We walked uphill towards Tarnto Street. Even if I never learned a single spell, I reflected, I would emerge from the Academy with legs like steel.

  A small form darted from an alley and snatched at my purse. I let it fall off my shoulder and snapped a leash around a pair of dirty legs. A young boy began to run and then sprawled face down on the cobbles. Aelyn lifted my purse, dusted it off, and grinned. I fastened a small spell to the boy’s back.

  “Lemme go!” He was struggling to climb to his feet.

  “Sure,” I said, “rough luck, running into that piece of cord.”

  He scowled at me. I estimated his age at nine. Ribs showed through a ripped shirt, and his hair was uncombed and ragged.

  “Need a meal?” I asked. “We have some leftovers at home.”

  He licked his lips, then shook his head. He began to back away.

  “I’m Circe,” I said, “and this is my friend, Aelyn.”

  He turned and ran.

  “Skittish,” I said, “give him a minute, and we’ll follow.”

  “He’ll go to ground and we’ll never find him amongst these buildings."

  “Not so,” I said, “he’s carrying a tracking spell.”

  A quarter trek later, we were picking our way through a vacant lot. Dirt and debris were piled in heaps, and I caught a glimpse of a predatory lizard stalking an insect. Ahead was a derelict building that might have been a factory or warehouse. Now it was half-collapsed, windows shattered and doors askew. Through a casement at the foot of the structure, I saw a flicker of orange.

  “I’m going to veil us,” I said.

  We slipped through a fractured doorway and paused in the dim light to let our eyes adjust. I picked out a stairway that led downwards and pointed it out. Aelyn nodded and padded forward, hand on blade, and crouched at the top. He listened for a tock and then scanned around our floor before motioning me to follow him.

  As we crept down the stair, I noted that it bore a few small footprints. At the bottom I heard the murmur of voices, and we proceeded to the adjacent room. The building was cold and damp.

  A cluster of children stood around a small fire. Others stood along the wall, clasping themselves against the chill. A single pot was suspended over the blaze, and an older child was stirring the contents. Two other children sat swathed in blankets near the fire; one was shivering, and other had his head bowed. Our acquaintance from the street perched on a slab of stone, head in hands.

  The cook scooped a cup through the pot and offered it to the sick child.

  “Tara,” she said, “you need to eat. Have some soup.”

  “I ain’t hungry.”

  “You got the grippe. You gotta eat to fix it.”

  The child shook her head. “I can’t eat no more wall lizards. They’re foul.”

  The kid from the street raised his head. His cheeks were streaked with tears.

  “I’m sorry, Crylla. If I’d got that lady’s purse, we’d have sausage buns.”

  The older girl glared at him. “You’re nuts, Frond. If you get caught, you go to the mines. Ain’t no coming back from there.”

  “And we’re coming back from here?”

  The children were silent.

  I stepped forward and dropped the veil. There was a shocked silence, and the cook raised her spoon and stood between me and the seated children. I knelt and opened my purse. I pulled out a handful of silver and laid the coins one after the other on the floor.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Frond,” I said, “will this be enough to buy buns for everyone here?”

  “You followed me.”

  “Sure. How else could I find you?”

  He stared at me, and then the silver. He rubbed his face and shrugged.

  “Why don’t you gimme a gold?”

  “Because if a shopkeeper sees you with a gold, he’ll think you stole it. Silver, not so much.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “How you know I’m not gonna run?”

  “Because you care for your friends.”

  The older girl glared at me. “How do we know you’re not with the Watch?” Her gaze set on Aelyn. “He looks like a guard.”

  “Does not,” piped up a voice. “He’s an elf. Ain’t none of them in the Watch.”

  “Gotta sword,” said another. “Watch got swords.”

  “So do the nobles. Hell, anyone can carry one.”

  “Is it real?” asked the second. He emerged from the shadows, and limped closer to Aelyn. He stared at the blade.

  Aelyn slid the sword from its scabbard, knelt, and laid it on his left palm, cutting edge away from the boy.

  “Do you want to hold it?”

  The child stared at him mistrustfully, then sidled up. He looked up at my lover and reached out slowly. He picked up the blade with both hands and grunted.

  “It’s heavy.”

  “You get used to it,” said Aelyn.

