203 A.B.

(6 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

It always starts with a dare.

I chew on my lip, pretending to think it over, but my mind's already made up.

"I'll do it." I say, snatching the coin out of Edmun's hand. He stands back, smirking as he nods towards the wall.

"Don't break your neck." He says, helpfully.

I shoot him a crude gesture, crossing to the opposite side of the narrow alley and climbing up onto the ale barrel. It takes me a minute to find my balance, but eventually, I manage to straighten my knees and consider the lamp protruding from the wall above me.

"You know, it's not too late to back out." Edmun wags his dark eyebrows. "It's an awful long way to fall."

"Said the chickenshit friend to the guy standing on top of the barrel." I rub my hands together, preparing to jump. "So it's just across this alley?"

"No, not this one." Edmun nods towards the main street. "That one."

I follow his gaze. The market has hit its daily peak of traffic, with scores of Fragments and Intacts elbowing their way through the throng in search of the latest wares. Bright colours and boisterous chatter fill the street, wide enough for a vendor on either side and a stream of foot traffic between.

Something must have shown on my face because Edmun laughs. "Who's the chickenshit now?"

"Still not the guy staying on the ground." Before I can give it another thought, I jump, stretching my hands out and grasping the horizontal bar supporting the lamp over my head. I pull myself bodily up, heaving first my chin, and then my torso above the bar, swinging a leg up and gripping the bar with everything I have.

I manage to stand, holding a hand out to the wall for balance. The rest of the climb is comparatively easy, with the window ledges stacked closely together all the way up to the top.

Heaving myself over the ledge of the roof, I finally release the breath I was holding. My arms ache from the exertion and I shake them out as I straighten, frowning at the smear of dirt staining the front of my tunic. Mum isn't going to be pleased about that.

I move to look down at the main street. The building across the way is lower than the one I'm standing on, not that it helps much. This is a wide street. Very wide. The widest I've jumped, yet. The traffic between us hammers on, completely oblivious. The sounds of conversation and bartering echo up at me.

Edmun peers up from the crowd, shielding his eyes against the glare cast by the sun. He looks nervous; he probably didn't think that I would really take him up on his dare. That was his mistake.

I draw a deep breath, taking several steps back and scuffing my booted feet against the loose stone. From somewhere deep inside a little voice cries out, this is a bad idea. I ignore it. That voice never has anything encouraging to say.

My mind clears and I take off at a run, pushing myself harder than I ever have before. I focus on the ledge in front of me, feeling my stride lengthen as I draw closer to my goal.

I push off with all my strength. Jumping straight out, I pinwheel my arms as I fly through the air, falling towards the next roof. The hot desert air stings my face, tugging me back to Earth.

Oh shit.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

I'm not going to make it.

The wall I was aiming for passes me by, ascending rapidly in front of my eyes while I hurtle to the ground. There is a flash of colour and my ears ring with the sound of several ear-splitting shrieks. I have just enough clarity to glance below me as I fall, catching a glimpse of brightly-coloured canopy. There is a snap and the sound of splintering wood as I collapse in a heap of fabric and broken barrels.

Oh, gods. Everything hurts.

Gradually, the buzzing in my ears fades and I become aware of my surroundings. Something is swathing my head. I bat at it madly, disentangling myself from the shredded tapestry. I pull the ruined fabric off of my face and blink forcefully, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I immediately realize two things.

One, I have landed in a dye-maker's stall. The people peering down at me are stained with vibrant colours; powdered dyes released from the barrels when I made my entrance. That would also explain the choking cloud of dust surrounding us,

The second thing I realize is that these festively-decorated people are very, very angry.

"Shit." I roll onto my front and try to crawl away, but someone grabs hold of my ear, yanking me violently to my feet.

"Just what in the gods' names do you think you are doing?" This must be the owner of the stall. He is red-faced and oversized, a look of pure rage plastered over his bulbous features.

"Ow, leggo my ear!" I protest, trying to twist out of his grip, releasing a yelp of pain when he pulls harder.

"You've ruined all of my goods!" The man cries, shaking me. Another cloud of colourful dust flies into the air and I cough.

"What's going on here?" A deep voice interrupts and I am dragged forward.

