HOME | DD

Description
Chapter Two: Thief's Honor
"Mama?" I said, as I slowly pushed open the door of the little ramshackle shack, I hoped that my mama would be home and well. It was almost a week ago that I had been knocked unconscious by the falling crates and secreted away to the Thief City. With Dusk's help, I left the underground labyrinth and it's sweltering, dimly lit tunnels and returned above ground under the cover of nightfall. Jasper told me that I was free to come and go as I pleased as long as I obeyed him when he summoned me to his side.

I stumbled a few painful steps into the one room shack, hearing nothing, I reached forwards to pull aside the woven blankets that mama used to give privacy. Upon pulling aside the first, I froze.

Mama was there with Mirage wrapped tightly to her chest, her head bowed low. She was kneeling beside my father's pallet where he spent most his days lying deathly still when he wasn't convulsing with blood-filled coughing fits. The healers said that they could do nothing for him except ease his pain, that his illness was not something that was not easily mended with magic especially with the damage it had already wrought on his body. But today, I heard no coughing nor did I see my father's shape tucked in the shadows.

I limped closer and with every stride I took the facts became clearer.

"He's gone, isn't he?" I asked softly.

Mama did not answer.

"When did he—" I couldn't bring myself to say 'die'.

My mama stood up but did not look my way. "He asked for you three morns ago. All these long years of senseless rambling and fevered nonsense and he finally comes to his senses when you are nowhere to be found. Why, Terry, why? Your father begged me to bring you to him, he even wept when I said you hadn't come home for some time. He finally fell over the edge, his heart giving out with grief."

"I-I'm sorry, mama."

She shuddered and snapped around to look straight at me, the very force of her gaze crushing. I've rarely seen my mama like this, her dark eyes swollen from crying and her pale face drawn taught with fury. I slowly lowered my hand away from the blanket that I had curled in my fingers and rested it on my bandaged arm. She looked older than her youthful two-hundred and some plus years.

It was frightening to see mama like this but she is of both gypsy and wild elf blood; her emotions as tumultuous as the winds of change and as powerful as the ancient forests of long ago where all things originated. With her crown of well-pinned dark-brown plaits tumbling down her back wildly, adding to the ancient savageness that danced in her gaze, she looked ready to dive into the fray of battle. But the silver threads that marked her dark locks revealed the sorrow and the weariness that lurked beneath her mask of fury.

She needed rest. Sleep would calm her.

"Mama, give me Mirage. I will watch her. You must take to bed or she and I will be without a mother if you make yourself ill," I did not know how I managed to sound to calm and resolute when I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees again and cry like an infant. Perhaps a week ago I might have. Mayhap, Jasper might have made me braver or a little bit stronger by breaking me. Like a bone, when broken my will had to heal stronger than before, harder to break, laced with freshly tempered steel so as to prevent future harm.

I caught my mama's gaze and held it, our matching eyes exchanging silent words that only a mother and her child could share. She lowered her eyes first and I saw her sigh raggedly in defeat.

"Terry," she said softly, "son, you have made me ill with worry already. Where have you been while your father asked for you? Where have you been when I searched the alleys and the homes of our neighbors, the thought of you being dead the only thought on my mind?"

"Shush, questions later, sleep now." As I reached out, my mama lifted Mirage from her chest and placed her in my arms.

Mama only stared at me for a long moment as if she could not believe that I was actually there, her gaze no longer filled with fire but rather cold emptiness. "You are a clever boy, my son. Always such a clever, darling boy. So intelligent, so able, so much like your father… If only you were less like me, less prone to wander and seek the answers most folk leave buried away." The affection her tone intermingled with disappointment, her face startlingly cold, almost impassive.

"I love you mama."

She smiled faintly then and replied dully, "But not enough to give up your ways."

"No mama," I told her sadly, "I love you too much to give up my ways. Now sleep mama. Mirage is quiet and I've reason to stay home a while. Perhaps a long while."

"No thieving?" She asked slowly, her voice filled with an inkling of hope.

"No thieving."

Mama then nodded and placed a cool hand on my cheek; she stared at me for only a second longer before she placed a kiss on my brow and slowly walked away. She looked like a ghost in her mourning gown. The somber white fabric moved with infinite grace every step she took; when she lifted her arm to brush back a faded wool blanket, ripples moved down from her elbow to her ankles as if someone had dropped a stone into a pail of milk and toppled it over.

