The famed Street of Coins lay littered with covered stalls and tents, resting like a gaggle of patchwork-nobles slumbering in the warm spring air. Filled with goods of every kind and description, these lined the thoroughfare to the point where they crowded into the side-streets and alleyways; the squatting ground for the unfortunate and the also-rans.

It was near one such street that two brothers bustled to get their wares ready for the morning crowds.

"Korbo, you oaf!"

Standing up with the weight of a cloth-wrapped bundle on his wide shoulders, the taller of the two men started, his dark, kindly face filled with a puzzled stare. "Yes, brother?"

Working his lantern-jaw, Zamf thrust a finger towards the back of the stall. "Put that back there! That's the quality merchandise, and it's just for our special customers."

With an embarrassed bob of his bald, pumpkin-sized head, Korbo shuffled like a reluctant child towards the back. "Yes, brother ... please forgive me," the taller man offered softly.

Tugging on his fine embroidered vest - both sides of which barely met over his plump belly - Zamf let his hands drift down to his wide belt, drumming in an irritated rhythm. "Why I never sold you to the slavers in Thakan before now …" Zamf scowled. "Ah! Mother must have had something to do with it ..."

"Mother was always good to us," Korbo shrugged simply.

Stroking his white beard, Zamf nodded reflexively. "True. I could never refuse her, even though I cheat her every time on her taxable goods... let's get back to work!"

Before rounding the corner, Korbo asked, "Will we make enough sales to appease the Tax Master today?"

"Never you mind about that, Korbo," Zamf sneered. "We'll make enough today to let those pompous coin-sifters think we barely made enough to give them their petty tax ... while our profits will be ten times that amount!"

Turning to begin placing the rest of his merchandise on the cloth covered tables inside his stall, he lifted one bauble and scanned it with a critical eye.

"Flawed...not even worth the time it took the cutter to pick it up from the floor!" He paused and grinned. "But, why advertise negatives? One rule of a good seller: accentuate the good in every item." Chuckling he continued to place his varied collection of gems, jewelry and other knick-knacks out for display.

Korbo lumbered back into view, automatically reaching out to flop the cover flaps over the sides of the stall to let the morning air in. "Will I be able to buy my new shoes soon?" he asked hopefully.

Zamf stopped as he placed a decorative headpiece, rocking on his sandal-shod heels before replying. "Not until you pay for our stable fees, and for our travel supplies for the trip back home."

Korbo cocked his head as he tried to recall the costs. "That will be nearly twenty crescents, brother!"

A mock-look of shock on his weathered face, Zamf gasped, "Why, Korbo! That's exactly the amount of coin I know you have saved! It's very generous of you to offer to pay for our horse's needs."

Korbo blinked, scratching his head slowly. "Uh, thank you, brother ..." His words trailed off as he walked around the stall, finishing opening it up on all three sides.

Chuckling, Zamf finished placing the headpiece with a flourish of one hand. "It's no small favor," he said smugly to himself. "Especially if I want all of the profits for myself ..."

***

The day crawled reluctantly into the bakery of the mid-day sun, lingering before rambling onward into late-afternoon, where the shadows of the spires grew long over the streets. People meandered in and out of the marketplace, some if not more than a few left with their purses somewhat lighter than when they came in.

Zamf did acquire a slow trickle of paying customers. Most glanced at his wares and hurried on to escape the heat, but a few did pass money across his palms after a sparkling bauble caught their eye. He did hope for better sales, since at the current rate of exchanges it was going to take more time to build up a substantial profit for this trip.

Just then, a woman in the light-colors of the Highborn castes entered the stall, looking over some of his choicest gems and precious stones.

"Please, Za'ha-in!" he said, "I have just recently purchased some exquisite rubies from the mines of Taurma! They will look most lovely, as perhaps a pair of ear-stones for you? Or even the centerpiece of a necklace that will make your neighbors insane with jealousy, yes?"

The fatima considered his words, flirting her lashes coyly. "But I know a lady in Kirka that says all of the Elder Court is raving about emeralds! Do you have any of those in your wares, Craft master?"

Zamf brushed a hand in mock-consideration through his thick beard, his dark eyes twinkling in his sun-baked face. "Za'ha-in, if I did not have emeralds with me, I would be a poor seller indeed! As it stands, I have several, just taken from a ship in Ghesistan. If you will permit me …?"

"Yes, yes," she replied absently, waving him away a plump hand while her eyes wandered over the items on the cloth before her.

Bowing his covered head low, Zamf tottered away, rubbing his hands in anticipation of another sale …

That's when he saw her.

A girl, no older than perhaps eighteen seasons, with violet eyes in a creamy-peach face that reflected surprise and annoyance at him seeing her. Wrapped in a dusty cloak, with the hood over her head, she had cut an opening in the side of the stall with a black-handled knife.

"W-What are you doing--?!" he started to shout, cutting himself off when he happened to glance down at the display she was standing near. Three, neat depressions in the cloth-covered table were all that remained of the pride of this year's trip.

