The First Binding, page 39
“What’s the matter, sparrow? What happened to that mouth, huh?” Gabi shoved his other hand against my lips, trying to part them and jam his thumb and index finger between my teeth.
He asked me a good question, and I felt it my sworn duty to give him a sparrow’s answer. So I did.
I clamped my teeth down on Gabi’s finger as hard as I could, gnashing—thrashing, tearing flesh until I tasted hot and bitter blood. My legs kicked out as Gabi screamed something so shrill his throat must have been stripped by the effort. Something struck my gut and a rush of air left me. My hold on Gabi’s hand broke and I tumbled to the ground, hitting my back hard enough to squeeze what little breath remained out of me.
I lay there, stunned, watching the two boys gawk at Gabi’s mangled flesh.
Thipu let loose a string of obscenities I still can’t accurately recall to this day, and Gabi howled and spat curses about what he’d do to me.
And he made good on his word.
The first kick took my lower back, sending me into a spasm. Then a kick to my stomach. Another, for good measure I assumed. One never does the job. A kick to the back of my head cut my vision and threaded it with black. Then the remaining kicks came in the darkness until I couldn’t tell one sore spot of my body from another.
I still believe to this day that the two boys would have killed me in that moment, but life often has a cruel sense of humor and symmetry.
“You two really don’t learn, do you?” Nika’s voice warbled above me, coming from what I guessed was the mouth of the alley.
“How’d you—” I couldn’t tell if it was Thipu or Gabi who’d spoken.
“There are more to the sparrows than what you see. I was told. And I came.” I couldn’t see Nika as she spoke, but I watched her blur by into motion. She fell on the wounded Gabi before he could register what was happening.
The sparrow’s dog sent her fingers into his hair, grabbing him tight and wrenching. His head pulled to one side as she brought the base of a closed fist down on his neck. She did the same to the front of his face, and the wet crunch that followed satisfied my curiosity in knowing the difference between a beaten and broken nose.
Thipu, poor soul that he was, took a kick to the groin. And because Nika was one to always take her martial craft seriously, she introduced Thipu to another blow in the same spot. Both boys crumbled in unison.
Nika came to my side in the lull and helped raise me halfway up. “Put your arms around me.”
I coughed, and another bit of blood and spittle fell from my mouth. I tried to speak, but she pressed a folded rag to my lips, silencing me.
“Don’t talk. Brahm’s breath and body, Ari, it’s like you enjoy getting beaten.”
I sputtered and managed to weakly push the cloth away. “Well…” I choked on some bile and blood before coughing it clear. “I did say you could save me anytime.” I coughed again.
Nika smiled and helped get me to my feet.
A shame Gabi and Thipu had gotten to theirs first and ran the other way. And with my coin at that.
“Let’s get you back. You’re done for the day.”
I made a feeble attempt to shake her free but she held me with a grip of iron and stone.
“We’re going back. Whatever you have to give to Mithu will be enough, even if it’s just a few chips. It’s enough. Besides, you know he likes you after you got all the other sparrows to pull more coin.” Her expression darkened. “Especially after some of our brothers and sisters have gone missing.”
She had a point, but I couldn’t afford it. Even the slightest slip and Mithu would watch me like a hawk. I couldn’t have him worrying about my ability to tithe. If he wanted to, he could have me watched without my knowing, and he’d come to learn about my second collection.
That I’d been stealing from him. It was the only way I could keep the promise to myself that, somehow, I’d make it to the Ashram. To learn the ten bindings. To live up to Mahrab’s vision for me.
“I’ll come back, but I just need a moment alone.”
“But, Ari?” Nika reached out with a hand to cup my face.
I turned from the gesture. “Please. I have an idea. A safe and decent clutch. I promise.”
She bit her lip, but nodded.
I watched her leave before I limped back toward my hidden stash. Content no one else lingered at either end of the alley, watching, I pulled the brick free. It galled me to have to do this and I tasted a kind of acid in the back of the throat that had nothing to do with my beating. I pulled free one of the copper rounds and then three tin chips.
It’d appease Mithu.
I sighed and made the long trek back home, stowing my coins in a pocket and praying none of Koli’s other runners decided to take a crack at me today.
My thoughts soon turned grim the closer I got to the sparrow sanctuary, and I realized I’d have to do something on my own about Gabi and Thipu. So I paid Mithu his tithe, went back to my room, and dreamed up a performance that would have the two boys at my mercy.
