Dirkhan loomed over Cat, crouched on the floor. He planted his fists on his hips, then slowly shook his head. Heaving a sigh, he rumbled, "Do it again, Kit."

Cat sighed as well and started to empty the rucksack. "Yes, sir."

She piled the various items on the floor. Dirkhan squatted beside her. "You've got to pack it right," he said. "Your life may depend some day on how quickly you can lay your hands on a coil of rope or your flints and tinder."

"But if I don't know what I'll need when--" Cat began. Dirkhan shook his head. "It's a matter of packing your gear in such a way that you can find whatever you need in an instant."

Cat almost growled in frustration and ran a hand through her boy-short dark hair. They had been at this lesson for hours, and she didn't seem to be any closer to succeeding. It didn't help that Dirk was taking her on her first mission in two days' time.

Since that dawn six months ago, Dirk had rechristened her "Kit" and taught her the finer points of living as a boy. "There aren't any women in the Guild," he told her once. "Most of my men see women only as . . . well, as outlets for certain urges." Cat knew too well what those "urges" were, and she did her best, even going about with a pair of rolled-up stockings in her trousers to perfect her walk.

The time she spent working in the barber-shop taught her to keep her eyes and ears open; much more gossip went on in such a place than anywhere else, the sort of talk a thief needed to hear. "A man will tell his barber things he wouldn't tell his wife," Dirk had said after hearing a particularly interesting tale from one of the town's wealthier merchants.

Dirk had also begun training her, teaching her various methods of picking a man's pocket or lifting a lady's purse. Cat now knew the best days of the week to steal at the market, even the best hours of those days. She had learnt how to enter and leave a building unseen and what to do if somehow she was discovered somewhere she shouldn't be.

She chafed at this latest lesson, though. Cat reckoned she'd packed and re-packed the kit-bag a hundred times. She tossed an empty scroll case into the pack. "I'm never gonna get this right!"

Dirk sighed, sounding exasperated, then he chuckled. "Yes, you will, Kit. It's just a matter of time."

They returned to the lesson after supper, but Cat soon grew tired and frustrated. "Hell's teeth!" she shouted, kicking the pack across the floor and spilling the contents. She looked at Dirk, who watched her tantrum, arms folded. Lowering her head, Cat picked up the pack, collected the gear, and started again.

The clock on the mantel had struck one before Dirk allowed Cat to go to her bed. "We'll start again fresh in the morning," he said, shoving the pack into a corner of her wardrobe. Cat groaned inwardly, but crawled into her bed without complaint.

She lay awake, wondering about the mission to come. Dirk had told her nothing other than that she was to accompany him. She wanted to know more, but hadn't found the right time to ask him. Her fingers found her St. Bridget's medal and toyed with it while she considered when and how to broach the subject. Before too long, though, her hand ceased its restless movements, and she slept.

Cat didn't find the courage to question Dirk until the day of the mission. She sat at the kitchen table, pushing her breakfast around on her plate. "Eat up, Kit," Dirk encouraged. "You'll be sorry by lunchtime if you don't."

"I'm just excited, that's all," Cat said, seizing the opportunity. "About the mission."

"No point getting excited now," Dirk said as he bit into his toast. "You'll wear yourself out before tonight."

"But, where'll we be going? What'll we do when we get there? Why tonight?" Once the questions started, Cat couldn't stop them; they tumbled out on top of one another. "Are we going very far? How long will it take? Will anyone else be there? From the Guild, I mean--"

Dirkhan held up a hand, and somehow Cat managed to swallow the rest of the questions. "You don't need to know any of that," he said. Cat frowned. "But--"

"No 'buts.' You know what you need to."

"I don't know anything!"

"That's what you need to know."

Cat heaved a sigh. Dirk gave her a hard stare. "A master never tells an apprentice everything. He never tells him most of it. You do what you're told to do--nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?"

Cat squirmed in her seat, feeling considerably less than her fourteen years. "Yes, sir."

Dirk popped the last of his toast into his mouth and chewed. "Eat your breakfast."

Cat spent the day as she usually did, sweeping up and fetching things at the shop. She noticed that, more than once, Dirkhan sent her into the back for one thing or another when certain people came in; when she returned, they would be gone. She had a fair idea of who these men were, but she chose not to ask Dirk to confirm it.

Instead, she watched him, marvelling at how he could elicit information from his customers with the merest look or gesture. Cat was coming to realize that everyone, from the highest lord to the lowest beggar, had something of value, some bit of information that he was eager to share with a listening ear.

Dirk caught her leaning on her broom at one point that afternoon. "Kit, get back to work," he barked, startling her out of her study. Cat began to sweep the floor again. He caught her eye and winked. Cat dropped her head, smiling to herself, while Dirk resumed his conversation with the guard-captain who sat in his chair.

