Domi was a man on a mission, industrious and efficient, as he waded into the marketplace throng and began relieving the unsuspecting people of their trinkets and coins.

"Here," he said in a murmur, passing an ivory comb, a silver ring, and a few bronzes along to an older boy with a rolled-up sleeve.

The snatcher tucked the goods away in his cuff, tipped an imaginary hat, slipped between two carts laden with painted terracotta vases, and vanished.

Domi did likewise.

Half of the eve's earnings made their way back home to his ma's stash at the wine bar and the other half to his own stash at the mill. The city watch only searched him once more.

An hour after Dimming, the evening Rain ceased, and the crowd thinned. Domi whistled the tune to the jaunty satirical song, "Penna Igneae's Wings Caught Fire," as he eyed the enormous forum clock that towered over the marketplace.

As he spotted the time, he broke off the song with a sigh. He needed to stop early today. The law required everyone to attend the annual New Year's Observance in two hours, from the lowest Pyrrhaeus to the highest Promethides. Most people would go home to change into finer clothes, and Domi would too if time allowed.

First, he visited the mill underneath the city's bathhouse for the third time that eve to drop off his acquired loot. The last visit was always his favorite, because he collected the day's earnings while there.

He ignored the cryptic chicken scratch on the sign over the bathhouse's main door and the attendant shouting "no Pullati" as he neared. Domi rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I'm too filthy to even be allowed to bathe, right?"

The woman sniffed and waved a hand for Domi to go away. Whatever. The city's dunces could waste their fancy coin on water all they wanted. It didn't matter. Pullati enjoyed hot baths for free.

Domi entered the walled courtyard at the rear of the bathhouse, shrugged into a narrow grotto past two servants delivering wood, and descended the rough-hewn service stairs. Winding down into the thermal complex's tunnels, he passed boilers and terracotta pipes, which transported warm water to the baths above. Soon, he meandered into the subterranean chamber where used water from the baths drained.

Several of the city's Pullati waded in front of the waterwheel in various states of undress, scrubbing with bars of homemade soap. Two kids from the snatcher gang hung out with the adults. One wrung out clothes and washed her hair and feet, and the other emptied their pockets into grain bins with furtive glances at the few outsiders. Some bins were filled with barley flour, and others... were not.

Domi glanced up at the wheel behind them and smirked. It turned under a steady flow of water draining from the public baths above, but unlike upstairs, this water cost nothing. Better yet, the presence of "filthy Pullati" inspired most people to pick up their weekly grain rations elsewhere. Sometimes prejudice offered a gift: No better place existed in all of Urbs Hostiae for Pullati business.

Domi eyed a pair of burly servants as they loaded four bins of flour into a cart. The moment they meandered away, he wasted no time. Trinkets clattered as he emptied his pockets.

A glance inside the bin as his earnings joined the rest of the day's loot suggested the lift was off to a good start. On an average day, a snatcher team could bring in four or five golds' worth of coin and trinkets. They might increase their earnings by sixty percent by taking a few minor, calculated risks with decent rewards. Nothing too extravagant, of course, or the public would demand a more thorough response to the "Pullati Problem" than a few searches by lazy watchmen. One must proceed with extreme caution when thieving in one's own neighborhood.

"How'd we do?" Vis asked, kneeling to rinse her undershorts. And everyone said the Pullati never washed.

Domi replaced the lid on the bin. "We're on track for today." He hesitated. Should he tell them? He sighed. It would be wise not to lie to Vis unless he wanted an earful. "But I'm afraid it's going to take a bit longer than we hoped to afford the laurel."

The redhead nodded, and at her side, her sibling Radix tilted their head and eyed Domi with a knowing gaze. "What's the damage going to be?"

He grimaced. "If I say ten thousand bronze, does that sound better or worse than one hundred gold?"

"One hund—"

"That's going to take some time to earn," Vis cut in, cool and calm as always. Unlike her sibling.