Peeking through the girl's loose fingers, a glimmer of deep, sparkling green could be seen; the very emeralds that he was going to show the fatima! “Why, you ... thief! Korbo!" he shouted. "She's stealing my gems!"

"Brother!?" Korbo's startled bellow came from the front of the stall.

"A thief?" the fatima shrieked, whirling around to protect the stones that hung around her neck.

"Thorn pricks!" the girl cursed in an alto voice. The girl recovered her initial shock, smiling as she realized her chance to flee. "Forgive my manners, but … farewell!" With a sketched bow, she backed into the back wall of the stall, angling for the slit she'd made.

"Come here, brat!" Knocking the table aside, Zamf curled his hands into snagging claws as he lunged for her, scattering stones and gems in a rainbow shower.

The girl proved too swift. She slipped out of reach and through the slash in the wall, leaving the merchant to crash to the hard ground.

Korbo finally arrived. "What is going on, brother?" he queried innocently, plucking Zamf up from the floor.

"Let go of me, you oaf!" Zamf snapped, freeing himself from Korbo's assistance with an angry shove. "A thief has stolen my emeralds!"

Korbo looked around, his bovine face frowning. "I see no thief, my brother."

Swearing under his breath, Zamf recovered his feet. "Never mind, you ox!" Storming to the slit, he stuck his head out, spying a running form in a cloak darting down the alley. "Stay here! I must get my gems back!" Without a word of apology to his startled customer, Zamf burst out into the alley.

Korbo scratched his head, then shrugged at the former customer. "Apologies, Za'ha-in. We seem to be out of emeralds today."

***

Scattering a knot of giggling children, Zamf emerged into one of the dozens of cross-streets that sprouted off of the back ways of the Street of Coins. Snarling, he jogged forward, searching for the thief. Coming around a sharp corner after several turns, Zamf emerged in the middle of one of the city's wandering walkways, meandering next to one of the three branches of the Isa River. Here, people of all castes walked, talked, or rested as they saw fit, under the cooling canopy of the llasa trees.

But for Zamf, rest was the furthest thing from his mind. "May the Maker curse her feet and wither her fingers," he puffed under his breath. Shoving people aside, he stomped down the street amid cries of "Infidel!" and "Watch where you put your hands, fool!"

"If I ever catch her, she will know the torment of a demon's curse!" He whirled around, looking back then forward again. "She must be here! I just know it!"

A glance left, then right… and by sheer luck, there she was! Her dusty cloak sticking out like dung on the sand, the thief briskly walked along with the sparse crowd of mixed middle and low castes.

Striding forward, he cautiously wove through the press, before getting close enough to hear the girl chuckling softly. Reaching out angrily, he clamped one brown hand on her shoulder to spin her towards him.

"Here, what are you--" she snapped, just before those violet eyes took in his enraged features with wide surprise.

"I'll have my emeralds back, you dog! Then you can come with me to the Constabulary!" he snarled, confident in that he had won.

Instead, Zamf got a surprise of his own as a sneer curled her lips. "No one calls me 'dog'!" she growled.

Zamf felt a ribbon of fire flash along his cheek. She leaped out of his grasp, her cloak parting to reveal her holding the knife he had seen before in her hand. Only now another dagger clenched in the fingers of her other hand joined it, glittering in the light of day with a red wetness.

Zamf's hand shot to his face, coming away with strands of loose whiskers, covered in blood.

"No one may lay hands on me, save my father or future husband," the girl added, a triumphant smile lighting her face. "And you're neither! Touch me again, and I'll be very ... discourteous."

Zamf swelled with rage. "I'll hang you by your heels on the walls for your insults, brat!"

The girl motioned towards herself with one blade. "You can try!"

He bellowed, surging forward to encircle her with both arms, only to grab empty air as she ducked, slipping between his legs. As she did, the steel in her left hand flashed, leaving a clean cut in the sleeve of his tunic.

"Ah! Curse you!" he snarled, whirling around.

With a bark of laughter she teased, "What's wrong? Can it be a big bag of wind like yourself cannot handle a little thing like me?"

Zamf pulled the dirk hidden in his vest. "The priests of the Morning Star will find the future in your guts!"

Charging in with his blade out to stab, his angry shout changed to a shriek when she snared his weapon with her own, twirling it out of his hand as she swiped a booted foot under his own flapping feet. As he fell to the stones, she expertly vaulted onto his broad back, using her momentum to vault into the air. He barely hand time to gasp in the dust, looking up to watch as she landed on top of a passing cart.

"Bold words," she laughed, looking down from her perch as the cart rumbled on. "And they might come true… if you can ever catch me, you fat toad!" The cart made a turn into a larger street, vanishing from sight.

Blinking, Zamf recovered his scattered wits, his feet and his dagger where it lay on the street before bolting after his quarry. Muttering under his breath, he was so intent in his pursuit that he didn't see the slow-strolling form of one of the city's constables about to cross his path. They collided with each other in a mad pinwheel of limbs. Zamf nearly fell again, but the quick reflexes of the law-keeper kept him on his feet.