Now that we are clear of stall's chalky ruins, I am able to get a sense of the scene. Two guards are standing over us, their hands loosely gripping the hilts of their swords. Crap.

A small crowd has gathered and I dart my eyes over the shocked faces, searching for Edmun. He pushes his way forward, aligning himself with me, taking full advantage of his recent growth spurt and looking the guard full in the eye.

"Look here, mate. It was just an accident." He says, flashing his trademark grin. "We were fooling around on the roofs and he fell. We'll pay for the damage."

There is no way we could possibly afford to pay even a small percentage of the damage, and the guards fully know that.

"Pay it off, eh? Find that hard to believe." The bigger guard scoffs. looking me up and down. I can imagine how I appear; a gangly, red-headed kid, tousled hair and freckled face coated with dye.

"This one's a known troublemaker." The vendor holding my ear says, his tone dripping with disgust. He throws me over to the guard, who grips me firmly by the collar of my jacket. "Send him to the Wastelands, maybe he can be of some use out there."

"Wait, wait, wait." I put my hands in the air peaceably, fighting to keep the panic from my voice. "Let's not be too hasty, here. I'm sure we can reach some type of agreement."

"Sorry, kid. Today just ain't your day." The guard holding me mock-scolds and begins to steer me back down the street, towards the Palace.

"Hey, knock it off!" Edmun is running alongside us, trying to get in the face of the guards escorting me. "This is harassment. It was an accident, you can't arrest him for that."

"We can arrest him for anything we damn well please. You got a problem with it, you're welcome to take it up with the King." The smaller guard shoves Edmun bodily back. "Now get out of here, Fragment."

The man holding me suddenly emits a yelp of pain. I look up and immediately notice two things.

One, his hand is clutched to his temple and a trickle of blood is running between his fingers.

Two, he has released his hold on my jacket.

I take off like a shot, pulling Edmun along with me and taking off in the opposite direction. I can hear the guards' shouts from behind us but ignore them, slipping back into the crowd and turning down an alley. I glance once over my shoulder to make certain that Edmun is following, exchanging a look with him before putting my head down and running as hard as I possibly can.

We weave a complicated pattern back through the narrow alleyways and gradually the sounds of the pursuing guards fades behind us. We sprint deeper and deeper into the Fragment sector, finally taking refuge behind a pub and slumping down onto the ground, breathing heavily.

"That...was a close one." Edmun wheezes, holding his chest.

I barely manage to nod, wiping my arm across my brow, frowning at the smear of paint that comes away.

"What happened?" I ask, when I can finally draw a breath. "Why was he bleeding? Did you throw something at him?"

Edmun shakes his head. "Weren't me. It was a rock, I'm sure of it, but I don't know where it came from." He shoots me a grin and I don't miss the relief spreading across his features. "Safe to say, you've got someone looking out for you."

I laugh, running a hand through my wavy hair and releasing another plume of chalky dye. I wave away the cloud and glance up at the narrow gap of sky above us.

"Crap." I spring to my feet. "I gotta get home. My folks are going to be furious with me."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Edmun asks, straightening and holding out his hand expectantly.

I glance down at his open palm and back up. "What?"

"My coin. I want it back."

"Are you shitting me?"

"You didn't complete the jump, I'm not paying for a crash landing!" He raises his eyebrows at me, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"You can forget that." I shove him backwards. "I've never worked so hard for something in my life."

"Common thief!" He shouts, punching me in the arm. "I'm getting the guard."

"Go for it. I dare you." I punch him back then spin on my heel, jogging back down the alley towards home.

I arrive in front of our shabby building a few minutes later. Glancing up, I notice that the light is burning from the window of the very top floor. I guess I won't be sneaking in, tonight. Blowing out a breath of air between my teeth, I steel myself and push open the wooden door.

My feet scuff against the worn wooden steps. I catch a whiff of cooking food and my stomach growls. Mum is preparing something tasty, tonight. The smell is enough for me to quicken my pace and I arrive on the top floor in no time at all.

Our flat is messy, although Dad prefers to call it 'cluttered'. Stacks of books litter every available corner of the tiny sitting room while worn, second-hand furniture long-past its expiration date make up our chairs and dining table. Mum has spruced the place up with the faded swathes of fabric she has patched together from scraps found at the laundry.

