Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! :D I know I have not posted in awhile, but I've been working on my other fic, along with managing a packed summer! Never fear- I could never leave George- Kyprioth would drop crow feces on me if I did- although my progress is slow... for now. Thanks to peppymint, danishgirl, Mythirl Maiden, mistmagic, Dragonfly257, Shang Leopard, Mirukarumi, KrisEleven, Alannalover, Rowena of Naxen, Sandy, goaligirl12, and Mickeygee! And my beta, KyrieofAccender, as always, amazing person that you are. :)

Chapter 3

Excuses

"Right now, then." Hands in my breeches' pockets, I turned to Cuds and Whooper with no small degree of swagger- all of us senior mags had it, from Lew, who meandered about with a confidence we all tried- and failed- to imitate. "What's our pheasant, boys?" Whooper glanced around, scratching the back of his head, and shrugged, blond curls in his eyes. Cuds had a little more initiative. He pointed to the breadman at the corner.

"Somebody outta knock inta tha' there and anutter body'll snatch ups the coin," he suggested, looking back at me. I wanted to roll my eyes at the pudding head, but my ma had taught me to treat folks better. Instead I shook my head.

"Nah, a'cos he won't have much in that box he's got in plain sight," I explained. "That isn't where he keeps the most of his money. For us, it's too much risk, not enough profit." Cuds tilted his head sideways, brow furrowed.

"Wha' risk? Ain't no trouble abouts-" This time, I cuffed him on the shoulder, and he yelped, more in surprise than anything else. "Wha' was that for-"

"The man has two guards," I muttered, jerking my head to either side of the stand- around ten feet away stood two hefty men. "Better to rob his customers while they're in line, boys." Whooper frowned, still scratching his head.

"Bu' then they'll catch on right quick to that they don't have coppers, and you said he got guards-" I suppressed a sigh; where had Lew picked these two up? They'd been flying with the mags for a month- surely they had learned a few things since then?

"Yea, but go from the left, and we'll never be caught by the bloke on tha' side," I told them, then explained before they could go asking questions again. "He ain't watching his payer's baskets- he's watching the ladies across the street."

"Those ones?" Cuds asked loudly, pointing to several women loitering under an overhang of the building. I smacked his head.

"Louse-ridden earwag," I hissed, grabbing him right hard this time. "What have I said 'bout pointing, eh?" Cuds yowled, and I let out a low growl of frustration as several people turned towards us, with looks of suspicion in their eyes. "Fergit it," I muttered, releasing my bumbling mate. "Maybe tomorrow then, lads. The cat's out the bag here, and I've got to pick healing salve up for my ma now." Whooper's jaw dropped open.

"But- but Lew won't let us sit and talk tonight-"

"You shodda thought of that before you started causing a fuss," I grumbled, turning back towards Raymond Square. Cuds was not finished yet.

"But you can't go either, if we don't-" I snorted, whirling back around to face them.

"Each lad for hisself," I retorted. "Just a'cos you fledges need help with a simple snatch don't mean I can't bring back my part later." Whooper bit his lip, taking the verbal beating, but Cuds scowled; he was a year younger than me, but we were about the same size.

"Big and mighty, ain'tcha?" he sneered. "Acting like Lew's right-hand because you're a healer's boy, all rich and cheating folks outta-" He did not finished, because I punched him in the stomach. Whooper's eyes widened with alarm, and he stepped back.

"My ma don't cheat anybody," I snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Don't you forget that… and I'm no fledge, like you. I can nick it all, so don't you go looking down your nose at me when you can't snatch a copper out of a blind widow's tin." He punched me back, but I grabbed his other shoulder and thrust him into a nearby stall before I walked away, leaving Whooper to help Cuds up and flee the furious vendor, my hands slipping into pockets and purses as I went.

There were a hundred excuses I made up for practicing picking pockets with Marek and sometimes with Lew. Sometimes, my reasons even made sense. And I had a whole lot of them on hand whenever I looked up at Ma and inwardly heard her lectures on thieving.

But the one argument that actually had any sway over me was the only one that was absolutely inexcusable: I loved it. Marek was right, when he said everything else paled in comparison; if I had been looking for a challenge, I had found it. The sense of pride, the danger- the blood rush kept everything sharp and vivid in my sight, and any idle boredom I had ever suffered through left me for good….

If I kept stealing. If I stayed in the business. If I dared risk my hide. If Ma caught me, I knew I'd be whupped, and that troubled me, at times… but leaving the rest of the boys who worked for Lew would be hard enough if I wanted to.

I didn't need much, and I gave it all to Lew, truth be told; he thought I was an odd bird, but no foist could complain about a little extra coin on the side.

Days turned into weeks, and I still hadn't puzzled out our foist; he looked after us, saved us from the cages and branding if he could, but- if a body was well and caught- he never looked back. There were two who disappeared during my term as a magpie; I snitched anything Lew wanted. Not that none of us didn't, but when we gathered for our rounds, Lew would wander the market with me and Marek mostly, and I was the one who fetched.

"Good," he would say, every time I succeeded. Then, after glancing over to where Marek was working, he would jerk his head at another fat noble ripe for picking. And off I went again; it soon was pretty clear that our foist gave me the challenges- I risked more and more as the weeks went on, picking from armed guards and even a mage or two. That was asking for trouble.

But Lew had never landed me any mess I couldn't get myself out of; somehow, to my astonishment, I succeeded, time and time again….

And Ma never caught me; as more and more patients came to her, she let me out later and later with Marek, and I even sneaked out of Lariah's house once or twice!

I was crazy, I told myself, to think it would last.