"Hold, now!" the blue-garbed officer scowled, a firm hand latched onto Zamf's collar as he separated them. "What are you about?"

At first, Zamf's anger over losing the girl kept him from recognizing the constable. "Unhand me, idiot! I have to catch her, or I'll have every man in the Constabulary down on your head!"

"I am a Constable, sir."

Pulling back, Zamf turned and eyed the officer, quickly making a short bow of apology. "Forgive me! I... I didn't mean to be rude!" With a glance down the street, he quickly added. "In fact, it may be the luck of the Prophet that I ran into you! I was robbed, just a few moments ago!”

“Robbed?”

“Yes! I was trying to capture the thief myself!"

"A thief?" the constable repeated, if somewhat skeptically. "What did they take?"

"Three of my best emeralds! The wench ... she took them, and then she cut me and ran off!" He pointed to the still-bleeding cut on his cheek for proof.

The constable frowned. "What did this thief look like?"

"Well, she was young," Zamf explained, "not older than a stripling! She had violet eyes, a-and she wore a dirty, brown cloak."

"Many people could match that, sir." the constable sighed with a dismissive gesture. "Go to the Tower of Justice, sir. You can tell them your words, and they will know what to do."

Zamf gripped the officer by his leather vest. "Constable, wait! Just wait! Err …" He sized the man up for a second, torn between wanting to pursue the girl and winning this man's help. "Listen, please … I cannot lose my emeralds! They are promised to a lady of very, very high station … and she promised me a payment of a large sum of money -- gold crescents, mind you!"

The constable's eyes widened. "She must be very rich indeed!"

"Exactly! My reputation is at stake, my good constable… erm?"

The officer jerked himself upright, making a gesture of introduction. "Tavan. Constable Tavan."

Grinning, Zamf replied, "Ah, yes! Constable Tavan … I beg of you. Help me to recover my gems, and put that deplorable thief in a prison cell where she belongs. Do this for me, and I swear by the Prophets that I will share a portion of the gem's selling price with you."

Tavan frowned for a moment. "It is unacceptable for a city enforcer to accept a bribe!"

"Bribe!? What bribe?" Zamf leaned in close to whisper. "I am offering a reward to you, good sir! Eh? A reward for bringing another criminal to justice!"

Tavan thought this over, rubbing his chin with one large hand. Finally, he nodded in agreement. "Very well. I shall help you to recover your gems." Looking around, he asked. "Which way did she go?"

Zamf clapped him on the back. "Just around this corner! She got on top of a cart… if we hurry, we can still get her and my gems back!"

***

Later, as the evening shadows grew longer, Zamf’s words had not proven so quick to come true ...

He and Constable Tavan peered over the heads of the few people around them. They had found the cart in the Antiquities section of the city, but no sign of the girl. So foiled, they investigated this less-populated part of the city, where the dwellings housed shops marked by iron gates on the windows and doors. Most of the occupants sold personal treasures of ancient standing. A few dealt in more shadowy affairs.

"It is a possibility that your thief will come here," Tavan explained, as he guided his charge around a few seedy figures. "Anything of value can be sold to the storekeepers here, since many do not ask where things come from. If she has not left Durastan, we will have the best chance of catching her."

Wringing his hands, Zamf was close to pulling his beard in frustration. "We had better find her, constable! Those gems will finance my next three yearly trips, if the lady is still interested in them!”

Just then, the dark-skinned constable stopped their march, staring at the entrance to a shop with an arcane symbol on its sign. "You said the thief wore a dark cloak? And that she had violet eyes?"

"Yes, I did! Why do--?"

"Look there!" Tavan singled out a slim figure in a dark brown cloak, standing in front of the shop window.

The figure studied the interior of the shop for a moment, then stepped towards the door, looking at the sign with a timid air. When they did, they revealed their face; tan, with violet eyes, peeking out from the hood.

"Yes! That's her!" Zamf hissed. He started to charge forward, but Tavan jerked him to a halt by the sash of his tunic.

"No! We do not want to make a scene in the street! We shall corner her inside, before she can make a sale of your goods."

So the two men watched as the girl finally entered the shop, her voice lifting in greeting to the short man behind the counter. They exchanged a few words before she turned to look at some old books, stacked on a shelf just inside.

Zamf turned to the turbaned officer with a worried look. "Will we be able to charge her, without interference?"

"No one goes against the order of a city enforcer," the law-enforcer assured him. "Come. We'll confront her now."

Stepping inside the shop, Zamf mentally made a holy sign for himself, after seeing what wares were for sale on the tables and shelves. Jars of ingredients, potions and compounds, charms of various metals and materials sat there on display. Bowls, pots, and containers of every shape, size and style. Books and scrolls bound with seals of wax, leather and metal bands. Sickening sweet smells from various burning braziers and incense sticks filled the air.