After supper that night, Cat packed their gear with care, her hands trembling with suppressed excitement. They didn't leave their rooms behind the shop until nearly midnight. Dirk took the pack from Cat while she followed him out the kitchen window, then handed it back to her. "You're in charge of this," he said. Those were the last words he spoke for quite some time.

They slipped through the shadowed alleyways of Arcadia, pausing or changing direction often to avoid the patrols. Dirkhan moved like a wraith, swift and silent, alert to the slightest sound that meant guards. Cat followed, staying as close as possible, afraid of getting lost altogether, utterly disoriented as she was. The pack over her shoulder slowed her down, but she didn't dare ask Dirk to wait for her.

At one point, she lost sight of Dirkhan. She paused, breathing hard, and adjusted the pack while she scanned the alley. A faint footstep echoed to her left, where a smaller alley branched off towards the street. She turned in the direction of the sound, his name on her lips. In an instant, she knew it couldn't be Dirkhan: she could hear the clink of chain mail and the rattle of sheathed swords.

The sounds ceased a moment, replaced by muted voices, then Cat heard one man approaching. She looked around and found nowhere to hide. The alley lacked the usual piles of garbage, rain barrels, and heaps of bricks or timber. Pressing herself against a wall, Cat tried to slow her breathing, at the same time wondering what she would do if the guard discovered her.

The footsteps paused, then she heard what sounded like a stream of water hitting the brick wall around the corner and realized why the guard had left his patrol. Cat relaxed. If she stayed quiet, the guard would have no reason to come around that corner.

A darker shadow loomed up, again on her left. Cat caught the movement at the edge of her vision and turned. Dirkhan stood a few yards away. Cat motioned for him to stay where he was. He couldn't have seen her gesture, because he walked towards her. Afraid for both of them, Cat dug into the pack, which she'd set on the ground. Her hand found a whetstone. Pulling it out, she hefted it in her palm, then lobbed it around the corner. She heard it land some distance up the other alleyway.

"What--!" the guard yelped, then, "Who goes there?" He finished what he was doing and left to investigate. Cat yanked the pack to her shoulder again and ran to meet Dirk.

"I thought you were behind me," Dirk murmured, so low she had to strain to hear him.

"I was," Cat replied, her voice as quiet as his. "Just a little farther behind than you thought." She saw him smile in the gloom, and she hitched the pack up over her shoulder, tightening her grip on it.

They made their way through several more alleys, then Dirkhan halted, holding up a hand as a signal for Cat to wait. He peered around the corner, then stepped out of the alley. Cat lowered the pack to the ground and tried to catch her breath.

After a moment, she poked her head out to see what Dirk was doing. The alley opened into one of Arcadia's grubby back streets, lined with run-down terraced houses and shops, some of dubious legitimacy. Not that it matters, Cat thought and grinned.

She couldn't see Dirkhan at first; it took several moments of hard looking before she spotted him several yards up the street, moving carefully and keeping to the shadows. He stopped opposite a building that housed a pawnshop; Cat could see starlight winking off the three brass balls over the door. He signalled her to join him. Cat shouldered the pack, which felt much heavier than when they'd left home, and slid around the corner.

Dirk led her into another alley, beside the building where he'd stopped, so narrow he almost had to walk sideways. It opened into a muddy lane that ran parallel to the street in front. The lane was deeply rutted; Cat guessed that delivery-wagons travelled it on a regular basis. Dirk pointed to the roof, and she nodded. Dropping her pack, she took out a coil of rope, threw it over her shoulder, and started to scale the building, finding good hand- and footholds in the crumbling mortar.

On the roof, Cat crawled to the chimney, where she tied one end of the rope; the other, she threw down to Dirk. When he joined her, he brought the pack, handing it back to her before walking across the roof. Cat collected the rope and followed, stopping when he did. Dirk glanced at her, then eased himself from the roof to the window-ledge below.

Cat hung over the edge, watching him work on the shutters. When he unfastened them, Dirkhan looked at her and held up two fingers. Cat nodded and started counting off the seconds in her head as soon as he entered. If she didn't see him in two minutes, she would grab the gear and fly for home: those had been Dirk's orders, though she had protested that she would not leave him if they encountered trouble. Fortunately, her obedience wouldn't be tested this night; Dirk reappeared in moments, gesturing for Cat to join him. She swung over the eave and dropped to the ledge.

Dirk caught her. "Careful," he muttered, steadying her while she found her footing and came through the window. Cat followed him across a darkened room, staying on his heels as Dirk led the way along a corridor and down a flight of stairs.

Downstairs, Dirkhan paused, then turned right, into a large room; Cat sensed rather than saw the dimensions. She reached out and touched the back of a chair. She let her hand glide off that and found a table. It occurred to her that they were in the common room of an inn or tavern. Cat tugged on Dirk's sleeve. "Why're we here?" she whispered.

