The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1) Read Free Page B

few feet away. The busy people of the city avoided her and veered around the Snipe in the meantime.
    He reached into his moneybag and pulled out a handful of the coins he had stolen earlier and walked over to hand them to the craggy old woman.
    He proffered the coins to her, holding them out in his hand for her to take. She stopped her teething on the vegetable root and eyed him suspiciously. She frowned when she recognized him.
    “Don’t need yer charity, Bayle. I do fine, I do. Got me a good meal right here!” she said, holding up the parsnip for him to see, as if it were a gilded treasure.
    He knelt down beside her and took her hand to put the money in it. “Take the coins, Almonee. It’s just a few swallowstamps and maybe a belder. You can have something more to eat than just a dirty root.”
    “Do I look a beggar to you, boy?” she said, almost insulted.
    Bayle hesitated, not wanting to answer honestly. He tried a different tactic, instead. “No one said anything about begging, my lady. It’s a gift to you, nothing else. Take them... please.”
    She allowed him to open her spotted and scabbed hand and place the coins of the realm into it, still watching him with her nose wrinkled up like he smelled offensive. She finally set the parsnip down on the paving stone and dug around in her frayed, brown cloak looking for a free pocket in which to place the coins. Bayle hoped she found one without holes in it.
    She said as she rummaged for a pocket, “Yeh tell yer mother, Astrehd, I asked after her.”
    Bayle said, “Rest easy. I will.” He was used to the fact that she couldn’t quite grasp that his foster mother was dead for a year now. Some things poor Almonee picked up on right away, and others never took hold in her mind.
    Once she had stored her coins away, Almonee picked up her lunch and stuck it in her mouth again, off to the side like a pipe. She said, “May the stars watch for yeh, good boy Bayle. “
    Bayle stood back up and tugged at the top of his hood in acknowledgement, a smile on his lips for the woman. He had turned to continue on his way when the old woman called after him again loudly, “Ho there! Boy!”
    Bayle turned back to her and noticed she had put the parsnip back down on the roadway and was now biting on one of the coins, testing it to see if it would make a better lunch. She took the coin out of her mouth and yelled at him, “Don’t need yer money, yeh hear?! Just holding onto it so’s yer not spendin’ it on mead ’n frivoles, yeh hear me?”
    Bayle had no idea what “frivoles” were. He nodded at her and called, “Of course, Almonee. Better than a banker, you are! And far more trustworthy!”
    As he walked off, he shook his head in amusement. She still insisted on calling him boy most every chance she got, even though he would very soon reach twenty years of age. A few years ago, it bothered him, but now he accepted it with a grin and a casual resignation.
    Bayle rounded the public oratory tower, the nicest one in town, and came upon Bonedown Square. The north end of the square was home to a large, splashing fountain honoring the royal family of veLohrdan. There were a few rabble children playing in it, and a few others divided into teams and playing an informal game of oxen dart with a worn leather ball in the wide open space of the square.
    Looming over the Bonedown, on its low promontory and brilliantly lit in the afternoon sun, the Folly itself stood watch over its city, over its entire realm, really, as it nestled up to the mountain of Kitemount behind it. Leading up to the barbican, a queue of a few fine carriages and mounted horsemen waited to pass through into the castle grounds of the Folly, perhaps to meet with the state treasurer or some other administrator. Bayle cynically thought to himself that those waiting were most likely representatives of other noble families of Iisen, come to petition the administrator of the crown to be allowed to raise taxes yet again.
    He