Standing to one side, the girl was examining an iron pendant, seemingly unaware that her pursuer had finally caught up with her. With a raised eyebrow, she asked the shopkeeper, "Do you have any of these in silver?"

"Am afraid not, missus," the mousy man replied, his eyes darting nervously to where the two men were standing. "I only have them's in common metals today. `Praps will have some when my son returns from Kalalmar."

The girl weighed his admission, then she freed a mane of flaxen hair from the confines of her hood. "When will that be?"

The shopkeeper tapped a bony finger on his chin, wiggling his hooked nose from side to side while seeing the black look on Zamf's face. "Ah, ih-in two of seven-days, m-missus."

"Well, I cannot wait." She laid the talisman on the counter, bringing out a small pouch from underneath her cloak. "I shall have to make do with this one then." She fumbled with the ties to open it, just as Zamp slapped a hand on her shoulder, roughly shaking her.

"So! You thought you were free to spend my goods, brat?" Zamf said, even though his skin crawled to touch her. "You'll not make one tin-crescent from them!"

The shopkeeper started to stammer, "P-Please, I pray you! N-N-No quarrels in mine shop!"

Swallowing a shriek, the girl tried to pull away from the merchant. "Take your hand from me at once, sir! What right--?"

"I have the right of the Law, thief! Do not dare to deny it!" Zamf growled. "Give me my emeralds!"

With wide eyes, she did wrench out of his grip, clutched her purse to her breast as she backed away. "What emeralds? I only carry quartz with me! Officer! This man is mad!" she cried, seeing Tavan behind Zamf.

"I am afraid I must ask for your cooperation, girl," the officer intoned. "This merchant has a claim that you stole his emeralds from his stall on the Street of Coins, just within the last full turning. Can you disprove his claim?" He fixed her with a questioning eye.

She slowly shook her head. "I-I was on the market street … earlier in the day, yes! B-But I--!"

"You see!? She admits it!" Zamf cut her off sharply.

"B-But I have no emeralds! I-I only came here t-to get a talisman to help m-my tribe!" she insisted.

Tavan said firmly, "I am sorry, girl, but you must come with us. A Judicator will decide your innocence before the books of Law."

"Bah! The law can have her," Zamf shouted, his hand roughly pawing for her pouch. "I want my gems!"

The girl went white in the cheeks, but instead of screaming for help she said three words: "An dumak 'sodeth!"

A strange prickling sensation raced along Zamf's arm. Glancing down, his eyes bulged from their sockets. Hundreds of red ants, armed with huge mandibles, swarmed over his arms. With a fearful howl, he danced back: waving and slapping his arm to dislodge the deadly, stinging creatures.

This left the girl to dash behind one of the display shelves, as Tavan drew his short sword with a curse. "Witchery!" Circling around the stricken merchant, he made to corner the girl against the counter.

The shopkeeper threw up his hands. "N-No! No fighting, please!"

The girl made a shielding gesture with her staff as Tavan came on. "Please! Do not do this! I-I am not in the wrong!"

"That is for the Judicator to decide!"

Reaching behind her, the girl fumbled for something and ended up with her fingers in a small bowl filled with powder. After a quick look, she scooped up a handful of the substance, flinging it into the constable's face.

Sputtering and blinking, Tavan reached up to wipe it away, but in a heartbeat his face fell slack and his eyes grew lifeless. A moment later, he toppled forward, stiff as stonework.

By then, Zamf thought he had extinguished the insect swarm, and was turning from examining his arm for stings when he saw the girl standing there, and his compatriot on the floor. "You, you … witch! A thief and a witch!"

The girl stammered, "I am neither! I only know a-a little magic!"

Zamf's stomach rolled. His brain screamed at him, claiming madness to go against a witch. However, the thought of losing his gems shoved his uneasiness aside. "Liar! I'll burn the truth out of you!"

He snatched up a torch from the wall, but when he turned back the girl had darted for the door. She burst through, slamming the door wildly on its hinges as she ran out into the street. Zamf followed behind her, smashing the door aside and nearly overturning a cart being pushed by a old man, as he pursued her.

"Stop, you daughter of rats!" he roared, his voice startling several people along the sides of the street.

Eventually, she came up against a larger cart and horse - crossing one of the junction streets - which blocked her escape. Turning quickly, she nearly bolted in three directions at once, before she realized that Zamf was nearly upon her like a curse.

With a determined, yet fear-filled look, she thrust her staff out to hold him at bay. "S-Stay back! I do not w-wish to hurt you!"

Skidding to a stop, Zamf answered by stabbing his torch towards her. "You're going to wish you never took those gems, girl… I promise you that! Your hands will be gone, and your tongue will be torn from your witch-lips, before this day is gone!"

The girl replied with a quavering tone, "The o-only thing t-that will be gone t-this eve, is me!" Weaving her free hand in a delicate, intricate pattern, she chanted: "Ch'tana am Isodeth… Kira-des Manates!"