And then I’d take care of the problem.
THIRTY-TWO
LIME, STRING, AND GLASS
Another month passed on the city streets of Keshum, and I’d walked a narrow line to avoid any more trouble with Gabi and Thipu. That isn’t to say I didn’t cut things close. I’d spent a few sets of days following the pair, even at the cost of earning smaller coin from my daily work, in effort to learn their routine.
I watched Gabi and Thipu make their white-joy runs for Koli, finding out which back alleys they worked. While the two didn’t seem to have much for brains between themselves, they were ruthlessly efficient in their work. Any trouble or hindrance was subdued with quick force. They didn’t barter or haggle with cotton-eyes, telling them exactly how it was and how much to pay.
And they got what they asked for.
I almost lost my composure, wanting to race out and throttle the boys when I saw them pass a small vial to a man clearly down on his luck. By the looks of him, I could see he’d never tried the drug, and he was exactly in the place of his life to be willing to. They gave it to him free of charge, knowing as I did that he’d be hooked and ready to pay whatever for more joy.
The two boys worked everywhere, from Hadhi Street to places like Gadha, Thikkum, and Cathri streets. A wide and irregular run of roads to operate in, but Koli must have had his reasons.
It meant many more roads in between to lose the pair in, and I’d taken my time to memorize every corner and turn along the way. I’d grown the confidence that, if chased, I could have Gabi and Thipu lost and in my hands.
I just needed to have something ready for when I had them where I wanted. And so, as Rayaan, the festival of colors and kites, came on us, I reached into my private treasure and parted with more coins than I cared to.
I bought premade string, slathered in adhesive and lined with shards of glass. The point was to run the lines on your kites when flying beside others, and with careful control, bump and tie your lines to others. Done carefully, the friction of your line, aided by the glass, would shear someone else’s and leave their kite to flit away without control. But I had another need in mind for the sharp string and an excess of bottle glass.
I’d slowly whittled away every extra tin chip I’d saved, coming down to my last copper round, but this would be worth it.
I hoped.
* * *
I made my way through Gadha Street, a place that mixed its trade between the harder goods and soft. Bolts of silk and rolls of hemp filled vendors’ stalls. Shirts and pants and scarves. No food, no spices, nothing of clay, marble, and stone. Only fabrics and what could be made of them. And, mummers and minstrels on the street playing for what spare coin could be thrown their way.
And the women outside a building I’d learned long ago to avoid. For a copper and your time, they’d treat you to earthly pleasures. And for something more, hard iron bunts, a joy of the body and mind that came from as much them as from Koli’s goods. The men and women that frequented that place were a kind of trouble no sparrow wanted. And they were the sort that would look on a Sullied child as an opportunity for more pleasure and coin.
Two-thirds of a candlemark had burned away, meaning an hour until midday. Gabi and Thipu would shortly move down an alley where some of the regular cotton-eyes would be ready to buy more white-joy.
I placed an orange slice into my mouth, biting and sucking it clean of all juices and pulp. The rind stayed in my hand, however. I’d need it.
I slinked through another alley nearby, making my way around to the end of where they’d come to be, waiting for them to show up.
It didn’t take long before harsh whispers echoed down the passage. I could make out Gabi telling the cotton-eyes ahead what to expect, what to pay, and when he’d be back next. He’d raised their prices on them and, being who and what they were, they didn’t argue much. It’d be easier in their minds to sell another piece of themselves or someone else than to argue and risk losing the joy altogether.
Their transactions concluded, and Thipu’s and Gabi’s voices grew louder as they neared where I lurked.
I stepped out into view, bouncing the orange slice in an open palm. Neither of them paid me any mind and had their attention fixed on the coins they’d just collected. That brought a smile to my face. Time they learned what it was like to be on the other end of their hounding.
I knelt, scooping up a loose stone and folding the rind over it. A snap of my wrist sent the projectile hurtling toward Gabi’s face. It struck him square in the eye, some remnants of the juice spurting out from the blow and pressure of the stone.
He yowled, pawing at the spot and dropping his coins.
Thipu, to his credit, kept his mind on the currency and quickly retrieved it before tending to his friend. It took only a second longer before both boys realized I stood ahead of them.