Soon she disappeared behind the blanket, leaving me alone with Mirage and my own memories. Thinking not of what I said, I asked my baby sister if she want to hear a story to help her sleep. Of course, she said nothing but I still sat down cross-legged on my father's now empty pallet and began weaving a story of my own. A story of a boy who saw his future in a puddle and when he went to splash through it, he fell into that future world and found himself trying everything to get home. I'd never made up a story of my own before for telling others, but I think my first tale was suiting. It ended on a note harmonious to how I felt. The boy returns home man years later and learns that no one remembers him. Lost, the boy runs to find the puddle through which he re-entered the world to find it dried up.

Mirage did not seem to mind the sad ending for she slept soundly in my arms until the light of morning washed over the city, heralding the beginning of a new day.

***

For many days and nights, I stayed with my mama and my sister. Mama did not speak much but there was little that needed to be said. With the money she did not have to spend on my father's herbal elixir, she purchased extra wool to spin into thread and in turn, she wove new blankets to sell. I do not know how long I lived my life in a state of lull, where I simply did as my mama bade me.

However many days and nights that was --I realized soon that all could not remain that way.

Mama sent me to the market one morn, awkwardly carrying a bundle almost as long as I stood tall. A feeling niggled at me until I could stand it no more and I started to scan every face around me. I saw no one I knew as a threat but the lack of familiarity made me nervous. So many strangers from so many places, I almost forgot how I worked these streets among these very strangers only a few nights before.

Lowering my head, I slipped through the crowd, new thoughts nagging me like flies.

***

I've spent countless hours reading and reciting from the scripture that Mama brings me from the Goddess Temple. Sometimes she even gives me ink and paper to practice my script rather than chalk and slate. But I know that she sees my anxious fingers as I attempt to copy the vows and blessings, the quill in my hand quivers and the ink blots. I know she hears the hesitation in my voice as I make my prayers each night.

I know because I see it in her eyes when I try to find her approval.

Ever since that morn where I faltered and panicked in the market I knew that every time I gave prayers, I was lying to myself and to Mama. The streets called to me and the gypsy winds of change urged me to take flight. Only, I wanted so desperately to cling onto what I had found at last. But I learned quickly that I want does not matter in the end.

***

"…The Goddess gives me strength for I am her son and like all other children of her infinite grace and wisdom I—" At my hesitation, Mama nodded, her eyes sad. "I-I…" The words just could not leave my lips and I shook my head desperately. "I'm sorry Mama, I can't, I can't!"

To my surprise, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, "I know. I understand."

"You do?"

"Of course, my son, I knew that the temple and her ways did not call you. But can you blame me from trying to save you from yourself?"

"No Mama, I do not blame you…"

"It took me until now to realize that you do not need saving."

Startled, I looked her way, trying to understand what she had just told me.

"My son," Mama whispered, "Terry, sweet little lad. I've done all I could to hide away your true nature but only a fool would believe that I have changed you for the better. Go my son; I see now that you have something to do. What unfinished business a child could have, I do not know, but you need time away. Just promise me one thing, Terry, that you will return home."

"Of course Mama…"

"Thief's honor?" The way her lips twisted into a wry smile, and how her eyes began to silently plead for me to stay, I knew that she understood better than I could have possibly fathomed.

I nodded. "Folk say there is no honor among thieves, Mama." I sounded so much older than I had in days. I could feel the grim set of my mouth and the focus of my eyes as I waited for her reply.
She smiled. "And to that I say,' honor among thieves is in their blood'. Now go, my son, just remember to come home… Preferably in one piece."

I felt a rush of love for my mama like never before and I wrapped my arms around her middle. "I love you, Mama." She stroked my hair and kissed my brow. I do not know how she knew the things she knew but I did not care. Picking up a new cloak that my mama spun, I hurried out into the darkened streets. As if on cue, a familiar looking stranger stepped forwards and said,"The King is waiting, my Prince."

Suddenly felt as if I was no longer a youth of eight years to my name. Straightening my back I said,"Take me to my King."

The stranger then stepped into the shadows and beckoned me to follow.

