Nobody knew how his pa had wound up in the harbor that night. Oh, there was plenty of speculation, to be sure. Towards the end, you’d have been hard-pressed to find someone in Low Town that hadn’t seen his pa stumbling through the alleys at all hours of the night raving about vengeful gods and the curse they’d laid on him.
The Curse of the Cup, most folks had termed it. Brenton Sol’Magor certainly hadn’t been the only man to shoulder such a sad fate, but he’d been among the loudest. Most men were considerate enough to find a dark hole to crawl into until the poison they drank yellowed their skin and stilled their hearts. Once gone, the only memories they left behind were ones that had been soured by the booze they’d wallowed in.
Not his pa, though. Not him. Even after Dalthan graduated from street rat to cat burglar, the fine folk of Low Town took every opportunity to regale Dal with some fantastic tale that Brenton had starred in. It felt like everyone had a story about his father being strong as an ox or fast as a sailfish. Each story was wildly embellished and they all casually glossed over the bouts of rage that had consumed Brenton over the last eight years of his life. Everyone spoke as if the man who’d beaten young Dal black and blue had been some kind of lovable mascot.
Maybe that’s why he took so poorly to the only foster home he’d ever had. From the first day that a dazed Dalthan had walked in the door, his mother’s aunt had peppered him with stories like a blind cook trying to season a roast. With each fond memory she shared, he’d conversely grown more and more reticent. The kindly old widower had assumed that Dalthan withdrew from sadness, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The young boy was angry. Furious. Everywhere he turned, someone was trying to tell him about the man who’d managed to drown himself in Clearwater Bay. They hadn’t even fucking known him.
That was all in the past. Ancient history, as some might say. Now, Dalthan found himself staring at a young boy about the same age as he’d been when Great Aunt Ima had changed the locks and tossed him out onto the street. He couldn’t help wondering if this kid had been pushed out on his own as well.
Though, after watching the disgusting little ankle-biter eat a booger, Dalthan was skeptical about the two of them sharing any common ground.
“Nice to meet you, Jack.” Dalthan said, his voice smooth as satin. Standing waist-deep in the gently flowing stream, the thief made no move to approach the boy while he spoke. “You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself. Do your parents know where you’re at?”
The rogue’s disarming smile was at odds with the sharpness of his emerald eyes as they flickered up and down the opposite riverbank. He had no intention of being caught off guard the way he had been with the orc’s arrival. Dal blamed Keysha for that lapse. He’d been busy planning to murder Zaplixel. Expecting the [Sharpshooter] to keep watch while he stabbed the prick wizard shouldn’t have been too much to ask.
Jack’s next words drug the thief’s roaming gaze back to him. “My mama says I’m all grown up. She sent me to Caledorn to trade Pattycake for some coins to pay Mr. Slade.”
“What's a Pattycake?” The rogue kept his voice smooth and casual as he started to wring water from the shirt he wore. Though the once white cloth was forever stained cherry blossom pink, he had managed to rub the rust-colored splotches out of the fabric. A good thing, too, because he wasn’t sure if Jack would be so candid if Dal still looked like he had just finished an all-day shift at a butcher shop.
Then again, the kid seemed to have all the guile and wit of a newborn puppy.
“Pattycake is our cow.” Jack replied confidently. Dalthan could practically see the kid swell up with pride, only for the young boy to deflate again a moment later. “But William Vaan took her from me. He said that since the green men burned his crops, he had to charge a toll for passing through his farm.”
Dalthan started to reply, only for his teeth to snap shut when he heard a sound like the toll of the world’s largest gong.
Bong!
The low bass note was accompanied by an itching in his palm. As soon as his thoughts focused on the sensation, his quest scroll manifested in his hand the same way his character sheet would. The thief hastily unrolled the yellow parchment to read over an exact copy of the scroll Lady Belial had handed him.
With one addendum tacked on at the bottom.
Quest The Archdemon Balerik has tasked you with selling three magic beans. By hook or by crook, you must find a buyer within five days. Asking price to be negotiated by quest bearer. Milestone 0/1 Bonus: Acquire Pattycake Reward: +1 Milestone
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Dalthan muttered, flipping the sheet over to make sure there wasn’t anything else added to the back.
“What’d you say, mister?” For the first time, Jack’s voice held a hint of anxiety.
“I said you’ve got to be shi…ver…ring.” The thief dropped the scroll as if it were made of molten iron. The yellow parchment obediently vanished before it touched the water. “I said you’ve got to be shivering Jack. It’s too cold for you to be dressed so lightly. Haha.”
The young boy gave the rogue’s words a long moment of consideration before a shake of his head sent blond locks fluttering through the air. “You’re weird, mister. It’s not cold. It’s summertime.” The boy’s voice held a note of gravitas as if it were his solemn duty to correct the clueless man standing in the river.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Oh, you’re right!,” Dalthan slapped his forehead sharply enough to fill the air with a clap of contact. Much to Jack’s amusement. After tossing a mischievous smile at the young boy, the thief began to wade his way across the river toward where the brat stood. “I’m so forgetful. Not like you, Jack. I bet you remember everything.”
“Why, I bet you can remember where Mr. Vaan took Pattycake, can’t you?” Dalthan’s eyes glimmered with encouragement as he began to climb up onto the riverbank. Water sluiced down his legs and rained from his breeches in a flood that would have filled his boots if they hadn’t already been saturated. He felt a pang of remorse for not taking his clothes off before he dove into the river, but in retrospect, that could have made his introduction to Jack extremely awkward.
“Of course I do,” the snot-nosed brat said as he drew himself up to his full height. He seemed no more concerned by the approaching man than Shale would be about a circling fly. “His farm is past the river’s bend. I know that’s where he took Pattycake.”
