Sisters in Arms

2

Rilla POV

I sat stubbornly with my knees brought up to my chest, listening to the wind whip around my ears and the hustle and bustle of the slums below, as they continued their Summer Solstice celebrations. The roof I was sitting on was the roof of the guardhouse, where the Castle guards sat when they weren't 'trying to keep those filthy slummers under control'. I suppose I almost liked sitting up there, since it was the only building in the whole of the slums that was guaranteed not to fall down in a cloud of rotting wood and dust while I was perched precariously on the roof.

It was cold out, but that had never really bothered me. Growing up, I had been the youngest, with eight older brothers, all bigger and stronger than I was, so I had been left with the remains of everything they didn't want. It didn't bother me, though. I could beat them all in a swordfight now. Or anything to do with weapons, running, or hiding, as a matter of fact. I was a quick learner, and had taught myself everything I knew.

I ran a hand through my short brown hair, as the wind had blown it madly out of place. I had given myself a pixie cut a long time ago trying to fit in with my brothers, and with my oddly diamond-shaped face, huge, chocolate brown eyes and annoyingly big slightly-but -not-really-that-pointy-but-everyone-says-so ears which stuck out from my hair, and tiny stature, I looked more like an elf than a human. My hands were very spindly, they could have belonged to an eight-year-old child, but what I lacked in height and weight I would like to think I made up for in skill and courage.

As I sat on the roof, curled up into a tiny ball to preserve heat, a pigeon fluttered down and landed a few feet away from me. Slowly, so not to startle it, I turned my head and took a look. It seemed quite a plump little thing, well fed, with a decent amount of meat on it. It would make an excellent meal for Summer Solstice night, I murmured. Better than anything you could get in the slums. Animals tended to stay away from slummers, since nine times out of ten we would catch it, cook it, and eat it. Which was what I was planning on doing with this poor pigeon.

Staying seated, I slowly reached for my bow, and pulled an arrow from the little quiver on my back. I tended more to be more of a swordsman than a bowman, but I had started carrying the bow and quiver since it meant I had more chance of catching meals.

I pulled back, aimed, and loosed a shot from sitting, just as the pigeon took flight and fluttered off. I cursed, jumping up to retrieve my arrow, as the stupid bird settled itself on another rooftop a few metres away. Determined not to let a decent meal slip by me, I followed it, balancing along rickety drainpipes and avoiding holes in ceilings, until I was literally just a few feet away again. Not wanting to trust my bow skills this time, I unsheathed my little dagger and pounced. It was over very quickly, and I was left with bloody hands and dinner for the night. I didn't pity the bird. It should have known better. All the rest of the animals kept away all right, even the rats, and besides, I knew I was going to eat well tonight, providing I got it past my brothers. Which was easier said than done.

As I climbed down two storeys to ground level again, I saw a note tied to the leg of my dinner. Finding a candlelight from a window along the murky street, I opened it up and read it. My knowledge of words wasn't entirely accurate, but this was what I thought it said.

"Please, I need your help. For the sake of the Kingdom, meet below the eastern watchtower of Castle Iscarion on the stroke of midnight three days from now. Come alone."

I frowned. This was wierd. Why would anyone ask me to try and save the Kingdom? Be at the Eastern Watchtower at midnight three days from now? What was this? Had I just intercepted a messenger pigeon? Oops, I thought, feeling a tiny bit guilty.

I thought about the note all of the way home. There were two rooms in our little shack, one for me and my mother, the other for my brothers. I slipped through the other room into mine, holding the pigeon triumphantly.

"We'll eat well tonight!" I announced to my mother, who was sitting hunched over in the corner by the little fire we had, keeping warm.

"Good girl, Amaryllis" she murmured, taking the pigeon and my little dagger from me with her frail little hands, preparing to cook the pigeon. Amaryllis was my real name, but I preferred to go by Rilla. It was altogether snappier.

"Your brothers are out at the Flytrap again" my mother added weakly. The Flytrap was the closest to a tavern us slummers got, so I knew my brothers wouldn't be back for a long time.

I slumped down on my sack-bed and took out the note again. It interested me. I decided that, in three days time, I would go and see what all the fuss was about.