  The boy reluctantly lowered the blade, and Aelyn slid it back into its place. The child’s eyes followed the motion.

  “What happened to your leg?” I asked.

  “Cut it on a rock. Went bad.”

  “Can I see it? I’m a Healer.”

  Their leader snorted. “You a Mage? Sure.”

  I nodded. “And Aelyn is my Blade.”

  The child in front of Aelyn looked at him.

  “You can trust her,” Aelyn said.

  The child limped over and sat down. I reached over slowly, trying not to spook him, and pulled up the pant leg. It was torn and lifted away from the wound easily. The infected laceration responded quickly to my spell. The child stood up and rested his weight on the leg. Then he walked in a small circle. He stopped, stepped in front of me, placed his hand in front of his chest, and bowed awkwardly. I blinked tears from my eyes.

  “Frond,” I said, “are you going to sit there all night?”

  By the time the food had arrived, I had treated a multitude of cuts, bruises, infections, and one ear obstructed with wax. Three small fireballs were warming the cellar with a soft yellow light, and the children no longer shivered.

  “Why are you helping us?” It was the older girl.

  “I’m Circe,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “You gonna use it against me?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “Generally, if I want to argue with someone, I just toss fireballs around.”

  “Huh.” She thought for a moment. “Crylla.”

  “Well, Crylla, you needed help. And the Goddess tells me that I must help people. So here I am.”

  “We’re doing alright on our own.”

  “No, you’re not.” I closed my eyes against the burn of tears. “Crylla, you are trying so hard. But your friends are sick, and hungry, and cold. That’s not right.”

  “Lotta things ain’t right. They happen.” She watched me. “What do you want from us?”

  I looked at Aelyn, and he shrugged. “I warned you, love. These things flow both ways.”

  I sighed and leaned back against a wall and looked around the hall. Full of street kids who…

  “Crylla,” I said slowly, “How would it be if I hired you and your friends?”

  Some of the other children were gathering around us, chewing on a collection of buns, rolls, and sweets.

  “Doing what?”

  “I’m trying to track some bad people,” I said. “They know me and my Blade, but—”

  “Ain’t gonna see us,” said Frond. I was not sure how he could speak around the sausage crammed into his mouth.

  “What do we get?” asked Crylla.

  I looked around. “A warm place to stay. Beds. Hot meals. And—” I blinked, “—some care.”

  Crylla looked about the room. The children shuffled, muttered, and then began to nod.

  “We’re gonna need a name,” said Frond.

  “A name?”

  “We’re a gang. So, we need a name.”

  “Ah.” I thought. “I think…the Tarnto Street Irregulars.”

  “Yeah.” Even Crylla was nodding. She looked at me. “When my mother was—” She stopped. “She had a picture of the Goddess. It looked a lot like you.”

  “The Goddess is with all of us, Crylla. Just ask her.”

  “When did you learn that tracking spell?” asked Aelyn. He was washing my back, and I was purring shamelessly.

  “They showed it to us today in the concealment seminar. We were to work on it for next month.”

  “You are terrifying.” His hands began to drift around to my chest.

  “Should we check on the kids tonight?” I asked.

  “When we were children,” Aelyn said, “every summer a family of korcha would nest in a tree near one of the balconies by the gardens.”

  “Korcha?”

  “A small flying lizard. Very colourful, agile, and rather shy. We would try to train the fledglings to come for food once they could fly. Leave out a little every day, and each time, we would sit closer to their treat.”

  “How close did they come?”

  “By the end of the summer, they would perch on my hand. But it took much patience. If one ever rushed the process, they would take fright and never return.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. He picked up the soap and began to wash my breasts.

  “That is not my back.”

  “And that is a problem because?”

  I growled and pressed back against him. “No—no problem.” One of his hands slipped lower. “Oh. That’s good, too.” I spread my thighs to grant access. “If you turn around, I can—”

  His fingers began to circle my clitoris slowly. I stiffened and choked off a scream as my pelvic muscles began to contract spasmodically. Finally, I slumped back against him, supported only by his arms clasping my hips and chest.

  “Towel,” I said.

  He lifted me up and deposited me on my feet, then dried me off. I took his hand and led him into the bedroom. He lay sat on the bed and reached for me, but I pushed him backwards and crouched between his legs.

  “My turn,” I said, and lowered my head.