As the sun creeps across the clear sky the stock levels fall. Trade is good once again, and the people of Solita fill the streets. Working up a sweat, Tyn rushes between urgent customers at the cart and the remaining stock at the rear of the storage hold.
“Tyn, slow down,” says Badon. “These people are not going anywhere, the quicker the supply the quicker the demand.”
“Yes, father,” says Tyn.
As the two of them are serving customers, there is a small crash as a crate falls to the ground inside the storage hold. Badon glances over his shoulder before almost immediately returning his attention to the customer. Moments pass before once again a tumbling sound rings out from the hold.
“Tyn, check the stock,” says Badon, glancing over his shoulder once more.
Tyn finishes serving his customer and steps into the hold. He picks up a small crate, looking around the darkened room, in search of any sign of unstable fixing, or broken crate framing. Tyn returns the fallen crate to its frame hole and scurries back to the cart.
“We thank you for your custom,” says Badon before turning to Tyn. “Anything?”
Tyn curls his bottom lip and shakes his head before both of them turn sharply towards yet another noise in the hold. They step carefully towards the dark doorway, as customers peer past them in an attempt to discover what it is that demands their trader’s full attention.
“Hey! You can’t just take that! Thief!” cries one of the customers, as she reaches toward the arm of a cloaked figure.
Badon glances at the mirror above the door to the hold before he turns and rushes towards the cart. As he catches a glimpse of the thief darting into the street, Badon leaps around the cart to give chase.
“Stop!” cries Badon. “Stop right there you filthy thief!”
Tyn rushes back to the cart just in time to see his father disappear into the crowd. “Fadhal, watch my cart!” says Tyn as he hurries by a tall slender trader, slapping his hand on his back as he passes.
“Sure,” says Fadhal quietly, “I don’t mind running your business for you. No Problem!”
Tyn hurries up the steps onto the mezzanine balcony above the traders in the main road. As he runs beside the golden sandstone balustrades, the distance between the thief and Badon increases by the second. Tyn stops, he watches as the thief turns and runs towards the new blocks in the East sector. Again Tyn bursts into a sprint, scurrying down the steps on the other side of the mezzanine and disappearing into the side streets.
Badon gasps for breath, leaning over and resting his heavy hands on his weary knees. As he stands tall, inhaling deeply, Badon catches sight of Tyn, as he races down a narrow street and disappears beyond the surrounding blocks.
“Move-move! Watch out! Move!” cries Tyn, as he darts through the crowd.
The thief looks over their shoulder, then leaps into the air landing on the wooden shade of a trade stall.
“What mockery is this!” says Tyn, his mouth hung open, as he watches the thief leap from one stall to the next. Suddenly, Tyn slams into a large burly man and tumbles to the ground. As quickly as he falls, Tyn is back on his feet. “My fault Sorry,” he shouts over his shoulder before catching sight of the escaping thief in the distance.
The thief scurries around the corner of the milling block, skidding to a stop. Deterred by the shadow of a wall standing at least six storeys tall, the thief slowly removes her hood. As she stands perplexed, surprised by this new addition to her familiar route out of the town centre, the sound of pounding feet brings an end to her inanimate reverie. She turns sharply as Tyn skids into the alley.
“I have you,” says Tyn, gasping for breath.
As he peers into the young girl’s eyes, she steps back slowly, her eyes dancing around the alley, until she looks skyward. There’s no way out, the walls of the surrounding blocks have no windows. The yellow stone is smooth and uninterrupted from top to bottom.
“I didn’t take much, please, you must let me go,” says the girl, pulling her hood over her head.
Tyn tilts his brow, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Do I know you?”
The girl steps back into the deep shadow of the block. Tyn steps towards her, his chest still billowed by fatigue. “Just hand it over, whatever you took, and I’ll tell my father you dropped it and got away.”
The girl frowns, although her reaction is barely visible in the dark corner of the dead end. “Why, why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” asks Tyn.
“Just let me go, please.”
“Then hand it over,” says Tyn, holding out his open hand, as he takes another step forward.
“I can’t,” says the girl.
“What? Why not? What did you take?” asks Tyn.
“Two pappe fruits and some Gonua seeds.”
“Gonua? And do you still have them?”
“Yes, but, I’m not, I can’t, you wouldn’t understand! Please, just get out of my way!”
“If you don’t hand them over I will have to explain to my father why I let you get away. I cannot do that, nor can I lie to him. So you have a choice, either you hand them over, or I take you to Arn Guard.”
Tyn lowers his hand to his side, the aggressive intent embedded in his brow is quelled by the sound of sharp breaths and sniffling. “Are you crying?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“I bet,” says Tyn quietly. “Are you all right?”
“He left me no choice.”
“What are you talking about?” asks Tyn. “I don’t have time for this, I must get back to the cart.” He takes another step forward, widening his stance and folding his arms. “Hand them over now, or…”
Tyn is interrupted by a sudden gust of wind, as the girl leaps into the air and propels herself from one side of the alley to the other, gracefully scaling the walls until she reaches the very top.
“How did she… She must be…” says Tyn under his breath, staring up at the girl, with his mouth hung open.
The girl turns around and leans over the edge of the block. She looks down at Tyn for a moment, almost apologetically turning her head to one side before she quickly disappears.
You cannot copy content of this page