As the last word fell from her lips, the girl seemed to grow several measures of height before Zamf's startled eyes…

Only to violently shrink to the size of a cat… a mouse… a fly. Then, she grew so small she vanished completely.

Amid murmurs of other people that had seen this amazing display, Zamf continued to stare at the place where the girl had been standing. When he realized that no more magic was about, he breathed harshly, "Protect my immortal soul… from this foul display." Sighing, he commented, "It is good that she didn't try anything… permanent!"

Suddenly, he remembered! Tavan, the Constable! Turning with a flurry of limbs, he hurried back to the shop.

At the entrance, he paused. A groan from inside got his attention, so he peered inside the open doorway. There, he could see the shopkeeper kneeling next to the Constable, passing the open end of a bottle under the law-man's round nose.

"Maker-of-Us-All! What are you doing to him!?" he asked darkly. Fearful still, he nonetheless stepped inside the shop, glaring at the shopkeeper.

"Am certain he will be fine," the mouse-faced shopkeeper squeaked, backing away slightly. "Dust of Forced-Sleeping is very effective! But, when a dose of spirits applied, a body quickly regains motion," he explained, showing the bottle to Zamf. When the officer groaned again, starting to sit upright, the shopkeeper, moved to help him rise, patting the officer on the shoulder, he added, "Am certain former customer meant no harm, Sir."

Rubbing his eyes while sneezing mightily, Tavan said at length, "To be certain... I am all right." With a wave, he said to the shopkeeper, "We must be going, sir. Forgive the disruption of your day." He motioned to Zamf, indicating that he should follow him out. Zamf did so gladly, giving the owner and his shop a sickened look as he closed the door behind them.

Staggering outside, Tavan breathed deeply to clear his head. "By the Prophets!"

"Are you certain you are well, constable? Zamf asked; concerned, and a touch less-fearful now.

"I am, and you have a greater problem than you first knew," Tavan replied. "Not only is your thief dangerous, it will take some doing to bring her to justice!" He frowned mightily. "A thief I can capture with ease, but not one that knows witchery as well!"

***

As the sun slipped closer to the horizon, deepening the shadows over the city, the air filled with the spicy smells of cooking food, hot drink, and fragrant smoke from several pipes and hookahs. Now was the time to finish the last business of the day, before turning towards home and a hot meal

Zamf and Tavan were just entering Durastan's main square. After trudging over half the city, Zamf felt he would never be able to recover his lost gems. After all, even if they found that thief, what could be done against one who wielded magic as well as knives?

Tavan tried to reassure him. "Even with her magic, she will not escape justice. I will report this to the Chief Judicator if we are unable to find her soon. He will decide what course of action to take."

Zamf replied, "I have every faith in the Law… but, the loss of those gems can never be recovered! Even if I was to find ten-times their number on my next trip!"

"Even so, sir," Tavan replied, "what more can we do?"

"Keep searching! I'll add another fifty crescents to your share if you continue looking with me."

The constable sighed, staring darkly at Zamf. "Very well. But not for much longer. I still must return to the tower before I can retire for the night."

They walked along, until a press of people blocked their way.

"What's this!?" Zamf grumbled. "You'd think people would have better sense not to block city streets!"

Tavan spied a few of his fellow constables in the crowd. Leaving the merchant for a moment, he walked over to where the three turbaned officials were standing. "What is going on here?" he asked.

"A weapon's seller was stopped by a girl," the man explained. "She wished to purchase a sword, and is trying several of the seller's wares. She seems very skilled in the ways of steel!"

Something prickled the hair on the back of Zamf's neck. "A … A girl!?"

Tavan caught the inflection in Zamf's voice. "It couldn't be… but, the Word says, 'To be certain is to be open to all that could be possible.'" He quickly filled his fellows in briefly on what had happened with Zamf and the unusual thief.

"Violet eyes, Tavan?" one of the other turbaned officials asked. "With wheat-colored hair?"

"Just so, Rabam."

"That girl testing steel has similar features, or so I think … I've not had a chance to look at her fully, with all these people in the way."

Tavan nodded. "Go and gather all of our men currently inside the square," he ordered, "and bring them to the front of the crowd. But do it silently! If this is our thief, I do not want her to get away again!"

Zamf, listening from the constable's elbow, nervously asked, "W-What if she uses her witchery again?!"

Tavan's eyes hardened when he faced the slippery merchant. "We will not give her that chance. Stay well back. If I need you to come forth to confront her, I will call for you. Understand?"

Even though he wished for justice, Zamf wasn't keen on facing the witch-thief again. "As you say, my friend."

Soon, Rabam returned. "We have a score of men, ready to act on your orders."

"Good. Move in, but be careful! This girl will use magic, if pressed hard enough."

Leaving Zamf behind, the constables shifted forward, elbowing people aside to get to the front. A few muttered complaints at them, but no one raised a great fuss, since all eyes were on the display before them. Eventually, the constables emerged in the clear, all looking on the sight before them.

