The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [13]
That threat of further crippling made Two-Fingers step back into the shadows. After he'd lost the half of his hand while working with his fisherman father, Two-Fingers had been thrown out of the house. There were eight other kids in the household to feed, and having a cripple around wasn't going to improve the family's lot any.
Cerril took a step, going after the other boy. "Say it, Two-Fingers," he ordered again. "Say it or I'll make you sorry."
Two-Fingers backed up against the wall, trapped between a pile of refuse and a nearly full slop bucket from the bathhouse on one side of the alley. He swallowed hard.
"You can," Two-Fingers whispered hoarsely. "You can scare more than that."
His eyes flicked nervously from Cerril's face to the knife in his hand.
Cerril knew the other boys gazed on in naked excitement. Nothing held their interest more than violence, especially when it was directed at someone else.
"Cerril," Kerrin called out in an anxious whisper. "There's your sister."
The other boy's words drew Cerril's attention. He gave Two-Fingers a quick, cold smile.
"Just you mark my words, Two-Fingers. I'm not going to put up with being questioned."
"I won't question you again, Cerril. I swear."
Two-Fingers touched his maimed hand to his chest. Most of his pride and spirit had gone with those missing fingers, and his father kicking him out of the house had robbed the tall boy of whatever hadn't been taken by the accident.
"If you do," Cerril said, unable to leave it alone, "you'll be back to hiring yourself out to them old sailors."
Two-Fingers's face flushed with rage and shame. All that had been a year ago, before Cerril had accepted him into their group. No one ever spoke of that time again. At least, not to Two-Fingers's face. Cerril didn't allow it.
In the beginning, Two-Fingers had been deathly loyal to Cerril for letting him join the gang. It meant he got to eat without selling himself. The other boys stole food from their own homes and brought it to him in the streets. Cerril had established that routine as well. As hard as he was on them, Cerril also took care of them.
"Cerril," Kerrin called again. He waved frantically. "It's your sister."
Blowing out an irritated breath, Cerril turned from Two-Fingers and quickly joined Kerrin at the front of the alley again. He pressed himself against the wall and hid in the shadows.
"So do you think this man has gold?" Hekkel asked again.
Cerril resisted the impulse to cuff the younger boy again. Hekkel's thoughts invariably turned to gold. Before he'd been slain by a thief, Hekkel's father had been a jeweler in Alaghфn's Merchant District. When Hekkel's father was alive, the family lived in a fine house, and members of the Assembly of Stars-the freely elected ruling body of Turmish-had shopped there. That was six years ago, and Hekkel's family had discovered that the city wasn't generous to widows and half-grown children. Hekkel remained convinced that gold could change someone's life. He was living proof that not having it could change fives, too.
As for himself, Cerril knew that having gold only changed a person's life as long as that person had gold and spent it freely. Gold seldom came his way, but he took the coppers and the occasional silver without complaint. Unfortunately, coppers and the occasional silver spent quickly.
"Do you see your sister?" Hekkel asked from behind Cerril.
"Yes," Cerril growled. "Now shut up before I have Two-Fingers bust your nose for you." He said the last because he knew it would give Two-Fingers back some of bis self-respect and standing among the group.
"Just let me know when you need it done, Cerril," Two-Fingers offered. "Ill smash the little bastard's nose good _ and proper."
Cerril ignored them, seeking out Imareen at the back of Elkor's Brazen Trumpet just across the broad cobblestone street leading down to the docks and shipyards.