The Longest Lament

Chapter X

Corwin watched the stranger making his way through the winding streets. His pace and frequent stops made it clear he was an outsider, and probably lost. His clothing was bland; though clearly expensive and well-tailored, it lacked the gaudy, eye jarring colors and extravagant design that any wealthy merchant or noble of the city would be wearing. He wore simple black trousers with a black and red shirt fastened by a column of neat silver buttons up one side. All well-cut, but usually those with wealth went to every length to flaunt their success.

He was unsure whether the man's strangeness boded well or ill for his chances, but, on impulse, he decided to gamble. At worst he'd waste a bit of time.

Corwin stepped from his vantage point in the alley just as the man turned a blind corner, his basket poised and ready. His timing was perfect. His first step should have carried him headlong into the side of the man. Instead, he found himself stopped dead in his tracks by a heavy hand pressing squarely into his chest.

Corwin's eyes followed the hand up the arm until he was looking up into a stern, disapproving face. The jig was up.

He tried to jerk backwards, but strong fingers closed around the front of his shirt and held him fast. He tried to wriggle loose, something he was very good at, but there was no give in the man's grip. In his struggle, Corwin dropped his basket. The man's free hand seemed to materialize out of midair and snatch the basket a full foot from the ground.

The man held his grip on Corwin while he looked down to examine the contents of the basket. He glanced back up at the boy, raising a single black eyebrow, and overturned the basket into the street. A large clump of mud and a few stale crumbs of bread were all that fell out.

The man hard eyes scrutinized the squirming child.

“Noticed you watching half a street back. I expected an ambush, a knife in the side, at the least a pass at my pockets...instead I find a child with a basket full of mud." He tilted his head sideways. "So what’s the game, boy? We collide, the basket falls in the puddle, your dinner is ruined, oh the poor starving boy must go hungry once again?" He looked up. "Am I near the mark?"

Corwin looked into the man's stern eyes, and saw neither amusement nor anger. He shrugged as well as he could while held firmly in the man's grip.

A smile spread wide the man's cheeks. "Clever," he said with obvious approval. "On someone else, it may have even worked."

Corwin stumbled back a few feet as the man's hold released. His first instinct was to bolt, but after a moment’s consideration, he decided the big man could probably catch him. Besides, he was interesting. No one had ever caught him before.

The man scratched a small growth of black beard sprouting from his chin and gave Corwin and appraising look. "How much would your little act have normally earned you, lad? Say, with someone generous."

Seeing no reason to lie, Corwin gave another shrug. "A few coppers, maybe. A silver or two if I looked like one of his kids."

"Enough to eat like a beggar king for a day, then, or a ways longer if you stretch it, as I'm sure you would have. How about I offer you a little job, and then send you off with enough coin to feed your greedy little mouth for a full week, instead?"

Corwin regarded the man skeptically. There were an awful lot of things worse than begging.

"Of course, I could simply drag you to the nearest guard outpost and explain the situation to them, if you'd rather." He gave a wry smile. "I'm sure they'd be very impressed by what a clever little thief you are."

"I'm not a thief. Maybe I'm a liar, but who isn't?"

"An interesting distinction, lad. I doubt the guards would see much difference, though."