Gabi’s chest heaved and his lips peeled away from his teeth almost like a feral dog’s. “You.”
I grinned, wide and rakish before breaking into a bird trill. “How’s the eye?”
“I’ll kill you, you little shit. I’ll…” He seethed, his words falling to the side as he mimed wringing an imaginary neck with his hands. “I swear.”
“Don’t swear. Just try it. Though, I think both of those things might be too hard for you.” I widened my smile and let out another whistle. “Cheep-cheep.” I turned on a heel and walked away.
Gabi let loose a noise I still remember to this day. Something between an elephantine roar and the shrieking of an angry cat. It managed to be a basso bellow tinged with the high shrills only young boys going through that change into adolescence are capable of.
I sucked in a breath, steadying myself for the run to come.
Both boys took off after me.
Brahm’s blood, he’s angrier than I thought. I ran as hard as I could, winding through the alleys ahead. It galled me to slow my pace in places to ensure I didn’t lose them. First, I kept to alleys I knew they worked, so they could track me with an ease that would lower their guard.
Then we wound down roads I’d made sure they never bothered to look twice at. We came to an alley I’d laboriously set up in, knowing it’d be clear of any other through traffic.
A series of dore strings, fine as hair, and infinitely stronger, threaded through parts of the alley. Only a keen eye that knew to look for them, aided by sunlight, would spot them at first glance.
I came to a shuddering halt and bent between some of the strings I’d fastened to anchors in the alley walls. It took me longer than I would have liked to properly contort my way through without nicking my exposed skin against the glass-lined threads.
Once through, I made my way to a section of wall that had fallen apart over the years. Pitted, broken, and offering more than enough purchase for a scrappy youth used to climbing his way up to a rickety bed in an understage.
I scampered up, the old calluses on my hands and feet, now toughened further, making it an easy task. Then, I waited on the roof of the building for the two to pass through.
Gabi came first.
He hit the strings, tumbling and tearing most of them with his weight. But they did their job.
He screamed, clutching himself randomly and rolling around, only worsening his agony. The strings caught and wormed tighter, digging into him with razor-sharp and gritty fury.
Thipu, who’d been on the heels of his friend, careened over him and met a similar fate.
Both boys were lined with bleeding ribbons and fine gashes. Nothing that would kill them, but they’d bear the scars for years. And the memories with them.
It would have been enough to leave them there, but an angry sparrow is a terrible thing. It will fight and peck at something larger than itself if there’s ever enough cause to. These two had given me more than enough.
So I pulled one of the broken bottles I’d stored up on the roof, first collected from the streets over many sets. I bounced it in my hand before hurling it toward the boys. It missed, breaking on the ground between them. That hardly mattered as Gabi pressed a hand to the spot in an effort to push himself up.
He met more glass and cried out again.
Several more bottles flew, a few striking home. The boys could hardly be bothered to notice, though, so buried in their own pain.
Shame. I felt I should do something to rouse them. So I did.
I grabbed the dented pail I’d stolen earlier that month, taking care not to spill what precious liquid I’d saved inside it. I’d been buying and picking limes for sets now. Half-used, thrown away, and a few times, brand new. Every drop of juice I could get now pooled in the bucket.
I edged my way along the rooftop until I stood directly above the two squirming boys. “I hope you piss and shit blood for the next month. I hope the next time you see a sparrow you remember this before thinking about hurting one of us. I hope you burn. You, Thipu, Koli, all of you!” I tipped the bucket over.
I got my wish. They burned.
The lime juice splattered them, sending both boys into spastic fits and howls. They shook and tried to touch any part of themselves that had been cut and was now drenched in lime. But every motion and twinge set them into renewed bouts of pain.
I didn’t sit to savor it, though I would have liked to. That much noise would draw the kuthri, appointed guards and peacekeepers, as well as muscle hired by wealthier merchants. They kept the main parts of the Golden Road and profitable streets clear of my kind. And they were not known for showing any kindness in that task.
I made my way down from the wall and crept closer to both boys.
One of Gabi’s eyes carried more red than white, streaked through with blood and nearly as much hatred. He glared at me as I looked past him to what had fallen on the ground.
Coins. All of the coins they’d claimed that day from their runs.