Description
Chapter Two: Thief's Honor
"Mama?" I said, as I slowly pushed open the door of the little ramshackle shack, I hoped that my mama would be home and well. It was almost a week ago that I had been knocked unconscious by the falling crates and secreted away to the Thief City. With Dusk's help, I left the underground labyrinth and it's sweltering, dimly lit tunnels and returned above ground under the cover of nightfall. Jasper told me that I was free to come and go as I pleased as long as I obeyed him when he summoned me to his side.

I stumbled a few painful steps into the one room shack, hearing nothing, I reached forwards to pull aside the woven blankets that mama used to give privacy. Upon pulling aside the first, I froze.

Mama was there with Mirage wrapped tightly to her chest, her head bowed low. She was kneeling beside my father's pallet where he spent most his days lying deathly still when he wasn't convulsing with blood-filled coughing fits. The healers said that they could do nothing for him except ease his pain, that his illness was not something that was not easily mended with magic especially with the damage it had already wrought on his body. But today, I heard no coughing nor did I see my father's shape tucked in the shadows.

I limped closer and with every stride I took the facts became clearer.

"He's gone, isn't he?" I asked softly.

Mama did not answer.

"When did he—" I couldn't bring myself to say 'die'.

My mama stood up but did not look my way. "He asked for you three morns ago. All these long years of senseless rambling and fevered nonsense and he finally comes to his senses when you are nowhere to be found. Why, Terry, why? Your father begged me to bring you to him, he even wept when I said you hadn't come home for some time. He finally fell over the edge, his heart giving out with grief."

"I-I'm sorry, mama."

She shuddered and snapped around to look straight at me, the very force of her gaze crushing. I've rarely seen my mama like this, her dark eyes swollen from crying and her pale face drawn taught with fury. I slowly lowered my hand away from the blanket that I had curled in my fingers and rested it on my bandaged arm. She looked older than her youthful two-hundred and some plus years.

It was frightening to see mama like this but she is of both gypsy and wild elf blood; her emotions as tumultuous as the winds of change and as powerful as the ancient forests of long ago where all things originated. With her crown of well-pinned dark-brown plaits tumbling down her back wildly, adding to the ancient savageness that danced in her gaze, she looked ready to dive into the fray of battle. But the silver threads that marked her dark locks revealed the sorrow and the weariness that lurked beneath her mask of fury.

She needed rest. Sleep would calm her.

"Mama, give me Mirage. I will watch her. You must take to bed or she and I will be without a mother if you make yourself ill," I did not know how I managed to sound to calm and resolute when I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees again and cry like an infant. Perhaps a week ago I might have. Mayhap, Jasper might have made me braver or a little bit stronger by breaking me. Like a bone, when broken my will had to heal stronger than before, harder to break, laced with freshly tempered steel so as to prevent future harm.

I caught my mama's gaze and held it, our matching eyes exchanging silent words that only a mother and her child could share. She lowered her eyes first and I saw her sigh raggedly in defeat.

"Terry," she said softly, "son, you have made me ill with worry already. Where have you been while your father asked for you? Where have you been when I searched the alleys and the homes of our neighbors, the thought of you being dead the only thought on my mind?"

"Shush, questions later, sleep now." As I reached out, my mama lifted Mirage from her chest and placed her in my arms.

Mama only stared at me for a long moment as if she could not believe that I was actually there, her gaze no longer filled with fire but rather cold emptiness. "You are a clever boy, my son. Always such a clever, darling boy. So intelligent, so able, so much like your father… If only you were less like me, less prone to wander and seek the answers most folk leave buried away." The affection her tone intermingled with disappointment, her face startlingly cold, almost impassive.

"I love you mama."

She smiled faintly then and replied dully, "But not enough to give up your ways."

"No mama," I told her sadly, "I love you too much to give up my ways. Now sleep mama. Mirage is quiet and I've reason to stay home a while. Perhaps a long while."

"No thieving?" She asked slowly, her voice filled with an inkling of hope.

"No thieving."

Mama then nodded and placed a cool hand on my cheek; she stared at me for only a second longer before she placed a kiss on my brow and slowly walked away. She looked like a ghost in her mourning gown. The somber white fabric moved with infinite grace every step she took; when she lifted her arm to brush back a faded wool blanket, ripples moved down from her elbow to her ankles as if someone had dropped a stone into a pail of milk and toppled it over.