"You'll see," was the reply.

Cat knew she wouldn't get anything more from him. She kept pace with Dirk as they went through the kitchen, where she caught the lingering scent of roast mutton, and down more stairs into an impossibly-dark basement. Here she could smell ale and fermenting mead, with root-cellar undertones of potatoes and turnips. She blundered into a wooden keg, bruising her knee.

Dir stopped; Cat lurched into him. "You'll have to be dead quiet now," he whispered. Cat nodded. "Yes, sir." She heard the scrape of metal on metal, then a click; cool, dank air moved past her cheek.

The echo of her own boots on stone steps sounded unnaturally loud to her ears. Cat relaxed her feet, deadening the noise. Dirk walked ahead of her; she felt his warm bulk as the only heat in the cold passageway. They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Dirk steered her to the right. A few steps farther, Cat heard the quiet scuff of boot-leather against stone. She turned towards the sound just as a hand grabbed her arm and flung her into a wall. She hit it with her shoulder, hearing at the same time the slither of a steel blade leaving its sheath. "Stand and deliver," said a voice from the dark.

Cat fought the urge to scream. She had to assume that Dirk had been taken as well. As if to confirm her fears, the sounds of a scuffle erupted nearby. "We've got your partner, too," said the voice. "Might as well give up."

"I'd rather die," Cat responded. Her unseen captor laughed. "You've got spirit," he murmured. "Hate to see it separated from your body."

A loud cry came from somewhere close, then Dirk shouted, "Kit! To me!" In that instant, Cat swung her pack at her captor. She felt it connect and heard a grunt, then the sword skittering across the floor. Cat bolted towards the sound of Dirk's voice, running straight into the man himself. Dirkhan caught her. "Good show," he murmured, then raised his voice. "All right, lads."

Torches flared to life along the walls. Cat blinked in the sudden light, shrinking into the protection of Dirk's embrace. Several men and boys, some younger than she, stood in a semi-circle in front of her and Dirk. They wore a mixture of outfits: leather trousers, woollen shirts, leather jerkins, homespun breeches. One, a tall, black-haired man, wore a white gypsy shirt under an open leather vest; he held a naked sword in his hand.

"So, lads," said Dirkhan in jovial tones. Cat looked up at him. Dirk grinned at the motley crew before them, at ease. "Is Kit not a worthy 'prentice?"

The black-haired man sheathed his sword. "Aye, that he is, Dirk," he said. His approval seemed a signal to the others; once he spoke, they relaxed. He offered Cat his hand. "Hope I didn't frighten you much," he smiled.

Cat shook his hand briefly. "No," she answered, meeting his gaze. His eyes were as dark as Dirkhan's, bottomless black wells that shone in the torchlight. He was handsome, she noted, with that wavy dark hair tumbling over his collar. She broke eye contact when Dirk clapped his hands on her shoulders. "This is Ramsall," he introduced, "as masterly a thief as you're likely to find among this lot."

Ramsall smiled as Dirk chuckled. "And you're Kit, Dirk's new apprentice," he said. "He's been keeping you from us."

"I wanted to make sure he was ready for you," Dirk said. "He was a bit young when we met."

Ramsall turned back to Cat. "How old are you, Kit?"

"Just turned eleven," Cat lied. Ramsall nodded. "A good age to start your apprenticeship," he murmured. He looked at Dirkhan. "You've chosen well."

"As I did when I took you as my 'prentice," Dirk smiled. He gave Cat a gentle shake. "Come, let's go."

They all walked down a corridor that opened into a large, low-ceilinged room, where a brazier glowed in the middle of the floor. "What is this place?" Cat asked; she hadn't stopped staring since the torches had been lit.

"This is the Guildhall," Dirk told her. "Our safe-house. Lars owns the tavern up above." He nodded to a large man with a bushy brown beard.

Dirk led her to the centre of the room. The rest of the Guild members ranged about the perimeter. Dirkhan faced them across the brazier, holding Cat in front of him. "I wish to take this lad as my apprentice, teach him our ways until such time as he attains the rank of Master. Does any one of you object, or lay prior claim to this lad?" Most of the men and boys shook their heads; a few quiet "nays" rose from them.

"Then it will be so," Dirk said. He turned Cat to face him and brought something out of his pocket. "From this day, you belong to me." He slipped a leather thong over her head; Cat felt a gentle thud against her chest and glanced down to see a bronze-coloured medallion, shaped like a "Z" with two spikes across its middle. She looked into Dirkhan's smiling face. "Your Guild-mark is the key to your new home." The big man clasped her by the shoulders. "Welcome to the family."

© Catherine Thompson, 2002. All rights reserved.

>>Read the next story in the series

<<Back to the Fiction Index

Go on... email Catherine about the story... you know you want to...

[Join the Game] [Characters] [Map] [Links] [The Story] [Fiction] [Art]