prevented her from crying out. On her first breath she gagged, an overpowering stench of apples covering her skin and clothing. It was instantly recognisable.
Someone nearby laughed cruelly.
“She’s awake,” another said.
She sat up and tried to move her hands, but found they were bound together at the wrists. Her feet were likewise restrained.
Ropes! Not ropes.
She struggled as hard as she was able, until the cords were burning her skin.
Finally, and to the laughter of her onlookers who were too numerous for her to count accurately, she fell back to the ground, exhausted.
“Straven wanted you dead, you know. He gave you to us.” Sheheard a man’s voice that she didn’t recognise, yet his words brought back a memory.
For she had only seen Straven that morning, an hour before dawn.
Now I remember. It’s all coming back.
Straven. The thief master of Varrock, in charge of the Phoenix Gang. She had first met him only a week ago, when she and her brother had proposed their plan to him, and he had given his permission for them to carry it out. Then, after making more money than they had ever possessed, they had tried to run. She had been taken within the first hour, and then she had been beaten. But what of her brother?
Jack! Did they capture you, too? Oh, gods...
“It’s true, you do look quite like her,” the man continued. “You could be a younger sister, two or three years maybe. You’re a head shorter than her, though, and little more than a rag doll. Your eyes are different, too. Straven didn’t tell me how much you conned from that crowd at the Flying Donkey, but when he caught you trying to run with his share, he wanted to roll you down a steep hill in a barrel of apples. Apparently that’s one of his ways of dealing with disloyalty. The severity of the treachery determines the height and inclination of the drop. Some are dropped in the River Lum, whereas particularly vile offenders have been sealed in their barrels in his cellar, with apples enough to last them a month.”
She felt someone’s breath on her face. As the man laughed, she felt his spittle on her cheek. She grimaced, and he laughed again.
“I am told that the smell when they are brought out is truly horrendous. I believe only one man has ever survived a full month, and he was mad and so near death that they cut his throat as a mercy.
“I am telling you this so you understand your position. Straven gave you to me after my messenger persuaded him that I could use you. He put you in a half-filled barrel of apples, and you were brought to me in a cart from the city.”
I am not in Varrock, then? Where am I?
“So you have a choice, thief. You are uniquely placed to help me get my revenge.” There was a pause before he continued. “I don’t know how yet, but there will be a way to use you to my advantage.”
She felt hands at the back of her head, untying the knot to the cord in her mouth. It fell loose and she gave a desperate gasp.
But she didn’t try to scream. She knew how pointless that would be.
“Where is my brother?” she said urgently. “Where is Jack? Did Straven take him, too?”
“Your brother? I know nothing of him,” the voice spat. A moment later, it continued. “Keep her ankles and wrists bound for now, and give her a bath. She smells like a rotting orchard.”
She was picked up roughly and carried a short distance. She knew from the sound of footsteps that she was inside a building—a spacious one, though she couldn’t guess any more.
“The water’s cold,” a man taunted as she was dropped into a shallow trough. She gasped as the freezing liquid engulfed her, and water filled her mouth. Her arms beneath her, she fought to push upward and get her mouth above the surface. Finally she succeeded, coughing and retching to the sound of laughter and applause.
“No! Wait! Please!” she shouted as a hand forced her head beneath the water again.
Where it remained. Firm. Unmoving.
This is it. I’m
Someone nearby laughed cruelly.
“She’s awake,” another said.
She sat up and tried to move her hands, but found they were bound together at the wrists. Her feet were likewise restrained.
Ropes! Not ropes.
She struggled as hard as she was able, until the cords were burning her skin.
Finally, and to the laughter of her onlookers who were too numerous for her to count accurately, she fell back to the ground, exhausted.
“Straven wanted you dead, you know. He gave you to us.” Sheheard a man’s voice that she didn’t recognise, yet his words brought back a memory.
For she had only seen Straven that morning, an hour before dawn.
Now I remember. It’s all coming back.
Straven. The thief master of Varrock, in charge of the Phoenix Gang. She had first met him only a week ago, when she and her brother had proposed their plan to him, and he had given his permission for them to carry it out. Then, after making more money than they had ever possessed, they had tried to run. She had been taken within the first hour, and then she had been beaten. But what of her brother?
Jack! Did they capture you, too? Oh, gods...
“It’s true, you do look quite like her,” the man continued. “You could be a younger sister, two or three years maybe. You’re a head shorter than her, though, and little more than a rag doll. Your eyes are different, too. Straven didn’t tell me how much you conned from that crowd at the Flying Donkey, but when he caught you trying to run with his share, he wanted to roll you down a steep hill in a barrel of apples. Apparently that’s one of his ways of dealing with disloyalty. The severity of the treachery determines the height and inclination of the drop. Some are dropped in the River Lum, whereas particularly vile offenders have been sealed in their barrels in his cellar, with apples enough to last them a month.”
She felt someone’s breath on her face. As the man laughed, she felt his spittle on her cheek. She grimaced, and he laughed again.
“I am told that the smell when they are brought out is truly horrendous. I believe only one man has ever survived a full month, and he was mad and so near death that they cut his throat as a mercy.
“I am telling you this so you understand your position. Straven gave you to me after my messenger persuaded him that I could use you. He put you in a half-filled barrel of apples, and you were brought to me in a cart from the city.”
I am not in Varrock, then? Where am I?
“So you have a choice, thief. You are uniquely placed to help me get my revenge.” There was a pause before he continued. “I don’t know how yet, but there will be a way to use you to my advantage.”
She felt hands at the back of her head, untying the knot to the cord in her mouth. It fell loose and she gave a desperate gasp.
But she didn’t try to scream. She knew how pointless that would be.
“Where is my brother?” she said urgently. “Where is Jack? Did Straven take him, too?”
“Your brother? I know nothing of him,” the voice spat. A moment later, it continued. “Keep her ankles and wrists bound for now, and give her a bath. She smells like a rotting orchard.”
She was picked up roughly and carried a short distance. She knew from the sound of footsteps that she was inside a building—a spacious one, though she couldn’t guess any more.
“The water’s cold,” a man taunted as she was dropped into a shallow trough. She gasped as the freezing liquid engulfed her, and water filled her mouth. Her arms beneath her, she fought to push upward and get her mouth above the surface. Finally she succeeded, coughing and retching to the sound of laughter and applause.
“No! Wait! Please!” she shouted as a hand forced her head beneath the water again.
Where it remained. Firm. Unmoving.
This is it. I’m
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