seemed to be a large, loud man with a foaming mug in his hand, a bawdy song on his lips, and a feathered female on his arm.
My heart thumped and my insides felt like jelly. Lucinda Chapdelaine, what has come over you?
"Are you sure this is going to work?" I asked. "I've paid a lot for this training. I don't think I got enough practice."
"Too much practice makes you rigid," he said. "I work by instinct. Quick mind, quick eye, quick fingers. It's a way of thinking."
"I'm not used to that way of thinking," I grumbled.
Peter stopped and faced me severely. "If you want this 123
stone bad enough, you'll muster the right thinking whether you're used to it or not."
I nodded. He was right.
"Cheer up," he said, pressing forward once more. "If you're successful, I might let you work with me." He pointed through the throng. "Look. There he is."
124
Chapter 15
Unmistakably, there he was.
We were near the pavilion where the orchestra had played earlier that day. A group of gypsy musicians now occupied the stage, their music as wild and haunting as the other music had been ordered and smooth. There was still dancing going on, but not the gavotte. Women whirled, colored scarves trailing behind them like flaming serpents. Others clapped tambourines. Men stomped and clapped and shouted over the music.
The prince stood by a table loaded with food and drink, talking with a group of guards. At the sight of them my confidence, if I had any, drained away.
Gregor set his plate down on the table and dropped it, splattering a guard with sauce. The others shouted with laughter.
Peter crouched behind me, his breath tickling my ear. "He makes quite a Page 42
ABC Amber Sony Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcsonylrf.html
figure, doesn't he?" he asked
125
maliciously. "I can't go any closer than this. We can't have him see me. I'll be over there"--he indicated an abandoned stall some distance behind where we stood--"trying to keep your goat away from you. That's a bonus, by the way, for which I could charge extra. Don't say I've never done anything for you."
My rising panic reached a crest. I spun around and clutched his sleeve.
"Peter, I can't do this," I said.
He looked me straight in the eye. I found it hard to match his gaze.
"It's no skin off my nose whether you do or don't," he said. He patted his jingling pocket, swollen with Beryl's gold, then tapped my forehead sharply with his pointer finger. "But I say that you can. And you will." He smiled at me.
"You'll be watching, won't you?" I asked.
"Promise."
Only slightly relieved, I turned back for a glance at the prince, who was laughing with a guard.
His face sent a stab of longing through me.
I turned back to look at Peter, but he was already gone. I scanned around for him, or even for Dog, but saw no trace of either of them.
What's a thief's promise worth, anyway?
If I succeeded, Peter would get the rest of my gold. Or perhaps he'd simply slip away, content with half. It was
126
enough to make him a wealthy man, not to mention whatever price he'd gotten from Prince Gregor. Why did he dress so raggedly, and live on the streets? By what he'd collected in only a few days, he ought to live in comfort in an elegant townhouse.
One of Gregor's guards gestured toward a carriage. He might leave soon. By the looks of things, I didn't have long to try my new dramatic skills upon him.
Now or never. And if never, what would become of me? I took a first fearful step.
I felt naked without Peter. Each step forward was an effort. I cut a swath of silence through the chaos, as conversations stopped and white eyes stared from bearded faces at the unescorted young gentlewoman (if only they knew!) on the city streets after dark at the festival. Their curiosity mingled with contempt. They formed an impenetrable wall around me.
Suddenly reaching the prince felt like my best option. He was the one person I knew in this wild assembly--if our acquaintance could be called "knowing." I
My heart thumped and my insides felt like jelly. Lucinda Chapdelaine, what has come over you?
"Are you sure this is going to work?" I asked. "I've paid a lot for this training. I don't think I got enough practice."
"Too much practice makes you rigid," he said. "I work by instinct. Quick mind, quick eye, quick fingers. It's a way of thinking."
"I'm not used to that way of thinking," I grumbled.
Peter stopped and faced me severely. "If you want this 123
stone bad enough, you'll muster the right thinking whether you're used to it or not."
I nodded. He was right.
"Cheer up," he said, pressing forward once more. "If you're successful, I might let you work with me." He pointed through the throng. "Look. There he is."
124
Chapter 15
Unmistakably, there he was.
We were near the pavilion where the orchestra had played earlier that day. A group of gypsy musicians now occupied the stage, their music as wild and haunting as the other music had been ordered and smooth. There was still dancing going on, but not the gavotte. Women whirled, colored scarves trailing behind them like flaming serpents. Others clapped tambourines. Men stomped and clapped and shouted over the music.
The prince stood by a table loaded with food and drink, talking with a group of guards. At the sight of them my confidence, if I had any, drained away.
Gregor set his plate down on the table and dropped it, splattering a guard with sauce. The others shouted with laughter.
Peter crouched behind me, his breath tickling my ear. "He makes quite a Page 42
ABC Amber Sony Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcsonylrf.html
figure, doesn't he?" he asked
125
maliciously. "I can't go any closer than this. We can't have him see me. I'll be over there"--he indicated an abandoned stall some distance behind where we stood--"trying to keep your goat away from you. That's a bonus, by the way, for which I could charge extra. Don't say I've never done anything for you."
My rising panic reached a crest. I spun around and clutched his sleeve.
"Peter, I can't do this," I said.
He looked me straight in the eye. I found it hard to match his gaze.
"It's no skin off my nose whether you do or don't," he said. He patted his jingling pocket, swollen with Beryl's gold, then tapped my forehead sharply with his pointer finger. "But I say that you can. And you will." He smiled at me.
"You'll be watching, won't you?" I asked.
"Promise."
Only slightly relieved, I turned back for a glance at the prince, who was laughing with a guard.
His face sent a stab of longing through me.
I turned back to look at Peter, but he was already gone. I scanned around for him, or even for Dog, but saw no trace of either of them.
What's a thief's promise worth, anyway?
If I succeeded, Peter would get the rest of my gold. Or perhaps he'd simply slip away, content with half. It was
126
enough to make him a wealthy man, not to mention whatever price he'd gotten from Prince Gregor. Why did he dress so raggedly, and live on the streets? By what he'd collected in only a few days, he ought to live in comfort in an elegant townhouse.
One of Gregor's guards gestured toward a carriage. He might leave soon. By the looks of things, I didn't have long to try my new dramatic skills upon him.
Now or never. And if never, what would become of me? I took a first fearful step.
I felt naked without Peter. Each step forward was an effort. I cut a swath of silence through the chaos, as conversations stopped and white eyes stared from bearded faces at the unescorted young gentlewoman (if only they knew!) on the city streets after dark at the festival. Their curiosity mingled with contempt. They formed an impenetrable wall around me.
Suddenly reaching the prince felt like my best option. He was the one person I knew in this wild assembly--if our acquaintance could be called "knowing." I
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