The Silver Crown

49.

When I was five years old, I broke my right arm. This was a month before my mother didn't come home. My real mother who had been nothing like a mother.

My mother was an entertainer, a tumbler. She was fairly good, although not good enough to be invited to the halls of noblemen and women to perform. She performed in an eating-house or along the street with different groups of men and women.

It wasn't a very secure job and when she did make money, she often spent it with her friends or on a new dress instead of remembering her young daughter at home. Still, the morning she didn't come home, I was scared. She often was late coming home in the mornings and it always made me nervous. By evening though, I knew something had to be wrong. I held on to hope though, however slim it was.

Three days later, the landlord came, took all of our belongings and kicked me out onto the street. My arm was still wrapped in a dirty cast and a sling still hung from my neck.

I had broken it running after a friend from down the way. My friend, Mattes, was three years older and much bigger and much faster than me. He allowed me to hang out with him and his other friends because I was funny, easy to pick on and make fun of, and because no matter how many times they told me to stay away and knocked me down and tried to ditch me, I always came back. I was like a stray cat; impossible to get rid of once you'd fed it once.

So Mattes was going to go with his friends to steal a pastry from Mistress Anna. She always had a stall up in the market. She was a mean old woman and the boys liked to harass her. I had tagged along despite the jabs sent my way. But when we had gone to steal pastries, I had given us away. I'm a much better thief now.

The boys were angry. They held me up over the river, threatening to drop me. The entire time they debated whether they could get more coppers selling me to the slavers or selling me to the man who made dumplings on Ricket lane. When they grew bored of that, they left me on the side of the river—terrified and sobbing—and took off.

I had quickly wiped away the clean tear tracks down my dirty cheeks and hurried after them. Turning a corner, I tripped over a beggar's body and fell on my arm, breaking it instantly. The boys thought I was just being a wimp, so they kept going. I walked home, more tears cascading out of my eyes.

I waited half a day, my arm swelling up until it looked like a sausage that someone made way too large, until my ma came home. She told me that I had just fallen on it and that it'd be better tomorrow. She wrapped my arm in spare rags to help the swelling go down.

Three days later, when nothing had changed and I couldn't use it without whimpering in pain or breaking out into sobs, she finally sucked it up, gathered some coppers and took me to the cheapest healer money could buy.

The healer set the bone, gave me charms and re-wrapped it, also whispering some spell over the arm. She showed me how to tie a cloth to make a sling. It cost five coppers.

When we left, Ma slapped me so hard that the red imprint of her hand was on my cheek for three hours. "We can't afford to have you doing stupid things and getting injured. Next time, I'm throwing you out on the street. You can beg for the money to go to a healer to get it set."

Three weeks later, she didn't come home again.

~

When I woke up, I immediately was wracked with pain. My arm definitely hurt the worst. I struggled to sit up and then pulled myself over to the wall. I rested my head back against it and closed my eyes, exhaling loudly.

"Kade?" a voice interrupted my pain and I opened my eyes slowly. Maisa was in the cell next to me and she was gazing at me with worried eyes.

When she saw that I was looking at her she asked, "Did they make it?"