Two copper rounds, and nearly two dozen tin chips. Almost another round just in tin coin. I knelt and pinched every coin up, keeping a wary eye for any sudden movements from the boys. Fortunately, they looked resigned to their crippled fate and all the pain that came with it.
Good.
I won’t ever say what I did was good in any measure. I knew it had been a terrible thing. But it was necessary. And often, necessity outweighs the good of things.
I’m sure philosophers, pedants, monks—and they’re often the same—feel otherwise about that, but to a small child on the street without caste to protect him and a stable family to shelter him, necessity promises you safety. Be it of food, a place to sleep, or deterring threats.
And … it brought me pleasure. I’ll not lie about that.
I took their coin before stepping away from them. Gabi sputtered something at my back that I didn’t have a care to honestly hear. I looked at the pair of them over my shoulder. “If you ever come for me again, I’ll do a thousand times worse to you. I promise. I’ll find a way. I’ll find where you sleep and I’ll burn you there. You, Koli, all his dogs, and all his white-joy. All of you.” And I meant it.
The look in Gabi’s one open eye told me he knew it to be true as well.
I left them in their misery and ran all the way back to my hiding hole. A small treasure of its own now sat in my hand, but the day’s work meant I’d not pulled a single chip for Mithu. A moment of greed did seep into me, telling me to put both copper rounds away, bringing my total to three saved. I pushed that voice aside and deposited one round and ten of the tin chips.
Another round and ten sat in my hand as offering to Mithu, while I’d kept two rounds and ten for myself. My fortune grew.
I decided that I’d done enough running for the day and deserved to walk home, making sure to stop by a cart for a slice of mango. So Mithu would get a round and eight chips. He’d hardly know the difference.
THIRTY-THREE
PROMISES
Eight months passed as a sparrow on the streets of Keshum, and my mind grew sharp, quick, and cleverer than I thought possible. It stretched in more ways than when I studied the folds of the mind, all of which now had taken up an older room inside. A place caked in dust and cobwebs. And the candle and the flame had turned into a waning fire, mere sparks, struggling to stay alight. And somewhere, stood a locked door holding a name from my theater life.
But Ari the Sparrow had no need of those things.
Ari the Sparrow needed the simpler things: time to himself, a place to keep his treasures, and a promise to be fulfilled. A promise of vengeance.
But I came to learn that some promises are made to be broken.
* * *
I woke that morning earlier than my scheduled time to run the streets. For the past two months, Mithu had set me to learning how to be a clutcher. How to bump and hold people to send their minds elsewhere while I plucked or snicked a purse. He’d even given me a knife to do the job.
A piece of iron, thin and tapered, lacking any adornment. It was a good tool for a sparrow. A simple tug on bindings and one good snap, the knife would part a coin pouch from any surface with ease.
He asked me a good question, and I felt it my sworn duty to give him a sparrow’s answer. So I did.
I clamped my teeth down on Gabi’s finger as hard as I could, gnashing—thrashing, tearing flesh until I tasted hot and bitter blood. My legs kicked out as Gabi screamed something so shrill his throat must have been stripped by the effort. Something struck my gut and a rush of air left me. My hold on Gabi’s hand broke and I tumbled to the ground, hitting my back hard enough to squeeze what little breath remained out of me.
I lay there, stunned, watching the two boys gawk at Gabi’s mangled flesh.
Thipu let loose a string of obscenities I still can’t accurately recall to this day, and Gabi howled and spat curses about what he’d do to me.
And he made good on his word.
The first kick took my lower back, sending me into a spasm. Then a kick to my stomach. Another, for good measure I assumed. One never does the job. A kick to the back of my head cut my vision and threaded it with black. Then the remaining kicks came in the darkness until I couldn’t tell one sore spot of my body from another.
I still believe to this day that the two boys would have killed me in that moment, but life often has a cruel sense of humor and symmetry.
“You two really don’t learn, do you?” Nika’s voice warbled above me, coming from what I guessed was the mouth of the alley.
“How’d you—” I couldn’t tell if it was Thipu or Gabi who’d spoken.
“There are more to the sparrows than what you see. I was told. And I came.” I couldn’t see Nika as she spoke, but I watched her blur by into motion. She fell on the wounded Gabi before he could register what was happening.
The sparrow’s dog sent her fingers into his hair, grabbing him tight and wrenching. His head pulled to one side as she brought the base of a closed fist down on his neck. She did the same to the front of his face, and the wet crunch that followed satisfied my curiosity in knowing the difference between a beaten and broken nose.
