back, with numerous bits of odd, colorless jewelry swinging from her bent neck and arms. Her face reminded one of her clothes: not ugly, exactly, but worn beyond shape and usefulness. In days long gone Murie had been a pretty lady- now she was too old and tired to care about much more than her daily life of herbs, stitchery, droughts and medicines.
Gribly was her only exception. She had raised him ever since he had appeared on her doorstep as a babe, and he had repaid her by learning to steal the things she needed for her profession that were too expensive to buy. The healing balm he sought was one such thing, and though Old Murie was cautious about her adopted son’s sneaking, he knew that inside she was proud. Being a good thief was a respectable profession in the underbelly of Ymeer’s population.
And whatever else he might be, Gribly was an excellent thief.
Guards patrolled the tops of the inner walls that sealed in the royal market, but it had been so long since they’d had to deal with any real threat that they were usually asleep and always lazy. Nevertheless, before Gribly stepped out from his hiding place under the eaves of the tall houses, he scanned the battlements for any sign of movement. One could never be too careful…. As soon as he decided it was safe, the young thief looked both ways, then sped across the thin band of open street towards the inner walls. His mission was an easy success, so far.
The hard sandstone walls stretched up infinitely above his head, but Gribly was not especially concerned: he had his secret.
“Speed. Silence. Stealth,” he recited to himself. An old pickpocket had given him the motto when he was eleven, and he had never forgotten it.
Slowly, shivering with anticipation, Gribly lifted his hands to touch the wall. Then things began to go wrong. The sound of tramping feet reached his ears from somewhere just past the closest bend in the wall. Guards. His eyes darted in all directions, looking for a sufficient hiding place, but there was nothing nearby. Thwarted but not afraid, he edged quickly along the wall in the opposite direction, hoping for opportunity to present itself.
Nothing. Soon he was nearing the gates into the royal market. Every survival sense in him was throbbing for him to flee, but something inside told him that this would be his only chance to get inside. If the guards were up and about so soon, there must be something special going on in Ymeer- a crackdown on the city’s criminals, perhaps. That would spell disaster for Old Murie getting her healing balm.
Gribly continued on his course around the edge of the rounded wall, but in seconds he heard the frightening sound of booted footsteps again- from the direction he was headed for.
“Blast, blast, blast,” he growled, using the desert's own name as a curse. He was directly in front of the gates now, and with only seconds to act. Throwing his eyes upward and shielding them from the sun, he saw an unexpected way out. The gates were huge and solid, banded and hinged with spiked iron: impassable. But the gateway arch was just a smidgen too big; the gates were spiked at the top and didn’t fill up the space. If he could just climb up there…
Half a second before the two groups of guards stepped into view from either edge of the walls, Gribly slipped out of sight and into the recess where the gates stood. He stepped to the right edge, where the arch began at the ground and shot up straight before curving inward. It was time to use his secret. His gift.
The sandy-haired youth adjusted a saggy pouch hanging at his hip, then raised his arms and placed his palms on the sandstone where it was chilled by the gateway’s shadow.
Let it work, he pleaded in his mind. Let me climb fast and sure. Then he slid his palms up as high as they would go, and pulled himself up after them. His hands stuck to
Gribly was her only exception. She had raised him ever since he had appeared on her doorstep as a babe, and he had repaid her by learning to steal the things she needed for her profession that were too expensive to buy. The healing balm he sought was one such thing, and though Old Murie was cautious about her adopted son’s sneaking, he knew that inside she was proud. Being a good thief was a respectable profession in the underbelly of Ymeer’s population.
And whatever else he might be, Gribly was an excellent thief.
Guards patrolled the tops of the inner walls that sealed in the royal market, but it had been so long since they’d had to deal with any real threat that they were usually asleep and always lazy. Nevertheless, before Gribly stepped out from his hiding place under the eaves of the tall houses, he scanned the battlements for any sign of movement. One could never be too careful…. As soon as he decided it was safe, the young thief looked both ways, then sped across the thin band of open street towards the inner walls. His mission was an easy success, so far.
The hard sandstone walls stretched up infinitely above his head, but Gribly was not especially concerned: he had his secret.
“Speed. Silence. Stealth,” he recited to himself. An old pickpocket had given him the motto when he was eleven, and he had never forgotten it.
Slowly, shivering with anticipation, Gribly lifted his hands to touch the wall. Then things began to go wrong. The sound of tramping feet reached his ears from somewhere just past the closest bend in the wall. Guards. His eyes darted in all directions, looking for a sufficient hiding place, but there was nothing nearby. Thwarted but not afraid, he edged quickly along the wall in the opposite direction, hoping for opportunity to present itself.
Nothing. Soon he was nearing the gates into the royal market. Every survival sense in him was throbbing for him to flee, but something inside told him that this would be his only chance to get inside. If the guards were up and about so soon, there must be something special going on in Ymeer- a crackdown on the city’s criminals, perhaps. That would spell disaster for Old Murie getting her healing balm.
Gribly continued on his course around the edge of the rounded wall, but in seconds he heard the frightening sound of booted footsteps again- from the direction he was headed for.
“Blast, blast, blast,” he growled, using the desert's own name as a curse. He was directly in front of the gates now, and with only seconds to act. Throwing his eyes upward and shielding them from the sun, he saw an unexpected way out. The gates were huge and solid, banded and hinged with spiked iron: impassable. But the gateway arch was just a smidgen too big; the gates were spiked at the top and didn’t fill up the space. If he could just climb up there…
Half a second before the two groups of guards stepped into view from either edge of the walls, Gribly slipped out of sight and into the recess where the gates stood. He stepped to the right edge, where the arch began at the ground and shot up straight before curving inward. It was time to use his secret. His gift.
The sandy-haired youth adjusted a saggy pouch hanging at his hip, then raised his arms and placed his palms on the sandstone where it was chilled by the gateway’s shadow.
Let it work, he pleaded in his mind. Let me climb fast and sure. Then he slid his palms up as high as they would go, and pulled himself up after them. His hands stuck to
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