The girl from the oddity shop stood next to a cart and ass, the owner of which looked on with approval as she hefted two swords of varying length and weight. She had her flax-colored hair tied in a braid this time, and was no longer cloaked, revealing the sleeve-less, thick leather vest over cotton pants. Sliding her booted feet over the stones, she twirled one blade, then the other, before handing the shorter of the two back to the weapon seller.

"I like the feet of this one," she said, shifting the double-edged blade to an overhead guard. Smoothly, she changed to a parry-and-swipe that spun her around, bringing the point to stab into an imaginary foe. "Good balance."

"A finer sword in Damar steel you will never find, Miss Keta," the seller prompted. "A worthy addition to a warrior so skilled as yourself."

Grinning, Keta's eyes glimmered as she eyed the blade closely. "How much, sir?"

"For you, I will part with it for one-hundred crescents," he offered.

"Sold."

Clearing his throat, Tavan stepped forward to address the seller. "This sale is invalid."

The man in weathered homespun goggled at the enforcer. "W-What!?"

Tavan waved him into silence as he spoke to the girl. "I must ask you to come with me, now! You have much to answer for."

She didn't turn around, but she spoke to the officer. "And, why is that so? You have no right to cancel this sale … my money is as good as the next person's."

"Not when it is stolen goods, girl. Now come with me so the Judicator can judge your crime."

Keta turned then, her eyes sizing up not just the constable, but the half ring of his fellows around the edge of the crowd. A subtle shift eased into her stance, like a cat sensing a twittering bird. "My crime?"

"Do not play games, girl! You attacked a merchant in the Street of Coins today, stole his wares," he explained in a sharp voice. "Do not make things worse than what they are!"

“I have not been to the market street today, Constable,” Keta replied in an icy tone. “I was with my father, and I’ve been here all day while he gathered supplies from the storehouses in Kiba Street.”

Tavan nearly reached his limit on patience. "We have witness to the crime, and to your later assault on myself and the merchant when you visited a shop of magic, later this day. You stand justly accused. So, one last time! You are to come, with, me!"

With defiance in her eyes, the girl slowly lowered her hands until the sword point rested on the ground, point-first. "I will not!"

With a wave, Tavan motioned for his fellows to take her. Two of the seven stepped briskly, arms out to grab.

Only Keta wasn't there. She ducked down into a crouch, swinging out in sweep that knocked the constable from his feet. At the end of her follow-through, she kicked up with both feet, catching the other two men under their chins.

"Maker, beware!" one of the other constables shouted, just as a cry went up from the crowd. "She fights like a striker!"

Launching herself back to her feet, Keta whipped the sword up into an overhead guard. "As the Wise once said, 'Beware the woman scorned; her sting most of all,'" she grinned. Turning, she punched another constable in the face, lifting her knee into his belly for a follow-up before polishing him off with a fair clout to his backside.

In the crowd, which was now starting to exhort the fighters on with cheers and jeers, Zamf nearly tore out his beard in frustration. "How can justice be served on such a creature!? She defies all logic!"

Keta dazzled both onlooker and combatant alike as she repeatedly knocked her attackers aside. For every man that fell, another came at her, given the fallen time to pick themselves up. They kept coming, trying to disarm her and take her down, and at one time or another they managed to get a blow in for themselves. This didn't faze Keta, who kept giving back as good as she got. None of the city's defenders were going to walk away without some memento of this fight.

In the middle of it all, a tall man in leathers similar to the girl's strode through the press, coming to the edge to gawk, open-mouthed, at the spectacle in front of his eyes. His ruddy, sand-marked face quickly filled with anger, the promontory of a nose poking through a bushy amber-tinted beard flushing crimson in an instant!

"By My Maker, Keta?! What are you doing!?" the man bellowed.

The crowds fell instantly silent, and the fight ground to a halt, just as three of the constables were about to press an advantage over the girl, now standing with her back against the low wall of a fountain. Tavan and his men stumbled back as the man rolled up to the fountain, helping Keta to her feet.

"That was justly timed, Father," she muttered, breathing heavily. "Though I had things well in hand."

"Perhaps,” the barbarian growled, “but I told you never to pick fights-!"

At that, Keta bristled. "I did no such thing! I was trying to buy a new sword, when they tried to arrest me!" She stabbed a finger at the enforcers. "They said I'd stolen something from that man!"

"Oh, did they now!" He turned to the constables, fairly bristling with rage. "Why are you charging her with such slander, sirs?!"

Tavan stood before the man, rubbed the side of his face where the darker skin outlined where Keta landed a blow. "Are you truly this girl's father?"

"Aye! I am Ahgnot of Antarus," the bearish man replied. "Explain yourselves."

"This girl stands accused of stealing from a gem merchant on the Street of Coins. We have been searching for her to bring her to the Tower."

Ahgnot's dark eyes narrowed. "Do you have a witness to this crime?"