"Frye, is that you?" Mum calls from the kitchen. She steps out into the hall, wiping her hands absently on her apron. "Are you hungry? I'm making-" She stops in her tracks, eyes stretched wide as she stares at me.

"Sorry, Ma, didn't catch that. What did you say you're making?" I ask, leaning against the wall and folding my arms across my chest.

"What did you do?" She crosses the room in two quick strides, grabbing hold of my chin and scrutinizing my face.

I duck out of her reach. "Just a little mishap in the market, nothing to fuss over."

It is at that moment that the front door slams open and my father appears, stooping in order to pass through the entryway. His broad form fills up the small room's remaining space and he immediately appears larger than life, imposing.

His green eyes land on me. I take an involuntary step back, feeling a heat creep up my neck under his glare. Crap. He knows.

A tiny figure skulks in after him. Kay keeps her head ducked low, her oversized mop of red hair shielding her from the room's palpable tension. I think I catch a glimpse of some discolouration on her cheek but I can't be certain. She squeezes past my father, disappearing into the hallway. A second later I hear her bedroom door slam shut.

"So, Frye. Do you want to tell us your side of the story?" My father asks, inclining his bushy head towards the table.

I follow him reluctantly, accepting the proffered seat and slumping down into it. Mum flits back into the kitchen, reappearing with steaming bowls of stew. I poke at the dinner, wondering why Kay isn't eating.

"Well?" Dad is staring at me pointedly as he scoops a healthy-sized portion of food into his mouth.

"Edmun dared me." I say, sullenly. "I thought I could jump the street. It didn't look that far. If I'd just run a bit faster..."

"I'm sure you'd have cleared it, no problem." Dad finishes for me. He dabs lightly at his beard with a napkin. "I don't hold an issue with your physics, Frye. What I fail to understand is why you had to jump, to begin with. You say Edmun dared you?"

"Where is your sister?" Mum breaks in.

"In her room. She didn't want to join us." Dad tells her.

"That's ridiculous, she has to eat." Her chair grates against the wooden floor as Mum rises to her feet. She coughs, waving a hand in front of her face as she walks by me. I feel bad, she's had that chest cold for a few weeks now and the cloud of dye following me around can't be helping matters.

"So, how do you plan on making up for your mistake?" My father's tone is maddeningly conversational as he helps himself to another spoonful. "I'm sure you must have been wracking your brains over it all night."

"What do you mean? I got away with it." I can't help the grin pulling at my cheeks. It's pretty choice, actually, to have escaped the King's guard. I'll bet Lara will be impressed with those credentials. True, she has yet to notice me, but something tells me that this is my year.

"You think the guards are the only ones affected by what you did today?" Dad raises his eyebrows. "What about the vendor whose cart was ruined?"

"Oh." I dribble a bit of soup back into my bowl. "I hadn't thought. He wasn't too understanding, to be honest with you. He wanted me turned over to the Wastelands."

"You don't think matters are hard enough for our sector?" Dad is now looking at me dead in the eye. "You're seventeen years old, Frye. I expect you to understand by now that Fragments need to help one another."

"I know." I grumble.

"I need you to set an example for your sister. She looks up to you."

"I know."

There is the sound of two sets of footsteps; one brisk, one reluctant, as my mother and sister re-enter the room and take their seats. Kay grabs up her spoon as though it were a shovel and scoops huge helpings of stew into her mouth. I finally get a good look at her face and see the bruising under her eye.

"Nice shiner, Kay. Did you get in another fight?" I ask, kicking her under the table.

She kicks me back. "None of your business."

"Not all problems can be solved with violence, Kay." Dad scolds lightly, smoothly transitioning into yet another lecture.

I'm relieved to have the attention off of me and take full advantage of the moment, picking up my bowl and gulping it down. Mum swats the back of my head, sending a sprinkling of dye over the table.

"It was Gordy who started it." Kay crosses her skinny arms, staring daggers at my father. "I only borrowed his slingshot for a little while. I gave it back, just like I said I would."

"So, why did you hit him?" Dad asks.

Mum offers us all a slice of bread. I thank her, taking one and lapping up the remnants of broth from my bowl.

"He called me a thief." Kay huffs. "I'm not a thief, I gave it back."

