Larkspur Mittel: The Lark & Owl Trilogy

6 - Not A Lark Whistle

The afternoon market was nearly closed. Hero had run the whole way, and was now out of breath. 

She slowed and dodged the sellers who were still flogging their wares. Everything from dried fish, to ripened muscat, to cures for aching elbows, to charms. Larks from the Northern District haggled, while their maids waited patiently behind, loaded down with their purchases. Some owl and lark families lingered, closing up their stalls, while their children played in the square. A few Hummerlads sat at a food stall, demanded drinks, and grabbed at the girls who served them. Instinctively, Hero turned down another path when she saw them.

Seeing the bustle in the market place, nobody would ever think that 'something was afoot,' thought Hero. She stopped to catch her breath, and looked up towards the sun which was dropping lower. She tightened her satchel strap across her shoulder, and for the umpteenth time undid the clasp and felt for the globe. It lay snug between her sketchbook and a bread roll. 

Master of a dark winter, she heard old Pushba's words.

She looked carefully around the market place again, while eating her roll. With the exception of the Hummerlads, the King's frightening new enforcers, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

They are just the messengers. 

She picked up her pace again, and walked quickly. Just a few more rows of stalls, and she'd be in the Southern District, and then she'd have to ask for directions from some unsuspecting owl. 

She reached out to snatch a handful of almonds as she rounded a fruit stall- she couldn't resist, there was nobody in sight, and old habits die hard she thought- when someone grabbed her wrist. 

She dropped the almonds, and looked up. 

"Well look who it is, a little thieving lark from the WC! You're loosing your touch Hero."

Croo Mickel tightened his grip on Hero's wrist. A few of his moll boys lingered behind and sniggered.

"Let me go!"  Hero tried to twist away. 

"Be nice, Hero. After all, I'm not the one stealing food. You know the new penalty for stealing now, don't you? A finger for an almond, a tooth for a pomegranate."

"Since when do you quote the law?! The last I heard you were cheating owls on the price of peat!" Hero snapped back. 

It was true, Croo had been involved in a price-cheating scandal, but for some reason while all the others involved had gone to the gaol house for a few months, he had evaded punishment.

He bent her arm behind her back so that she couldn't move, and breathed heavily down her neck.

"Oh right. Dumb old owls. Say Hero, where are your wings? Thought you would've had some now that you've gone all goody-goody."

"Let go of me!" 

"You wouldn't be interested in joining us?," his voice lowered, "we're going to a party in the Northern District. Might be something in it for you, just like old times, a job maybe."

Hero was frightened. He was hurting her now, as the other boys just stood there watching. The few people who'd been nearby had vanished quickly.

"I'd never do one of your lousy jobs! You're hurting me! Let go of my arm!" Hero tried to kick him. 

She didn't want to let go of her satchel, and gripped it with her free hand.

"Be nice Hero, you may need a friend one day soon," Croo spoke into her ear. 

Hero squirmed, but he still held her close.

"What do you have in your bag anyway?" 

He dropped her arm and yanked away her satchel by the strap. The moll boys laughed again.