"Yes! I am that witness!" Zamf shuffled forward, nervous to be so near a man such as Ahgnot, who looked strong enough to break a cart axle with his bare hands. "I saw her take my gems from my stall this afternoon!"

The man squinted in the late sun at the merchant, just before a smile split his face. Raucous laughter rolled from his lips, shaking his large frame. "Now, that is amusing!"

Zamf bristled. "You laugh at my misfortune!?"

"I laugh at your bearing false witness, you toad!" Ahgnot motioned towards Keta. "We both first entered Durastan this morning, before going to the city storehouses. I left her here in the square with our animals.” Pointing with one paw of a hand, he indicated a pair of burden-beasts attached to an outlander-style cart. "She was to remain here until I concluded my business with another merchant. Be certain, Constable, that she always obeys my commands.” He faced Zamf again. "It is unthinkable that she could have been robbing you, when she has been here all this time!"

Zamf looked around, unable to hide his rage. "This is absurd! I saw what I saw!"

Tavan wasn't listening to Zamf now. Raising his voice, he addressed the crowd, "Can anyone vouch for this girl and her father's word?"

A few people came forward to bear witness, among them a person of the high castes, and even the weapon seller as well. "The young miss had been resting when I first entered the square at midday," he explained.

Tavan turned to glower at Zamf, who now was wringing his beard with both hands. "It is one thing to steal in Durastan," the officer muttered, "but it is quite another to bear false accusation against an innocent!"

Zamf was at his wit's end, sputtering and posturing. "B-But, she's not! I swear to you! She is the one who stole my emeralds!"

The constable refused to hear him any more. With a snap of his fingers, his fellows surrounded Zamf. "All the swearing will matter not, once you are before the Judicator! Seize him!" Hands stabbed out to take the merchant by his arms and tunic. "Bring him along to the Tower! We'll soon find out just what his game is!"

Zamf struggled against his captors, unwilling to accept what was happening to him. "No! I did not do anything wrong!" He managed to lever himself closer to Tavan, whispering frantically. "What about my reward!?"

Tavan's face grew dark as a thunderhead. "You cannot reward what you cannot offer ... Take him away!"

Zamf started to blubber as his captors started to drag him backwards through the crowd. "W-Wait! I'll double it! Even triple!! What about my stall!?"

"The law will see that it is taken care of," Tavan snarled, glad that he no longer had the company of such a fool. Turning back to Ahgnot, he made a short bow. "Forgive us, and accept my apology, please. We did not mean to cause any trouble for you."

Both father and daughter nodded. "I accept your apology," Keta said icily, "though I wish there had been a better way to test the sword I wanted to acquire."

The constable nodded, grinning slightly. "For what it was worth, Miss, it was an honor to see such fine skills on display. Enjoy the rest of your say in Durastan." With another bow, he turned and marched off through the crowd.

# # #

As the sun began vanishing from the sky behind the far mountains, father and daughter finished getting ready to leave Durastan. The exodus of people leaving for the night surged through the many city gates, before they closed to keep out the night creatures and minions. After which, they were unable to open until the sun touched Durastan's towers once more.

Keta opted to ride in the back of her father's wagon while he drove. Her hands resting on her new sword proudly as they started off before the evening turned to dusk. Already, most of the streets were emptying, as the shops and merchants were closing up and packing wares away, until tomorrow when the whole affair renewed itself again.

Passing the entrance to the Street of Coins, Keta happened to glance left, just in time to see a brute of a man face three of the constables. His sloe-eyed face turned from one official to another as he tried to make sense of their harangue.

Keta chuckled to herself as she watched the display, which quickly vanished as the wagon rumbled along down the city streets.

From his seat in front, Ahgnot rumbled, "Trouble just seems to follow you around, daughter-mine."

Keta snorted, fingering the hilt of her sword irritably, leaning back into the lee of the wagon's cover to stay out of the sun. Recognizing one of her moods, Ahgnot laughed to himself and returned to driving.

Eventually, the wagon approached the west gate of Durastan, where the guards stood a vigil among shaded towers. Here and there, a turbaned head peeked out, watching the general hubbub of cursing and shouting between the people and the gatekeepers as they tried to maintain some form or order to the nightly exodus.

As the two outlanders passed under the white-stone arch of the gateway, Keta spied a quick, darting figure in a dark-colored cloak inside the press of people behind the four-wheeled wagon. Clearing the press, the figure made a leap into the box, where it stumbled, falling on its knees before her.

"A sloppy landing ... little sister," Keta mumbled.

The figure removed its hood, revealing a mirror-image face, except with close-cropped mop of wheat-colored bangs over violet eyes. "I'm just tired, Keta!"

"Tired from dodging the constabulary again ... it's a wonder you don't get caught sometimes!"

"Hah! They'll need to be quick in their skulls' first! Besides, I never get tired of the antics of those fops."

Keta flash a half-amused, half-irritated grin at her sister. "So, you did cross the Law today! Kaja, one of these days--!"