"Gordy called you a thief, so you hit him." Dad shakes his head. "Does he at least look worse than you?"

A slow smile creeps over my sister's face. "He's got a bloody nose."

"I don't approve of fighting, Kay. Not unless it's for something you truly believe in, in your heart of hearts. Do you understand what I mean by that?"

"Yes, Dad." She nods, solemnly.

"That said, if you are going to fight, then you had best get him as good as he gets you." He chucks her under the chin and she giggles, her pouting forgotten.

"Now, Frye, we were saying." Dad sits back, draping his arm over the back of my mother's chair.

I flinch, buying myself some time by chewing the last of my bread slowly. Swallowing, "I should apologize to the vendor?"

"For starters, but I think you can do one better." Dad plays absently with the end of Mum's red braid. "You're going to work for him in the dye factory. I've already arranged it."

"Oh, that's a marvelous idea, Tobias." Mum pats Dad's leg fondly while I gape at him.

"You can't be serious." I finally manage. Kay lets out a snort of laughter and I shoot her a look. "That guy wanted me arrested, now you expect me to work for him?"

"Indeed, I do. I expect you to repay your debt, make amends and perhaps, dare I say it?" Dad leans in towards me, his eyes twinkling. "Learn to take on some responsibility."

I groan, slumping over the table. "I should have let them ship me into the Wastelands."

Kay pats me on the head. "You would have been, if I hadn't taken Gordy's slingshot."

* * * * *

There are two things that I note immediately on my first day working in the dye factory.

One, doing hard, physical labour the day after falling through a market stall is pure agony.

Two, Lara works here.

It's difficult to concentrate on the heavy barrels I am meant to load onto the cart, when she is standing just off to the side, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against her cheek just so. I know that she's seen me looking at her- I haven't been subtle about it. Whenever she glances up I toss her a wink or a grin. She acts unfazed, but I know better. Pretty girls like her are used to attention and try to pretend that they're above it all, when really, they crave the spotlight.

Someone smacks the back of my head.

"Gods." I curse, rubbing the sore area and glaring up at my attacker.

Huey, the owner of the cart I destroyed, is standing over me. He looks pissed, but I can't tell if that's because he caught me checking out one of his dye girls, or if anger is just his natural state. After nearly an entire day of working under his firm hand, I still have yet to see him display any emotion more positive than 'thoroughly displeased'.

"Eyes on your work, Knight." He snarls, deliberately putting his massive bulk between myself and Lara.

I grimace. The view was decidedly more pleasing, before.

"Yes, sir." I mumble, making to maneuver my barrel around him.

He takes a step to the side, standing directly in front of me, again.

I straighten, biting back a sigh. "Is there a problem?"

"Do you know why you're here, Knight?"

"Because I smashed your cart, sir."

"You're here to learn a little humility, but instead, I catch you standing around all day, eyeballing my employees." His bushy brows lower as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'm inclined to believe that you're fit for nothing but the Wastelands, but your pa convinced me otherwise. Now," He leans in closer and I take an involuntary step back. "Do I have any reason to doubt your old man's good word?"

"No, sir." I say, through clenched teeth.

"Good." He finally steps to the side. "Get back to work."

I keep my head ducked low as I steer the barrel around him, crossing the factory floor and heading outside.

I curse under my breath as I heave the heavy barrel onto the back of the cart. I'm sick of these adults, first Dad and now Huey, telling me what to do, constantly trying to teach me life lessons. Screw them. I'm nearly eighteen and will soon be eligible for the draft. Maybe when I become technically old enough to fight and die for my City, I'll be considered a man capable of running my own life.

"What's got you so bent out of shape?" A voice pipes up from behind me.

I turn around. Lara is leaning up against the wall of the factory, a cigarette poised in her slender fingers. As I watch she takes a slow drag, turning her head and exhaling a fine plume of smoke.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that smoking is bad for your health?" I ask.

Her full lips lift into a smile behind the cigarette. "Sorry if it bothers you." Her bored tone suggests she isn't the least bit sorry. "It's one of my many vices."

"One of many, eh?" I raise my eyebrows at her, questioningly. "Let me guess, another is a weakness for devastatingly handsome gingers?"

