Chapter Two: Iora

Myrian, Ethear

In the capital city, Myrian, a green-striped awning left a patch of shade on the cobblestone walk below it. Resting in that shadow, two girls were huddled together, whispering. The girl named Iora smiled at the blonde-braided girl next to her. "All right, Oriole, time to put your pretty-dancing to the test, you ready?"

"I was born ready." Oriole grinned, excitement dancing in her dark brown eyes. "I'll come back with enough gold to make us king-makers."

"How about enough for some bread and some good, fresh fruit for once?"

"Easy as flattering a lordling."

"How about enough for cheese?"

"I will bring enough to buy an entire cow."

Iora bit her lip, and ran a nervous hand through her black hair. "I guess there's nothing left to say then, except good luck. I wish you the best."

"I don't need luck. I am a natural."

"Of course, but remember if there's any trouble Falcon and Egret are waiting in west alley, and Kingfisher is at the northeast end."

"I'll be fine, Iora, don't worry about me."

"It's my job to worry about my flock."

"Were you always a mother hen?"

"Watch your mouth, Miss Oriole. I am the leader of the Hawk Gang."

"You've only been one for three days."

"That's long enough. Since Albatross . . ." She broke off abruptly, and spoke her next words quieter. "Since he got taken by those pox-cursed guards with their waving pig-stickers."

"Bloody Ambers."

"Yeah."

"And curse the bloody murderer they serve."

"Oriole . . ." Iora warned. "A wrong word, and . . ."

"Who will tell him?"

"Don't be rash. His majesty" here there was a bite in her voice "has his spies everywhere."

"I know, Iora. It won't happen again."

"We can't lose another, we needed Albatross. I still need him, and . . ."

"I know, but there will be another member of your gang soon, this fledgling is about to take wing."

Iora laughed, and if it sounded a little forced, Oriole pretended not to notice. "Well, then, what are you waiting for? Go pick some pockets."

"I'll show you some sparkles, Iora. Just watch."

The blonde-braided head left the shadows of the awning behind. She nodded once, before disappearing into the crowd of jingling pockets and cultured accents. Iora moved to the line of wooden stalls, and pretended to browse.

Secretly, she watched from the corner of her eye, while resting by the smelly contents of the fish seller's stall. Oriole changed her gait into the swift, graceful strides of the gentry, perfect. Oriole wouldn't draw suspicion in that crowd of silks and velvets and gold. She only hoped the impetuous girl wouldn't lapse into city cant. "Come on." She whispered to herself, so quietly no one could hear. "Come on."

Oriole's long fingers slipped into pockets and relieved a few coins here, and a couple of necklaces there. A woman decked out in gaudy jewels lost a pearl strand, while her neighbor lost her jade broach. A black-bearded man with watchful eyes was spared, while his mistress lost her amber bracelet. Two noblemen, deep in conversation, were relieved of their heavy pockets. Another young man smiled at Oriole's pretty face, and lost a handful coins as she returned his flirtatious grin.

Iora's lips upturned. The newest member of her gang was passing her initiation with flying colors. The guards in their bright amber uniforms overlooked the pretty girl, and swept across the crowd for more intimidating criminals. The trainee moved about undetected.

Oriole emerged from the crowd, pretending to glance at the stalls. She paused, but not long enough to stir the interest of the ever-watching guards. Iora crossed her fingers, but the worst was passed. Already the pockets of Oriole's red tunic were jingling with enough coin to feed her gang for a week, maybe longer if she could steal some food to aid it.

And then it all went wrong . . .

Oriole tripped on an outstretched beggar's foot, and coins went flying onto the cobblestone streets. The beggars about her reached out greedy hands to shove the bright coins in their pockets. The guards turned to see the cause of the commotion, and zeroed in on Oriole in her bright red tunic, hands uselessly grasping for her lost coins. Vulture eyes in garish uniforms spotted a thief when she spilled her stolen goods for the world to see.

"No." Iora breathed. "Oh God, no."

She motioned for Egret and Falcon to come from their alleys and distract the guards. Kingfisher nodded to her from across the market crowed and wove his way towards the terrified novice. She herself cautiously turned from the stall with an apologetic smile to its owner, who was glaring at her and looking at her pockets suspiciously..

"Thank you, ma'am, best find my sister now. She might get in trouble without me." The old woman nodded, and her searching face relaxed.

"Can't be too careful nowadays, what with all these thieves and all this gang warfare about." Iora flashed an insincere smile, and turned to aid her gang.

She watched carefully as Falcon shoved Egret, which pushed him into the pathway of the guards. Egret went wild, clawing at Falcon tooth and nail. Falcon aimed a swing at Egret, but somehow clipped the man next to him. He ducked the return swing at it pushed a yellow–gowned woman into the city muck. Her companion turned enraged to punish the offender. His fist never connected as he tripped over a kneeling beggar and her child. She gnashed her teeth, and drew out a knife.

Iora made her way slowly through the beginning brawl, giving shoves here and there, wherever they would prove the most distracting. She ducked a fist and danced over an outstretched foot. When she reached his side, Egret looked up and met her eye. Iora nodded once, and he tapped Falcon. The three wove through the bedlam, and back to Iora's side.

Behind them, the market guards in their amber colors fought to keep order among the panicking townspeople. A couple drew their swords, and held them threateningly, lips forming orders that were clearly not obeyed. For seven minutes of work, it wasn't a bad distraction.

"Good work, gentlemen." Iora bit her lip. "That might be a new record."

"No one messes with a Hawk." Falcon said modestly, hands thrust into patched pockets. "We take care of our own."

Egret grinned and ran his fingers through his reddish hair. "A kiss from you would make it all worthwhile, my lady."

She laughed, and blew one to him. He reached into the air, but another hand grabbed the imaginary kiss from the air before he could grasp it. Kingfisher had returned to them.

He looked solemn, his hand firmly around Oriole's arm. "I got her."

Oriole turned frantic green eyes from face to face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, I'm so sorry."

"Your clumsiness just cost us a week's earnings. There won't be another market day until the next." Egret snapped. "I think you owe us more than a sorry."

"Peace." Iora said calmly, looking Oriole up and down.

"Please, Iora, I'll do anything. Just – please, please don't throw me out. Please, I'm begging you."

"It's within her rights." Kingfisher said mildly. "We could have been hurt rescuing you. We can't have some tyro running about and getting her friends and fellows murdered."

Oriole stared at Iora, tears beginning at the corners of her eyes. "I'll do anything."

There was a silence, as Iora weighed her options. She couldn't look weak in front of her flock. She couldn't forgive the harmless error without punishment. But it was only clumsiness after all . . . "Oriole, you are clearly not ready for the life of a thief, as this exercise proves." Oriole's face fell. "However, I will put you on trial basis until we determine you're ready for real work."

Joy bloomed on Oriole's face as bright and sudden as a sunburst. Egret looked from Oriole to Iora. "Iora, I don't think . . ."

"We can't lose an able-bodied thief. We'll need all we can train for the times ahead."

"But we can't have . . ."

"There are more guards than ever, Egret. The Hounds and the Knives are growing too strong. Soon not even the Arrows can stop them from exacting blood tolls from the other gangs. We'll need everyone we can get."

Egret sighed deeply. "A trial basis it is then."