Soon she disappeared behind the blanket, leaving me alone with Mirage and my own memories. Thinking not of what I said, I asked my baby sister if she want to hear a story to help her sleep. Of course, she said nothing but I still sat down cross-legged on my father's now empty pallet and began weaving a story of my own. A story of a boy who saw his future in a puddle and when he went to splash through it, he fell into that future world and found himself trying everything to get home. I'd never made up a story of my own before for telling others, but I think my first tale was suiting. It ended on a note harmonious to how I felt. The boy returns home man years later and learns that no one remembers him. Lost, the boy runs to find the puddle through which he re-entered the world to find it dried up.

Mirage did not seem to mind the sad ending for she slept soundly in my arms until the light of morning washed over the city, heralding the beginning of a new day.

***

For many days and nights, I stayed with my mama and my sister. Mama did not speak much but there was little that needed to be said. With the money she did not have to spend on my father's herbal elixir, she purchased extra wool to spin into thread and in turn, she wove new blankets to sell. I do not know how long I lived my life in a state of lull, where I simply did as my mama bade me.

However many days and nights that was --I realized soon that all could not remain that way.

Mama sent me to the market one morn, awkwardly carrying a bundle almost as long as I stood tall. A feeling niggled at me until I could stand it no more and I started to scan every face around me. I saw no one I knew as a threat but the lack of familiarity made me nervous. So many strangers from so many places, I almost forgot how I worked these streets among these very strangers only a few nights before.

Lowering my head, I slipped through the crowd, new thoughts nagging me like flies.

***

I've spent countless hours reading and reciting from the scripture that Mama brings me from the Goddess Temple. Sometimes she even gives me ink and paper to practice my script rather than chalk and slate. But I know that she sees my anxious fingers as I attempt to copy the vows and blessings, the quill in my hand quivers and the ink blots. I know she hears the hesitation in my voice as I make my prayers each night.

I know because I see it in her eyes when I try to find her approval.

Ever since that morn where I faltered and panicked in the market I knew that every time I gave prayers, I was lying to myself and to Mama. The streets called to me and the gypsy winds of change urged me to take flight. Only, I wanted so desperately to cling onto what I had found at last. But I learned quickly that I want does not matter in the end.

***

"…The Goddess gives me strength for I am her son and like all other children of her infinite grace and wisdom I—" At my hesitation, Mama nodded, her eyes sad. "I-I…" The words just could not leave my lips and I shook my head desperately. "I'm sorry Mama, I can't, I can't!"

To my surprise, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, "I know. I understand."

"You do?"

"Of course, my son, I knew that the temple and her ways did not call you. But can you blame me from trying to save you from yourself?"

"No Mama, I do not blame you…"

"It took me until now to realize that you do not need saving."

Startled, I looked her way, trying to understand what she had just told me.

"My son," Mama whispered, "Terry, sweet little lad. I've done all I could to hide away your true nature but only a fool would believe that I have changed you for the better. Go my son; I see now that you have something to do. What unfinished business a child could have, I do not know, but you need time away. Just promise me one thing, Terry, that you will return home."

"Of course Mama…"

"Thief's honor?" The way her lips twisted into a wry smile, and how her eyes began to silently plead for me to stay, I knew that she understood better than I could have possibly fathomed.

I nodded. "Folk say there is no honor among thieves, Mama." I sounded so much older than I had in days. I could feel the grim set of my mouth and the focus of my eyes as I waited for her reply.
She smiled. "And to that I say,' honor among thieves is in their blood'. Now go, my son, just remember to come home… Preferably in one piece."

I felt a rush of love for my mama like never before and I wrapped my arms around her middle. "I love you, Mama." She stroked my hair and kissed my brow. I do not know how she knew the things she knew but I did not care. Picking up a new cloak that my mama spun, I hurried out into the darkened streets. As if on cue, a familiar looking stranger stepped forwards and said,"The King is waiting, my Prince."

Suddenly felt as if I was no longer a youth of eight years to my name. Straightening my back I said,"Take me to my King."

The stranger then stepped into the shadows and beckoned me to follow.