“That way?” Dalthan asked, indicating the direction that would carry them upstream. When the child tipped his head in an eager nod, the rogue couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Then why are you down here?”
“I came down here to play Knights and Outlaws!” Jack said, the words tumbling from his lips in such a rush that the thief was amazed that the brat didn’t end up biting his tongue. Caught up in his enthusiasm, the kid reached down to snatch a small branch from the ground and brandish it as if it’d been divinely bequeathed. “One day I’m going to be a knight and thrash all the outlaws! Because knights are the best!”
“Oh child,” Dalthan said, kicking off one of his boots to dump the excess water out of it. “I’ve got so much to teach you.”
~~~~~~~
“No, no,” Dalthan said with an emphatic shake of his head as he and Jack trudged their way through the underbrush. “You’ve got to drive the blade in there and twist it. Put your shoulder into it, lad.”
“Like this?” Jack’s crooked teeth bit into his lower lip, his entire being focused on mimicking the older man’s arm motion. The stick in his fist leaped forward, darting through the air like a striking viper. When his arm reached its full extension, the child violently wrenched his wrist. “Hyyah!”
“Much better!” The rogue’s emerald eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a teacher watching their star pupil.
Dalthan had been drilling Jack ever since they’d started marching toward the road. He’d briefly considered pressing on without the band of misfits he’d been saddled with, but he quickly abandoned that idea. The only way they could cause more trouble than they already had was if he left them unsupervised.
Or so he believed.
Luckily, Jack seemed to know this section of the forest quite well. The scrawny kid soon proved his worth as a guide by leading them to a shallow neck of the stream that they could easily cross by hopping from one flat rock to another. A game trail waited for them on the other side, providing a relatively easy path back toward the road and his waiting party.
As best he could tell, Dalthan figured they had about ten minutes left before they reached the roadside. Plenty of time for some quality one-on-one tutelage. He could almost feel himself growing more righteous with every minute he spent with the child. What could be more good than preparing a young lad for the challenges of a wider world?
“Now, if some irresponsible person leaves a bag of coins just laying around, what are you to do?” The way the blond kid’s brow furrowed convinced Dalthan to have mercy on his protege. “Try to remember rule three.”
“Oh!” Jack looked up, his brown eyes gleaming with triumph. “Rule three is ‘If it’s not nailed down, it’s fair game,’ right?” The kid’s brow furrowed as his steps slowed, a hesitancy entering his gaze as he looked furtively to the side as if he was afraid someone would overhear him. “Are you sure it’s okay to just take things, Prince Dalthan? My mama told me that you should always respect other people’s property.”
“And your mother is absolutely right.” Dalthan tipped his head in a sagacious nod as he reached out to settle one palm on the scrawny kid’s shoulders. “But what could be more respectful than taking care of their things yourself? We’re not hurting them by taking what they don’t need. We’re doing them a favor, Jack. We have a solemn duty to make sure coin ends up in the pockets of the people who need it most.”
"Usually," Dalthan continued gravely, "we are the people who need it most."
The boy seemed to waffle between acceptance and refusal before he clenched his jaw and gave the rogue a dignified nod. “I’ll put their things to good use for them, Prince Dalthan.” The boy was so enraptured that it looked as if he were considering swearing fealty to the thief right there on the spot.
“Good lad.” Dal clapped the budding cutpurse on the shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, he added quietly. “And don’t forget, I’m keeping my royal identity secret.”
“I’ll never tell anyone, mister,” the young boy said fervently, his eyes alight with the loyalty of a cult member.
“I know you won’t, Jack,” Dal said fondly as they finally emerged from the forest. “My secret is safe with you.” The rogue reached over to furiously ruffle the young boy’s hair, drawing a string of giggles from the child.
The two then set off down the road. As they strolled down the dusty path, Jack practiced his backstab while Dalthan patiently laid out the first ten rules in the Thief’s Handbook. He didn’t have time to go over the entire list, so the first ten would have to do. Despite the kid’s dirty, rustic appearance and his penchant for munching on his own mucus, Jack proved to be a remarkably quick study. Like a dry sponge, Jack greedily absorbed every lesson that the rogue had to offer.
Dalthan was in the middle of explaining the best ways to trick Truth spells when he suddenly spun toward the tree line. The abrupt movement, coupled with the hard set of the rogue’s jaw, sent Jack scurrying fearfully behind the thief. A heartbeat later, the kid’s brown eyes grew wide when an eight-foot-tall stone golem lumbered ponderously out of the forest and onto the road.
“Took you long enough.” Zaplixel’s nasally voice grated on Dal’s nerves like nails scratching against a blackboard. “Do you have any idea what this quest update is all about? None of us know what a ‘Pattycake’ is.” The wizard seemed to be on the verge of saying more when he stepped around Shale’s bulky frame and caught sight of the young boy peering past Dalthan’s side. Zap's pale blue eyes widened in surprise as he choked off his spiteful words.
Unlike the mage, the woman that followed him out of the forest had no qualms about giving voice to her thoughts.
“Where did you find a little person?” Keysha said, recoiling as if the rogue had returned in the company of a gibbering demon. “And why is it following you? There’s no telling what kind of diseases that thing has. Do you have any idea what they put in their mouths?”
Dalthan winced, raising his hands in a placating gesture to fend off Keysha’s furious gaze. “Just give me a chance to explain. I know all about the Milestone and I’ve even got a plan to finish the whole quest before sundown.” As Dal spoke, he stepped to the side and ushered the reluctant Jack forward with an encouraging smile.
“Little Jack is going to be our secret weapon.”