“The lesson we were teaching the girl could just as easily be extended to you,” the nobleman said, drawing his sword. All three of the wallhuggers had swords, she saw now. They were probably good with them too, and there was no way she could fight them all with a dagger. Kyra scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who might help her. Faces stared back at her, but no one stepped forward. There were even two Red Shields in the crowd, simply watching. Lettie was nowhere in sight, though Kyra supposed that was a good thing at the moment.
Well, there was one way she could defeat three swordsmen. Kyra felt inward for the sense of her fur. But she was surrounded by people. What would she do to them if she changed? She snuck another glance at Idalee behind her. The girl lay with her temple against the ground, too tired even to lift her head.
There was a flash of motion in her periphery as Purple Tunic chose that moment to attack. Kyra jumped to the side to dodge his blade, remembering at the last moment not to impale herself on her dagger. The slick mud cushioned her fall, but it was also ice-cold and sucked at her clothes when she tried to stand. The nobleman advanced on her. As Kyra regained her feet, he stopped and stared at her neck. Kyra looked down to see that Malikel’s medallion had come out of her tunic.
“Where did you get that? Did you steal it?”
Kyra gripped the medallion in her hand. “My name is Kyra of Forge. I’m under the Defense Minister’s direct command.”
“Liar.”
But then one of Purple Tunic’s companions stepped forward. “Santon, Malikel did take on the girl criminal recently.”
Santon looked at Kyra again, his eyes narrowing. Kyra dropped into a defensive crouch, but the nobleman spat on the ground and backed away. “I don’t know who you are, wench, but be careful. Not even Malikel’s protection goes very far.”
The three wallhuggers turned, and the crowd parted for them as they left.
Kyra rushed to Idalee’s side, choking back a sob as she tried to discern the extent of Idalee’s injuries. There were cuts and bruises on the girl’s face, and the way she lay there without propping herself up made Kyra wonder about her arm. Idalee’s breathing was pained and shallow, and her skin was deathly pale.
“I’m sorry,” Idalee whispered. Her voice was devoid of emotion.
“Shush.” Kyra wiped the blood from Idalee’s nose. “It wasn’t your fault.” Then Kyra sat up in panic. “Where’s Lettie?”
“She’s here.” The crowd parted to reveal Ollie holding Lettie’s hand, and Kyra squeezed the girl to her chest. “Are you all right?”
“Aye.” The child was trembling, but she was otherwise composed. It wasn’t the first beating she’d witnessed.
The gutter rats crowded around now, a tangle of rags and bony limbs. A girl with mousy features wiped the mud off Idalee’s face, while a pale boy poured water over her cuts. It suddenly struck Kyra how efficiently they went about their tasks, how everybody seemed to already know what to do when one of their own was gravely hurt.
“Tell me what happened,” Kyra said to Lettie.
Lettie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “It was the same wallhuggers who overturned her bread basket. Idalee called him a sniveling purple-headed worm.”
Oh, Idalee.
“We need to get her to a healer,” said Kyra. She looked down at Idalee. “Can you walk?”
Idalee nodded, her face lined with pain, and Kyra took her good arm to help her up. But after a few steps, Idalee started to whimper and her legs folded underneath her. There was a layer of sweat on the girl’s brow as Kyra eased her back to the ground, and she was so very pale.
“Stay with her,” Kyra said to the children. “I’ll be back.”