“And yer sword,” said another.
“And that pretty cape,” added one more.
“The boots,” concluded the last. “I’d like thems shiny boots.”
“Then we leaves you right be,” finished the first.
“Why stop there?” challenged the man. “Why not take all my clothes?”
“Nah, that would be right greedy.”
The man raised a shocked brow. “Good to know you all are not without reason.”
The larger street dweller stepped threateningly close, blade raised. “I thinks he laughs at us, gents.”
“If he does not,” chimed in Larkyra from where she was leaning against a wall, watching, “I certainly am.”
“Who are ya?” barked the leader, his crew all glancing her way.
“I’m here to tell you to leave this poor man alone.”
A laugh burst from the giant. “He ain’t poor anything, little mop. Now be on yers way, and we’s promise not to hurt ya next.”
“I can’t do that,” said Larkyra, her magic beginning to stir in her belly.
“And why’s that?”
“Because today is my birthday, you see, and I’d really like it if I could spend it without seeing anyone get robbed . . . or killed,” she added for good measure.
“Then I’d spend yer day in bed, little mop, or pop out dem pretty blue eyes, fer no grains fall down here without all dem things happenin’.”
“Yes,” agreed Larkyra. “But I’d still like to try. Now, as I said, you should leave.”
More amused chuckles from the group.
“Please, miss,” said the cornered man. “I have this under control.”
“But for how much longer?” challenged Larkyra.
He appeared to think on this as he sized up his opponents.
They sneered and raised their weapons.
Larkyra wasn’t in the mood for a fight, but she also didn’t want to merely walk away. Not now. Yet currently, with only one proper working hand . . .
Ours, crooned her magic. Let us do it for you.
Larkyra internally stroked her powers, which paced restless in her lungs, a master calming a hungry tiger.
Gentle, she coaxed.
Larkyra had already sensed this group was without the lost gods’ gifts, a common finding in Jabari and one reason she had decided to intervene. She wanted to help, but quickly and without drawing attention. And though she wasn’t meant to use it, was supposed to be without, today, the last day of her Lierenfast, she decided a little magic wouldn’t hurt anyone. At least not as she was now: calm, collected, controlled.
With Larkyra’s mind made up, her powers tickled up her throat as she commanded, “GO.”
A burst of her yellow magic smacked into the thugs’ faces, cutting off the last of their laughter.
Larkyra moved closer, her voice dripping with warning. “Be on your way, or you will have more than blood to pay.”
If any passersby possessed the Sight, as all who held the lost gods’ gifts did, they would have seen warm honey-colored mist pouring from each of Larkyra’s words, clouding the heads of her victims. But no one here held such gifts, so no one here saw a thing.
With glazed eyes the men blinked before they each turned and left.
The alley sat quiet as her magic retreated.
“Well,” said a deep voice from behind her. “That was rather . . . odd. But I thank you.”
Larkyra found the genteel man sheathing his sword, while his curious gaze lingered on her.
Now alone, Larkyra had a chance to get a good look at him as well.
She instantly knew one thing; he was beautiful.
Annoyingly so.
His deep-copper hair sang with a glint of light that cut through the alley and contrasted nicely against his pale skin and dark attire. His crisp, clear features shone with youth, yet his green eyes held walls, calculated distrust. Larkyra wondered if this young man always wore this look, or only now because of what he gazed upon: another street urchin after his fine things.
“You’re a fool for coming here dressed like that,” said Larkyra.
The man glanced down. “Yes, perhaps I should have done better. But these were the plainest clothes I had near.”
“You’re twinkling like a shiny copper coin in a pile of dirt,” scoffed Larkyra. “Anyone passing will want to snatch you.”
“Is that what you’re doing now? Snatching me?”
Larkyra raised her brows. “I thought it was clear. I was saving you.”
“Yes,” mused the man. “That was impressive. How did you get them to listen to you like that?”
Larkyra pushed down her twinge of annoyance. “You stand here, still with your pouch of coin and cape and sword and shiny boots. What does it matter how anything came to be? Now, hurry back to where you came. I don’t know if I’d be inclined to save you again today.”
She set off toward the main street.
The man followed. “That’s just the thing. I was trying to go back to where I ‘came,’ as you put it. But you see, I seem to have . . . well . . .”
“You’re lost,” said Larkyra.
“Yes,” said the man.
She let out a sigh, catching the strange glances from those around them. They no doubt assumed she was a girl trying to turn tricks, standing and conversing with such a well-bred man.
“Follow me,” said Larkyra.
“Where are we going?”
“You aren’t very quick, are you?”
“So you’ll take me back?”
“I’m taking you out of here. Wherever your ‘back’ is, you’ll need to find it once we reach the middle ring.”
“I can do that.”
One would hope, thought Larkyra as they turned and twisted through the maze that was the lowers.
Larkyra’s gaze kept creeping to the man beside her. He was rather tall, she noted, and thin but not scrawny. She could tell his strength lay in quickness rather than brute force. “Why are you here anyway?” she asked after a moment.
Green eyes slid toward her. “I’m in Jabari for a Eumar Journé.”
Larkyra knew he knew she was asking why he was in the lower quarters, but the man obviously didn’t want whatever business he was attending to here be known. Larkyra appreciated a good secret, so she let it slide.
“That’s a birthday celebration for a girl who has come of age,” explained the man as they walked over a crowded bridge. “Who has turned nineteen—”
“I know what a Eumar Journé is,” cut in Larkyra. “Who is the family?”
“I’m sure you do not know them.”
“And why are you sure of that?”
“Well . . . I, that is . . .”
Larkyra bit back a grin at his flushed features. Despite the delay this caused in reaching her destination, Larkyra decided she was rather enjoying his strange company.
“They are the Bassettes,” he admitted eventually.
“Ah,” said Larkyra, a flutter filling her belly at the name. “A Council family. That will be a grand party, indeed.”
“Yes,” said the man, studying her, and then, “you said it is your day of birth as well?”
“It is.” Larkyra grinned.