CHAPTER I

The sweet smell of freshly baked pastries fills the air mixing with the tangy odor of a crowded summer street. It is the season of magic, when the Merlin Festival brings throngs of visitors to Gold Seal City and a man can hardly walk the streets without rubbing elbows with a stranger. That moment of contact, the slight yet impersonal brushing of shoulder against shoulder is the moment that a pickpocket waits for.

If one has a light enough touch the mark will never miss his purse until he plans to use it. No one has a lighter touch than Draken, it’s as if the goods eagerly leap into his waiting hand. He smiles to himself, feeling the distinct weight of gold.

A lyre’s music rises over the chatter of the streets, seeming to carry on the warm summer breeze to the ears of all those passing by. The young thief’s ears are particularly interested.

Pulling a half eaten apple from his pocket, Draken takes a bite and the minstrel breaks into song.

As the off-key youth sings of forbidden love a whistling blur passes inches from the pickpocket’s face, leaving a cool but fleeting breeze in its wake. A blond ragamuffin shoots past, dodging and bumping anyone between him and the ball, including Draken. An instant later and the stolen purse is out of Draken’s hand , on it’s way to the young girl selling flowers at the edge of the plaza.

Draken’s keen eye scans the crowd once again. A fat richly dressed man catches his attention. Jeweled rings and gold chains on his neck. The boy takes one step forward and stops, pivoting his gaze across the plaza. An almost identically dressed man browses fine silks.

“It’s getting too hot around here.” Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Draken puts the bright blue handkerchief in his breast pocket.

The music stops.

He makes a beeline for the statue at the edge of the park. Crusty bird droppings crunch against his back as he leans on the unwashed memorial. A brick wall belonging to a small manor house obscures his view of the plaza.

He hears footsteps approaching. A lanky unshaven teen with wild hair and a buck toothed grin strolls around the corner, tuning his lyre as he sits under the shade of an overhanging tree.

“We planned to work till noon, what happened?” The youth asks.

“Plan changed, too many pigs,” Draken replies.

The youth scratches his fuzzy chin, “never saw any guards out there.” Taking another bite of his apple, Draken peeks around the wall indicating the two identically well dressed men with his thumb,“no points for originality.”

“Huh, never would have guessed those guys. Suppose that’s why you’re in charge and i’m just the talent.” The youth lightly plucks the strings on his instrument as he tunes it.

A thud and a cloud of dirt pummels the two teens with filth. The shirtless urchin slides to a halt, snatching up his ball.

“You got dirt on my strings, Jacob!”

The lanky musician gives his instrument a distressed look, frantically wiping the strings with a cloth.

“Little dirt never hurt anything, Warren.” The urchin says, in a booming voice too loud for discretion. A quick scan of the plaza rests Draken’s mind to the danger of unwanted attention.

“We gonna go in the park an see some magic?” The urchin asks, again in a loud voice. Draken cuffs the boy’s ear. “You gotta learn not to be so fuckin loud.”

The boy rubs his ear, lowering his voice to a nearly inaudible whisper.

“It ain’t like I told anyone we’re out here thievin, Draken! We gonna go see some magic or what?” For an instant Draken sees the blade spinning in his memory, changing direction as if it were alive.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“Magic,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“I said we’ll see the magic when Lily gets here after making the drop.”

“Don’t look like Lily’s waiting for us.” Jacob indicates the young girl standing in line at a candy apple stand.

“Girl’s got the focus of a cat.” Warren says.

“She is your sister,” Jacob replies. “Better check an make sure she did the drop.”

A sudden shout of dismay and the small girl falls helplessly into a thorn-bush. Her screams are only matched in volume by the laughter of the boy in the blue velvet cloak.

The foppish young man steps past the screaming girl he pushed and snatches a candy apple from the hands of the vender, tossing a copper coin and walking off.

“I’ll kill him!” Warren barrels through the park with knife in hand, ready to gut the lad in full view of a dozen witnesses.

Draken’s chest heaves as he works every muscle to catch up to the tall musician. A horizontal leap and tangled bodies tumble to the grass. A swift jab to the abdomen leaves Warren gasping for air. Staggering upright Draken pulls his friend to his feet.

“You got your head on straight?”

Warren nods.

“Good, your sister’s still stuck in those bushes, go help her. I’ll teach the bastard a lesson and unlike you I don’t plan to get hanged, now laugh like we were just playing.” Patting Warren’s shoulder, Draken kicks the knife into the tall grass as he laughs heartily.

“Now I’ll run and you can catch me,” he shouts in his best impression of young Jacob. The guard walking past the statue near the edge of the park turns his attention back to the plaza and the hoard of shoppers.

Warren runs to aid his sister as Draken scans the throngs mulling about the park’s festivities. Rather through luck or skill he spots the boy in the blue velvet cloak (a peacock if he’s ever seen one) watching the conjuring tricks of the sorcerer atop the pageant wagon stage.

In spite of his recent aversion to magic Draken cannot help but look on the spectacle in awe.

The magician gesticulates as the water-spout rises and rises to a towering height of fifty feet. Searing heat blasts the audience as the water bursts into flame. Even as he cranes his neck toward the towering inferno Draken’s feet guide him closer to his target. The peacock is in the front rows, just a few feet away, close enough to see the broad grin on his lips and the elation in his eyes.

No remorse, Draken could almost see it in the boy’s mind. His thoughts for poor Lily were less than nothing. To this spoiled asshole a young girl with an old patched dress is only an obstacle to be shoved aside and forgotten.

She’s so poor and dirty, so far beneath his exalted status as the son of a magistrate that her pain is a joke to him. Draken’s heckles raise as he marches toward the peacock, ready to forget discretion and beat him bloody before the gods and a hundred eyes.

A deafening blast and a blinding flash halt Draken’s stride, leaving him dazed. His eyes come into focus, flowers, thousands of lilies blow on the wind. The heat of the flames is gone and so is the peacock. Draken spots him strolling toward the big blue marquee at the center of the park.

The rage knocked out of him by the blast, the young thief thinks only of his goal and quickly navigates the crowd only as a skilled pickpocket can. His eyes lock on the velvet cloak and he quickens his step.

The gold in that fat purse will buy Lily three good dresses and an oiled cloak. That will be revenge enough, if not he can always rob the bastard now and jump him later when he’s alone and far from witnesses.

The distance closes as they both approach the big tent’s guarded entrance. The peacock stops behind another boy, taking his place in a sizable line. Draken slips directly behind him. The purse swiftly leaps into his hand and vanishes into his vest pocket. Now to back away disappear into the park, he feels a plump warmth behind him.

“Watch it, kid!” Six people behind him, no way to avoid notice if he slips out. All six have had plenty of time to make an accurate description and if he runs he’ll be immediately suspected.

Guardsmen not far off eying the line for trouble, very bad. Looking around Draken has a sinking feeling as the purpose of the line becomes crystal clear. It could really only be for one thing, open apprentice trials. The Merlin Festival's tradition, when the three orders of magic set up tents all over the public spaces of the city and let anyone of age face the trials to become a magician’s apprentice.

He’s often toyed with the idea of taking the trials after turning thirteen yet the knife incident convinced him of discarding the thought entirely. He wants absolutely nothing to do with magic.

“Do you certify that you are of legal age to seek apprenticeship, understand and accept any danger to your mind, body or soul and are undertaking this trial of your own free will? ”

“I do.” The words are smug coming from the peacock’s mouth. He is shoved into the tent and Draken steps up to the tall scowling magician in burgundy robes.