"Thorn pricks! Don't start that again," snapped Kaja, folding her legs underneath herself as she leaned against the side of the box. "I keep telling you, I know what I'm doing!"

"But you never think of the consequences when you go on your little 'ventures," Keta admonished. "One of the constables accused me of your mischief! And if father hadn't been there to vouch for me, I'd be the one spending a night in the Tower of Justice instead of you!"

"Or I would have been the one!" a soft, seemingly disembodied voice called out, coming from somewhere behind the two sisters.

Kaja glanced around fearfully. "Kira?"

A thump of booted feet on the wagon bed preceded the reply. "Aye! I-I am here." A shimmering in the air hung before the two sisters, before dissolving into the tired form of another girl, dressed in a cloak similar to Kaja’s. She quickly collapsed on the floor of the wagon, her hood slipping from her head to puddle around her shoulders.

"Kira?!" Keta said in alarm. Coming to her feet, she helped her twin gently into the shade of the covering overhead. "Splinters and Sparks! How long have you been invisible?"

"N-Nearly a-all evening," Kira whimpered. "A man accused me of stealing his emeralds, and I had to use a spell to hide myself!"

Keta growled at Kaja, who threw up her hands to ward her off. "It's not my fault!” Kaja huffed. “How was I to know they'd come after our meek sister?!"

Lowering Kira to sit down, Keta snapped, "She isn't used to such excitement, Kaja! This is exactly what I mean when I say you never think what can happen to us all when you go off robbing people!"

Kira blinked. "Robbing?" She shot Kaja a sour look. "So it was you that stole that merchant's emeralds!"

"I only thought they would make fine naming day gifts for us all."

"I don't care why you got them, Kaja," Keta said. "It's a wonder the constabulary didn't banish us all from Durastan! You know how important these trips are for the entire clan, or do you?!"

Kaja bowed her head, nodding ashamedly. "I know."

Kira waves a slim hand at her elder sister. "Our sister has forever been too addicted to bright baubles. It's a part of her being, as a leaf is a part of a tree. To remove the tree means certain death for the leaf. Don't be too harsh with her, Keta."

Keta gazed fondly at Kira, shaking her head. "You are much too soft, Kira." Looking back at a now-mollified Kaja, she asked, "Where are the emeralds now?"

Kaja fished a small wrapped bundle from inside her tunic, passing it over to her twins. "Here. I never got the chance to take them to a metal smith for mounting."

Keta slowly unraveled the cloth, letting three, perfect oblongs of glittering green spill into her hand. "Very pretty. But we cannot keep these, Kaja."

"Sure we can!" Kaja said, a bit of her fire returning as she glanced at her eldest twin with indignation. "We're outside Durastan now, and no one is the wiser for knowing where those stones are!"

"It is not right, Kaja," Kira replied, smoothing some of her flaxen locks behind her ear. "Those stones must go back to their rightful owner."

Kaja glared stubbornly. "If you think I'm going back into Duristan to return them--!?"

Keta scowled, “You most certainly can't go back! We'd never trust you do it right the first time!"

Kira turned to Keta. "Give them to me."

"What are you going to do?" Keta asked, thinking vaguely what her spell-casting twin had in mind.

"Yes what do…oh, no! You can't! Not after all we went through--?!" Kaja suddenly caught on to what was about to happen...

***

Falling to his knees amid a pile of dirt-laden straw, Zamf hit the far wall of the tiny cell, crying out in indignation. "This...is insufferable!" Whirling around to face the grim faced guard who had tossed him in, he scowled. "I … am … innocent! That damn thief stole my merchandise!"

Snorting, the burly man pulled the cell door closed before ambling away.

Zamf growled before flinging himself towards the door, beating on it with both fists. "Damn your eyes and curse you to the ends of Time! I demand justice! I demand my rights!" he screamed, listening as his cries echoed down the long hall of the Judicator's dungeon.

No reply came back.

Zamf let out a groan before turning back to face the inside of the cell. "By the Prophets ... six seven-days in this cursed place! My stall ... my wares ... my brother! Alone … without me to guide him, he'll have to run my shop." He felt his knees turn to water, forcing him to drop to the floor like a wet sack. "I'll be ruined!" With a moan of despair, he slapped one hand to his face. "What in the name of all that is Holy can happen to me now!?"

Letting his hand drop, Zamf felt a tingly feeling against its skin.

"Wh-what-?" Staring with wide eyes, the merchant turned his hand over, just in time to catch three perfect emeralds, as they seemed to fall out of thin air into his meaty palm.

The End

I'd like to make a comment about this article.

This page has been visited Hit Counter times.

<a href='/phpAdsNew-rc3/adclick.php?n=a52fa7aa' target='_blank'><img src='/phpAdsNew-rc3/adview.php?what=zone:2&amp;n=a52fa7aa' border='0' alt=''></a>

Troika

Copyright © 2004 Stephen Sobotka