Thipu, poor soul that he was, took a kick to the groin. And because Nika was one to always take her martial craft seriously, she introduced Thipu to another blow in the same spot. Both boys crumbled in unison.
Nika came to my side in the lull and helped raise me halfway up. “Put your arms around me.”
I coughed, and another bit of blood and spittle fell from my mouth. I tried to speak, but she pressed a folded rag to my lips, silencing me.
“Don’t talk. Brahm’s breath and body, Ari, it’s like you enjoy getting beaten.”
I sputtered and managed to weakly push the cloth away. “Well…” I choked on some bile and blood before coughing it clear. “I did say you could save me anytime.” I coughed again.
Nika smiled and helped get me to my feet.
A shame Gabi and Thipu had gotten to theirs first and ran the other way. And with my coin at that.
“Let’s get you back. You’re done for the day.”
I made a feeble attempt to shake her free but she held me with a grip of iron and stone.
“We’re going back. Whatever you have to give to Mithu will be enough, even if it’s just a few chips. It’s enough. Besides, you know he likes you after you got all the other sparrows to pull more coin.” Her expression darkened. “Especially after some of our brothers and sisters have gone missing.”
She had a point, but I couldn’t afford it. Even the slightest slip and Mithu would watch me like a hawk. I couldn’t have him worrying about my ability to tithe. If he wanted to, he could have me watched without my knowing, and he’d come to learn about my second collection.
That I’d been stealing from him. It was the only way I could keep the promise to myself that, somehow, I’d make it to the Ashram. To learn the ten bindings. To live up to Mahrab’s vision for me.
“I’ll come back, but I just need a moment alone.”
“But, Ari?” Nika reached out with a hand to cup my face.
I turned from the gesture. “Please. I have an idea. A safe and decent clutch. I promise.”
She bit her lip, but nodded.
I watched her leave before I limped back toward my hidden stash. Content no one else lingered at either end of the alley, watching, I pulled the brick free. It galled me to have to do this and I tasted a kind of acid in the back of the throat that had nothing to do with my beating. I pulled free one of the copper rounds and then three tin chips.
It’d appease Mithu.
I sighed and made the long trek back home, stowing my coins in a pocket and praying none of Koli’s other runners decided to take a crack at me today.
My thoughts soon turned grim the closer I got to the sparrow sanctuary, and I realized I’d have to do something on my own about Gabi and Thipu. So I paid Mithu his tithe, went back to my room, and dreamed up a performance that would have the two boys at my mercy.
And then I’d take care of the problem.
THIRTY-TWO
LIME, STRING, AND GLASS
Another month passed on the city streets of Keshum, and I’d walked a narrow line to avoid any more trouble with Gabi and Thipu. That isn’t to say I didn’t cut things close. I’d spent a few sets of days following the pair, even at the cost of earning smaller coin from my daily work, in effort to learn their routine.
I watched Gabi and Thipu make their white-joy runs for Koli, finding out which back alleys they worked. While the two didn’t seem to have much for brains between themselves, they were ruthlessly efficient in their work. Any trouble or hindrance was subdued with quick force. They didn’t barter or haggle with cotton-eyes, telling them exactly how it was and how much to pay.
And they got what they asked for.
I almost lost my composure, wanting to race out and throttle the boys when I saw them pass a small vial to a man clearly down on his luck. By the looks of him, I could see he’d never tried the drug, and he was exactly in the place of his life to be willing to. They gave it to him free of charge, knowing as I did that he’d be hooked and ready to pay whatever for more joy.
The two boys worked everywhere, from Hadhi Street to places like Gadha, Thikkum, and Cathri streets. A wide and irregular run of roads to operate in, but Koli must have had his reasons.
It meant many more roads in between to lose the pair in, and I’d taken my time to memorize every corner and turn along the way. I’d grown the confidence that, if chased, I could have Gabi and Thipu lost and in my hands.
I just needed to have something ready for when I had them where I wanted. And so, as Rayaan, the festival of colors and kites, came on us, I reached into my private treasure and parted with more coins than I cared to.