"Some time?" Radix shook their head in astonishment and rambled in a rising voice. "If we keep up today's ridiculous pace and manage by some miracle to maintain a sixty-percent increase, we still need to keep it up for twenty-five days in a row. No, make that thirty if you count the days off for Cultus observances, and if one of us is arrested and taken out of commission, it will take us—"

"Speaking of observances," Vis said, "are you going this eve?"

"Of course he's going," the younger redhead said. "This is Domi the Devout we're talking about. Have you ever known him to miss?"

The siblings were an unusual pair, the older girl tall and sturdy and the younger child short and slight. Yet both shared stunning golden eyes in warm-bronze faces. And of course, there was the hair. Those wild auburn curls framed Radix's heart-shaped face better, though. Sometimes Domi couldn't help staring at his gorgeous friend when the light fell just right on their curls and delicate face. The nonbinary child always looked good, even in the mud-splattered feminine black tunica they wore today with a tattered masculine green sash. His heart pounded. Real good.

Not that he would tell them that. Or anyone. He saw how the older kids teased one another over such things. He would die of embarrassment. Nor was he prepared to endure "the talk" from his mother if she caught wind he now sometimes noticed other kids that way. Girls. Boys. Nonbinary kids. It didn't matter; as long as they were attractive, they all drew his eye in ever more distracting ways.

He brushed off the thoughts, half sure his hot face glowed deep red. "I'm going." Radix spoke the truth; Domi had never skipped an observance in his life. He didn't believe all the wondertales from the Holy Ovidiana scriptures. Still, he enjoyed the weekly moral tales shared by storytellers in the forum, and he loved the traditional annual retelling of the Eternal Radiance's arrival on Aquarius. The Rex and four Princepses themselves always orchestrated the New Year's Observance with all the pomp and pageantry a boy could want.

"I can't wait to find out what the new Princeps Worldholder will do," Vis said.

"Me neither," Domi said, though the idea made him nervous. The last Keeper of Heaven and Earth died without warning a day and a half ago. He hoped the new one could control the Trellis during the ceremony without messing up.

"I recognize that face," Radix said with a sly chuckle. "You're afraid the dunce will burn the world down."

"I am not," Domi said. "I'm just excited. It's not every day we enjoy free entertainment." The fact that everyone on Aquarius must attend the New Year's Observance also meant everyone could attend. He loved obeying the law this one eve. "And don't call the Princeps a dunce. We all depend on him. Show some respect."

Vis rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you better hurry. Observance is in one hour, and you still need to drop this off and get your ma." She patted the bin.

"Speaking of which..." Radix pulled off the bin's lid and scooped barley flour from another bin over the trinkets. "There we are. Your dole, citizen." They plopped the lid back in place with a firm pat.

Domi snorted. Only people with their names entered in the Compendium were citizens, entitled to a dole of rations, public education, trial by jury, and other luxuries. Few Pullati bothered to register their kids at birth or any time thereafter. He was not a citizen. None of them were.

"I should be on my way," he said. The siblings nodded, and hauling the bin into both arms, Domi started off.

"Domi?" He paused at the tension in Vis's voice. "You're bleeding."

"Hmm?" He glanced down at his elbow, and sure enough, blood still streamed from the shallow cut. The Rain washed most of it away earlier, but down here in the shelter of the subterranean tunnels, a thin red rivulet trickled down his arm without obstruction. "Oh. Just a little scrape." She and Radix shared doubtful frowns. "I'll be fine. I always am." He nodded over his shoulder. "Carry on. Don't snatch anything that will get you killed."

"Same to you," Vis said.

"That idiot," Radix muttered.

Domi pretended not to notice Vis nod. He wasn't an idiot; the cut was a tiny scratch. He would deal with it later.

"He's risking everything for this job." Vis sighed behind him. "This magic stone he's after better be worth it."

Domi gritted his teeth as he hurried away. The stone would be worth it. It had to be.