But it did. And, fool as I was, I couldn't help but keep at it, holding my breath as I waited to see how far and long my luck would hold.

There were about ten of us, reporting to Lew; there wasn't one of us who didn't worship him. He was our hero, the loner who survived on his wits and blades in the Lower City. He could been downright frightening when a lad held out on him, and fecklessly reckless as he pushed his talents to the edge, watching with glee as we gasped, wide-eyed, at his fearless stunts.

He stole little trinkets from the jeweler's market, the most heavily guarded place in the city. He snitched tiny daggers from the Armory. He slipped his mitts into the purses of guardsmen and stole them blind.

It was almost dusk one day in late spring when Lew told Marek and me that our rounds were over.

"Hold the coins 'til the morrow," he told us, surveying our surroundings. "Scat." As I turned to follow Marek, Lew put his hand on my shoulder. "Cooper, stay." With a suspicious glower at me, Marek glanced up at the foist before disappearing into the crowd.

"Ma's gonna be looking," I told him, reaching up to touch the crow charm around my neck. Lew's eyes landed on the trinket, then narrowed.

"That what I think it is?" he asked, disapproval hardening his features. I shrugged uncomfortably, holding the tiny crow up for his inspection. He took it delicately in his fingertips, staring hard at it. A reddish glow alit his hands for a second, then died. "There. That'll fix any tracer charm for you." As he straightened, I eyed him closely; I had not known he had the Gift. He saw me looking, then grinned. "I can't have your ma looking for you right now," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously.

"Why?" I asked, curiosity piqued. He winked, the image of mischief.

"You'll see," he retorted, tugging me along through the crowds. "I knew back when you landed yourself in your first hard place that you'd be the one I'd pick for this, but I had to make sure, y'know?" I couldn't help the grin that slid across my face- Lew had picked me for-

"What are we getting?" I piped up. Jewels, charms? Did he want me for a lookout, or was this a job for me? Maybe a thief needed to slip through tunnel, a tight space, fit for a young lad, to steal what Lew had in mind- he needed a snakeman. Or maybe it would be dangerous, and he knew that I was the only one with enough nerve out of the gang to help him- Lew gave me his razor-edged, dry smile, and a thrill of excitement raced through my blood. Whatever it was, I was ready, I was-

"We're off to the Dancing Dove," he told me, and I nearly choked on the air around us.

The Dancing Dove?

"The King's Court?" I managed. "The tavern?"

"Is there any other Dancing Dove?" he asked ironically, condescension and amusement equally mixed in his voice, a tone he usually reserved for the idiots of our lot, but I barely heard him. We were going to the Court of the Rogue- the court, the one Rosto the Piper had first ruled over in the Dove, because he wanted to be close to the people… he was devoted to serving them- he ran the Rogue with an iron fist… and just decisions. He had been there when the renovations had been made, when the secret passages had been built and hidden away, for the Rogue's use only-

"And I know all of them!" I whispered, eyes widening. Secret ways into the Dove that the current Rogue might have never known…. Lew raised a questioning eyebrow, and I turned red. "The Dove has a lot of secrets," I muttered. If anything, my foist's eyebrow rose even higher.

"So it does," he said slowly, still studying me; we had stopped, in the middle of the road. As the afternoon drew to a close, more people filled the streets, but not this one; here was a respectable street, lined with houses of folk who wanted nothing to do with those who wandered in the night. "And what would a healer's boy know about them?" I met his gaze and shook a little.

It was then that, for the first time, that my wee bit of magic spoke to me about Lew; the feeling hit me in the gut hard, as strong as a blow from Ma's hand. It told me to close my trap and keep it shut. I shouldn't say I knew that one could travel from the kitchens to the upper rooms, that a man could slid into the wall from a panel below the staircase to spy upon those in the Court…. Everything I had ever learned from Beka's stories came to the top of my mind. And now someone wanted to know- I should shake my head and smile, shrug and act like a fool….

But other forces were at work back then, loyalty, for one. Lew was my foist, and he had chosen me to visit the Rogue with him, for whatever reason he had. I owed him everything, I had supposed….

But the real danger was my pride. What if Lew thought I was of no importance, as dull-witted as the next magpie? Then he would discard me, and leave me to Marek's vindictive mercy. I wanted more.

I did not want to be just another boy in the street, playing at theft until I was apprenticed to a blacksmith, or a cobbler…. No. Commoner I was, but the legacy that ran through my veins was greater than any nobles'- my ancestors had risen by their own strength and cunning, their own merit; their wit and courage lay dormant in my blood, ready to meet any challenge laid before me.

And I wanted someone to know.

I took a breath, and said seven words to my foist. The lucky seven- the irony does not escape me… The Trickster must have laughed his sorry ass off when I spoke them.

"I know every secret that tavern has." And I watched as surprise flickered across Lew's face. Then his eyes glittered and a chilling smile broke across his lips.

It was the look of a man who senses power is within his grasp. I had not seen it before that, but I have seen it a thousand-fold since. I have seen it on great nobles and strong mages… and I have seen it on hedge witches and petty thieves. And I have seen it enough times to say that Chaos rides upon that burning gaze, that cruel smirk, waiting to descend and feed on those it touches.

"Do you, now?" he queried in a low purr. Pushing back those uneasy feelings, I nodded once.

Yes, loyalty was my reason for ignoring that little feeling that my pride smothered, damn the Trickster for it. Damn him for giving me all those poor excuses, so that I could deny the truth. So that I could do everything I did, and sleep easy at night. So I could deny that I wanted to play with fire, and that I did not have the will to stop.