"Yes, actually." She takes another drag. "Would you let me know if you come across any?"

I clutch my chest, feigning pain. "Your words wound me."

"Somehow, I think you'll survive." Her blue eyes scrutinize me. "You're the one who fell through Huey's stall, aren't you?"

"'I wouldn't say I fell, precisely." I take the opportunity to close the distance between us, leaning back against the wall next to her. "The full story is much more involved than that. If you're interested, I could tell it to you over a meal."

She laughs, expelling smoke. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"I'm a busy man."

"Yes, I can see that. What with all the random acts of vandalism." She taps the end of her cigarette and a trail of ash falls to the ground. "Sorry, but I also consider my time precious. I can't be wiling away the hours with a troublesome boy."

"You say that, but I have a feeling that troublesome is exactly your type." I run my hand through my hair, quirking a grin at her. That usually gets them weak in the knees.

She drops the cigarette, stubbing it out with the toe of her boot. "Sorry, Frye. You're cute and all, but I'm not really interested in going 'round with a boy." She pats me on the cheek. "I'm holding out for a man."

Lara disappears back inside, leaving me standing in the street with my mouth agape and my eyes glued to the sight of her swaying hips. Eventually, my mind kicks back into gear and I grin, stuffing my hands into my pocket and whistling a tune as return to work.

She knows my name.

And she thinks I'm cute.

The rest of my shift passes quickly. Soon, I am on my way home, my back aching and my mind full of Lara's dark blue eyes. I am sauntering through the familiar streets, lost in my own thoughts when there is the sound of light, pattering feet echoing through the alley up ahead.

I furrow my brow, my heart sinking in my chest when I see who it is. Immediately, I know that something is wrong. Very wrong.

Kay draws to a stop in front of me, her slight chest heaving up and down as she fights to fill her lungs.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Mum." She finally manages. Her green eyes are wide, her face an expression of childlike fear. Without her familiar shield of bluster, she appears every inch her thirteen years. "She collapsed at work. The doctor's with her now." She draws a great, shuddering breath. "You need to come home."

I nod. "Come on, we'll run."

Together, we sprint down the narrow streets. I find myself marvelling at her speed, I barely have to slow my pace at all. Within minutes we are jogging up the spiral staircase towards our dilapidated flat. Kay suddenly stops in her tracks, halting just outside the door. I narrowly avoid slamming into her, stumbling and crashing against the wall.

"Gods, Kay. What's wrong with you?" I say, angrily, shaking out my wrist.

She remains stock-still, staring at the door. "I don't want to be here."

"What are you talking about?" I watch as she takes a single step backwards, towards the stairs. "You said Mum was sick, right? We have to get in there."

"I can't." She takes another step back and I grab her arm. She struggles in my grip. "Let go, Frye."

"No, Kay. Stop." What is with this kid? "Listen to me."

She stops her thrashing, her cheeks burning pink as I crouch down so that I am eye-level with her.

"You can't run away every time you don't want to deal with something." I tell her. "I know it's scary, but Mum needs us right now."

She yanks her arm free. "I'm not running away."

I raise my eyebrows. "Do you really think you can pull one over on me? I'm your big brother. Every trick you've tried, I've already attempted." I tilt my head at her. "And more than likely, was probably caught and punished in the process."

That gets a watery grin out of her.

"We're in this together, okay?" I search her face. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"Promise?"

"Of course." I ruffle her hair and she swats me away. "It's my job to look out for you, weirdo." I place one hand on the doorknob, extending my other hand to her. "Are you ready?"

"No."

"Me neither. Let's go." I twist the handle and push the door open, Kay following reluctantly behind me.

Dad is in the main room, grasping a mug of what must be cold coffee. He rises to his feet when we enter, pulling both of us into a hug. Under normal circumstances I would push him away, but this time I let myself wrap my arms around his broad back. He must have come straight from the quarry- his clothes are covered in the telltale golden dirt.

The three of us sit together, not saying anything as we wait in tense silence. After an eternity the doctor emerges, pulling the door of my parent's bedroom closed behind him. He waves away my father's offer of coffee, drawing up the fourth chair and joining us at the table.

"It isn't good." He says, bluntly. "She's picked up the sickness at the laundry."

