The Thief Lord Read Free Page A

worried. Keeping an eye on Bo was difficult. Ever since they had run away from their grandfather's house, Prosper had asked himself at least three times a day whether he had been right to take his little brother with him. On that night, eight weeks ago, Bo had trailed alongside him with sleepy eyes. He had held on to his big brother's hand all the way to the station.
    Getting to Venice had been easier than Prosper had expected. But it was already autumn when they arrived in the city, and the air had not been as warm and gentle as Prosper had imagined it to be. A damp wind had greeted them as they climbed down the steps from the station, blowing right through their thin clothes. All they had with them was a small bag and a backpack. Prosper's allowance hadn't lasted long, and after the second night Bo had already started coughing so badly that Prosper had taken him by the hand to go and find a policeman. He had been determined to use the few bits of Italian he had learned from his mother, and to say, "Scusi, we have run away from home, but my brother is sick. Could you call my aunt so she can come and pick him up?"
    He had been desperate.
    And then Hornet had appeared.
    She had taken them to her hiding place, where they'd met Riccio and Mosca, and had given them dry clothes and something hot to eat. Then she had explained to Prosper that they could forget about stealing and being cold, as from now on Scipio, the Thief Lord, would look after them, just like he looked after Hornet and her friends.
    "The others are probably waiting for us." Hornet's voice startled Prosper out of his thoughts and for a moment he didn't know where he was. The smells of coffee and sweet pastries wafted at him from the houses.
    Their home had smelled very different.
    "I bet we'll still have to clean up," said Bo. "Scipio doesn't like it when the hideout is messy."
    "You can talk," Prosper mocked. "Who spilled the bucket full of canal water yesterday?"
    "And he always leaves out some cheese for the mice." Hornet giggled as Bo gave her a shove with his elbow. "Even though he knows the Thief Lord hates nothing more than mouse droppings. It's too bad that the wonderful hideout he's found for us is full of them -- and that it's so difficult to keep the place warm. Perhaps something less grand would have been more practical, but of course our Thief Lord won't have it any other way."
    "The Star-Palace," Bo corrected her. He ran after the other two as they turned into a less crowded alley. "Scipio says it's called the Star-Palace!"
    Hornet rolled her eyes. "Watch it," she whispered to Prosper, "soon Bo won't listen to you at all any more -- only to what Scipio tells him."
    "And what can I do about it?" Prosper replied sulkily.
    Prosper knew perfectly well that it was only thanks to Scipio that they didn't have to sleep on the street anymore, especially now when in the evenings a cold mist hung over the alleys and canals. Scipio's raids paid for their pasta and their fresh fruit. Scipio had brought the shoes that were keeping Bo's feet warm, even though they were a bit big for him. Scipio made sure they could eat without having to always steal for it. Scipio had given them a home again -- a home without Esther. But, still, Scipio was a thief.
    The alleys they walked through became narrower. It was quiet between the houses and soon they entered the hidden heart of the city, where there were hardly any strangers. Cats darted away as their footsteps rang out on the paving stones. Pigeons cooed from the roofs. The ever-present water swayed beneath the bridges, splashing against boats and wooden posts, and reflecting back the old faces of the houses. The children wandered deeper and deeper into the maze of alleys. The houses seemed to be moving in on them, watching them, as if they knew who they were.
    Their hiding place was in a building that stood out from its neighbors like a child among grown-ups -- low and flat between the taller houses. Boarded-up windows