who request it from the keepers of those Archives. Copyrighted 1995. ***************************************************************************** -- The opinions expressed in this message are mine alone. This message does not necessarily reflect the positions or opinions of my company or organization.