My stomach flips with dread. Poor ventilation and harsh chemicals are commonplace to a laundress. In a way, we had all been waiting for Mum to develop the cough.

"There's medication to treat the symptoms, but it isn't inexpensive." The doctor seems genuinely sympathetic. "Her recovery is going to incur some long-term costs."

Dad blows out a breath of air between his teeth, rubbing his face forcefully. Kay stares at the worn top of the table, her expression unreadable. As I look back and forth between my father and sister, realization begins to set in.

Mum's sick.

We can't afford to make her better.

The doctor drones on, but his words are lost. My mind is already a thousand miles away, feverishly sorting through the possibilities. Between this and the debt that I've accrued for destroying Huey's stall, and without the income from Mum's job, we are so deep in the hole that the way out may as well not even exist.

I can tell Dad knows it too, by the way he pales beneath his bushy beard. He nods along with whatever the doctor is saying, but it's obvious that he's as lost as I am. As we all are. Something about seeing my strong, steady father this way twists my gut even further.

Eventually, the doctor makes his leave, patting Dad awkwardly on the shoulder before he picks up his satchel and exits quietly through the front door. Kay slinks away to my parent's room, leaving just me and Dad sitting at the table.

"I can pick up extra shifts at the quarry." He says, breaking through the silence.

I glance up, unsure whether he is talking to me or himself. "Will that be enough?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and I know my answer.

"I can enlist." I hear myself saying. "If I lie about my age, I can get into the Wastelands early and you can use the stipends to help pay for Mum's medicine."

"No." He is shaking his head. "That is out of the question."

"But, Dad-"

His fist comes down so suddenly on the table that I jump. The coffee cup rattles, nearly toppling and I reach out instinctively to grab it.

"I said, no, Frye."

Rage bubbles over inside of me. "Why not? You wanted me to start taking responsibility."

"Your place is here."

"I can help!" My voice rises in volume.

The colour has returned to my father's face and he now burns a furious red. "You are needed here." His voice is strained while he visibly struggles to control his temper. "We are a family. We stick together."

I push back abruptly from the table, rising to my feet and glaring at him.

"I don't know what your problem is." I spit. "You spout these lessons about maturity and helping each other, but when push comes to shove, you won't let me contribute."

"I'm doing the best I can, Frye." He speaks in carefully measured tones. "The odds aren't exactly in our favour."

"So, let's do something about it." My fingers grip the edge of the table as I stare at him. "It shouldn't be this way, Dad."

"Be careful, with that talk."

"I'm serious." The idea begins to solidify itself in my mind. "Why should the Fragments get such a raw deal? If an Intact came down with Mum's sickness, they'd have no trouble paying for the cure." Anger and frustration course their way through my veins. "We outnumber them. If the Fragments banded together, we could take back the City."

When Dad speaks, his voice is low with warning. "It isn't as simple as that. Without the King we'd be leaderless. The human race is barely surviving as it is, and in times such as these, there is one thing more dangerous than a dictator. Do you know what that is, Frye?"

"Another lesson. Goody."

"It's a directionless society." Dad ignores my sarcasm, staring at me meaningfully. "Before you run your mouth about treason, you need to think through the consequences."

I groan, spinning on my heel and crossing to the door in two long strides.

"Where are you going?" He demands.

"Out." I yank the door open. "I've had enough lectures for one day."

The door slams shut behind me, rattling on its hinges with a satisfying tremor. I jog quickly down the stairs, my head swimming with a million confusing thoughts. I wander into the darkened streets, my feet directing me instinctively towards the smithy.

I find Edmun poised over an anvil, hammering away at a molten piece of steel. I give a low whistle and he glances up, white teeth shining brightly from his smoke-blackened face. He removes his apron and shouts something over at his father, who is working over the fire with his back turned to us.

We fall into step and Edmun leads me around the back of the smithy. I settle myself onto the bench while he draws us two mugs of ale from one of his father's oaken barrels. I accept the mug gratefully, downing half of it in one gulp.

"What happened?" Edmun takes a sip of his own drink, waiting.

It takes two more mugfuls in order for me to get through everything. By the time I've finished, we are both equal parts outraged and sloshed.

