“If that’s from the same house, you’ll want to give it to me.”
Mince stuck his lip out defiantly. “It’s nothing and it’s mine. I’m a thief, see. I took it for myself in case I got the wrong house. I didn’t want to risk my neck and get nothing. So it’s my bonus. That’s how professional thieves work, see? Ya might not like it, but it’s how we do things. You and me had a deal and I’ve done my part. Don’t get all high-and-mighty or go on about bad morals, ’cuz I get enough of that from the monks.”
The light grew brighter and began flashing on and off.
Royce was disturbed. “What is that?”
“Like I said, it’s none of yer business,” Mince snapped, and pulled away. He looked down once more and whispered, “Stop it, will ya! People can see. I’ll get in trouble.”
“Listen, I don’t have a problem with a little theft,” Royce told him. “You can trust me on that. But if you took something of value from that house, you’d be wise to give it to me. This might sound like a trick, but I’m only trying to help. You don’t understand who you’re dealing with. The owner will find you. He’s very meticulous.”
“What’s that mean… meticulous?”
“Let’s just say he’s not a forgiving man. He will kill you, Elbright, and Brand. Not to mention anyone else you have regular contact with, just to be thorough.”
“I’m keeping it!” Mince snapped.
Royce rolled his eyes and sighed.
The boy struggled to cover up by doubling over and wrapping his arms around his chest. As he did, the light blinked faster and now alternated different colors. “By Mar, just give me the money, will ya? Before one of the guards sees.”
Royce handed him five silver coins and watched as the boy took off. He ran hunched over, emitting a rapidly blinking light that faded and eventually stopped.
Mince entered the loft by climbing to the roof of the warehouse, pulling back a loose board near the eaves, and scrambling through the hole. The Nest, as they dubbed their home, was the result of poor carpentry. A mistake made when the East Sundries Company had built their warehouse against the common wall of the Bingham Carriage House & Blacksmith Shop. A mismeasurement had left a gap, which was sealed shut with side boards. Over the years, the wood had warped.
While trying to break into the warehouse, Elbright had noticed a gap between the boards that revealed the hidden space. He never found a way into the storehouse, but he had discovered the perfect hideout. The little attic was three feet tall and five feet wide and ran the length of the common wall. Thanks to the long hours of the blacksmiths, who usually kept a fire burning, it was also marginally heated.
A collection of treasures gathered from the city’s garbage littered The Nest, including moth-eaten garments, burned bits of lumber, fragments of hides tossed out by the tanner, cracked pots, and chipped cups.
Kine lay huddled in a ball against the chimney. Mince had made him a bed of straw and tucked their best blanket around him, but his friend still shivered. The little bit of his face not covered by the blanket was pale white, and his bluish lips quivered miserably.
“How ya doing?” Mince asked.
“C-c-cold,” Kine replied weakly.
Mince put a hand to the brick chimney. “Bastards are trying to save coal again.”
“Is there any food?” Kine asked.
Mince pulled the wedge of cheese from his pocket. Kine took a bite and immediately started to vomit. Nothing came up, but he retched just the same. He continued to convulse for several minutes, then collapsed, exhausted.
“I’m like Tibith, ain’t I?” Kine managed to say.
“No,” Mince lied, sitting down beside him. He hoped to keep Kine warm with his body. “You’ll be fine the moment the fire is lit. You’ll see.”
Mince fished the money out of his other pocket to show Kine. “Hey, look, I got coin—five silver! I could buy ya a hot meal, how would that be?”
“Don’t,” Kine replied. “Don’t waste it.”
“What do ya mean? When is hot soup ever a waste?”
“I’m like Tibith. Soup won’t help.”
“I told ya, yer not like that,” Mince insisted, slamming the silver in a cup he decided at that moment to use as a bank.
“I can’t feel my feet anymore, Mince, and my hands tingle. I ache all over and my head pounds and… and… I pissed myself today. Did you hear me—I pissed myself! I am like Tibith. I’m just like he was and I’m gonna die just like him.”
“I said ya ain’t. Now quit it!”
“My lips are blue, ain’t they?”
“Be quiet, Kine, just—”
“By Mar, Mince, I don’t want to die!” Kine shook even more as he cried.
Mince felt his stomach churn as tears dripped down his cheeks too. Victims never recovered once their lips went blue.
He looked around for something else to wrap his friend in and then remembered the robe.