"So I guess what we need to do, is figure out how to get you some money." Edmun says thoughtfully, leaning with his head back against the wall.

"I guess a job's out of the question. I've got one of those and have nothing to show for it." I scuff my worn boot against the ground.

"Why don't you steal it?"

I scoff, raising my mug to my lips and peering at him over the rim of the glass. All traces of humour have been wiped from his face and he is staring at my with a look of total seriousness.

"Are you serious?" I ask.

"Why not? You said it yourself- the Intacts have more than enough to pay for your Mum's medicine. You could take the money from them." He says, excitedly. "There's a hundred overfed and overpaid people wandering through the market every day. I doubt any of them would notice a few missing coins."

"Pickpocketing." I test out the word, rolling the idea around in my mind. "I have to say, it isn't the worst plan I've ever heard."

"And it's a victimless crime!" Edmun chatters excitedly, gesturing and sending sprinkles of ale flying free of his mug. "Practically, anyway. No one would get hurt."

"I don't know anything about pickpocketing, though."

"What's to know?" He's on a roll, now. "It just takes a little stealth and a quick exit. You've already got a massive advantage, you can use the roofs to get away."

I laugh, glancing up the façade of the building across from us. With a little practice, I could become much better at climbing them. I could learn to jump higher, further. I could use the City's roofs as my own personal domain, travelling high over the heads of the people stuck on the ground.

The actual act of pickpocketing, however, would be another matter. I take after my father in terms of build, every day I seem to grow taller and broader. Moving fluidly amongst the crowd on a busy day in the market is a significant challenge for me. Would that I were small and slight, I could perhaps teach myself to snatch a purse unnoticed, but as it is, my hypothetical career as a criminal is over before it has even begun.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Edmun jerks his head to the side, peering into the dimly-lit street. "It sounded like somebody sneezed."

We fall silent, listening. After a moment, my addled brain slips back into gear and I sigh. "Come on, Kay. I know you're there."

There is a pause, and then she shuffles into view. She glowers at me from the shadows, waiting with her hands on her hips.

"You're a bloody sneak, you know that?" I snap at her.

Kay flinches but steps closer, heaving herself up into a cross-legged position on top of the barrel. She straightens her shoulders, still fixing me with that haughty look.

The kid's got gall, I'll give her that.

"Haven't you got something to say for yourself?" I demand. "When are you going to get your own life and stop creeping around mine?"

She ignores my questions. "Are you going to start pickpocketing?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." I take a defiant sip of my drink.

"I want to help."

I laugh, rolling my eyes at Edmun. He isn't watching me. Instead, he is regarding my sister with a thoughtful look on his face. I kick him in the leg and he grunts, scowling at me.

"I'm small, and I'm quick." Kay talks hurriedly, her green eyes never leaving my face. "We could work together."

"Absolutely not." I look at Edmun for help, but he has that strange look on his face, again. "Edmun?"

He shrugs. "She's got a point. She's certainly a lot less conspicuous than you are."

"Exactly." Kay agrees, eagerly. "Frye could be a distraction or a lookout, and I can take their purses."

"Stop it, this is mad." I rub furiously at my face. "What kind of brother would I be if I introduced my thirteen-year old sister to a life of crime?"

"The kind who made Mum better." She shoots back.

I lower my hands. She is glaring at me, a look of determination plastered over her tiny features.

Sighing, I shake my head. "Kay," I say, with as much gentleness as I can muster. "I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous."

"You sound just like Dad." She plays her trump card. "It's not dangerous if we look out for one another." She takes a breath. "Family sticks together, right?"

Cripes. She really does have a knack for sneaking about.

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking it over. The truth is, if we go down this path, our odds will be much better with Kay helping out. Despite the obvious risks, something tells me that the two of us together might actually have the talent to pull of this hare-brained scheme.

Eventually, an involuntary grin tugs at the side of my mouth. "All right."

"Really?" She fairly squeals, jumping off of the barrel and hugging me about the waist. I laugh, ruffling her hair.

"Yeah, but if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right." I push her back by the shoulders. "What does Dad always say is the best way to get better at something?"

"Practice." She says, solemnly.

"Right-o, sis." I wink, straightening and looking over at Edmun. "You'd better get your Mum's purse. Tonight, we start dress rehearsal."