I bought premade string, slathered in adhesive and lined with shards of glass. The point was to run the lines on your kites when flying beside others, and with careful control, bump and tie your lines to others. Done carefully, the friction of your line, aided by the glass, would shear someone else’s and leave their kite to flit away without control. But I had another need in mind for the sharp string and an excess of bottle glass.
I’d slowly whittled away every extra tin chip I’d saved, coming down to my last copper round, but this would be worth it.
I hoped.
* * *
I made my way through Gadha Street, a place that mixed its trade between the harder goods and soft. Bolts of silk and rolls of hemp filled vendors’ stalls. Shirts and pants and scarves. No food, no spices, nothing of clay, marble, and stone. Only fabrics and what could be made of them. And, mummers and minstrels on the street playing for what spare coin could be thrown their way.
And the women outside a building I’d learned long ago to avoid. For a copper and your time, they’d treat you to earthly pleasures. And for something more, hard iron bunts, a joy of the body and mind that came from as much them as from Koli’s goods. The men and women that frequented that place were a kind of trouble no sparrow wanted. And they were the sort that would look on a Sullied child as an opportunity for more pleasure and coin.
Two-thirds of a candlemark had burned away, meaning an hour until midday. Gabi and Thipu would shortly move down an alley where some of the regular cotton-eyes would be ready to buy more white-joy.
I placed an orange slice into my mouth, biting and sucking it clean of all juices and pulp. The rind stayed in my hand, however. I’d need it.
I slinked through another alley nearby, making my way around to the end of where they’d come to be, waiting for them to show up.
It didn’t take long before harsh whispers echoed down the passage. I could make out Gabi telling the cotton-eyes ahead what to expect, what to pay, and when he’d be back next. He’d raised their prices on them and, being who and what they were, they didn’t argue much. It’d be easier in their minds to sell another piece of themselves or someone else than to argue and risk losing the joy altogether.
Their transactions concluded, and Thipu’s and Gabi’s voices grew louder as they neared where I lurked.
I stepped out into view, bouncing the orange slice in an open palm. Neither of them paid me any mind and had their attention fixed on the coins they’d just collected. That brought a smile to my face. Time they learned what it was like to be on the other end of their hounding.
I knelt, scooping up a loose stone and folding the rind over it. A snap of my wrist sent the projectile hurtling toward Gabi’s face. It struck him square in the eye, some remnants of the juice spurting out from the blow and pressure of the stone.
He yowled, pawing at the spot and dropping his coins.
Thipu, to his credit, kept his mind on the currency and quickly retrieved it before tending to his friend. It took only a second longer before both boys realized I stood ahead of them.
Gabi’s chest heaved and his lips peeled away from his teeth almost like a feral dog’s. “You.”
I grinned, wide and rakish before breaking into a bird trill. “How’s the eye?”
“I’ll kill you, you little shit. I’ll…” He seethed, his words falling to the side as he mimed wringing an imaginary neck with his hands. “I swear.”
“Don’t swear. Just try it. Though, I think both of those things might be too hard for you.” I widened my smile and let out another whistle. “Cheep-cheep.” I turned on a heel and walked away.
Gabi let loose a noise I still remember to this day. Something between an elephantine roar and the shrieking of an angry cat. It managed to be a basso bellow tinged with the high shrills only young boys going through that change into adolescence are capable of.
I sucked in a breath, steadying myself for the run to come.
Both boys took off after me.
Brahm’s blood, he’s angrier than I thought. I ran as hard as I could, winding through the alleys ahead. It galled me to slow my pace in places to ensure I didn’t lose them. First, I kept to alleys I knew they worked, so they could track me with an ease that would lower their guard.
Then we wound down roads I’d made sure they never bothered to look twice at. We came to an alley I’d laboriously set up in, knowing it’d be clear of any other through traffic.
A series of dore strings, fine as hair, and infinitely stronger, threaded through parts of the alley. Only a keen eye that knew to look for them, aided by sunlight, would spot them at first glance.
I came to a shuddering halt and bent between some of the strings I’d fastened to anchors in the alley walls. It took me longer than I would have liked to properly contort my way through without nicking my exposed skin against the glass-lined threads.
Once through, I made my way to a section of wall that had fallen apart over the years. Pitted, broken, and offering more than enough purchase for a scrappy youth used to climbing his way up to a rickety bed in an understage.
I scampered up, the old calluses on my hands and feet, now toughened further, making it an easy task. Then, I waited on the roof of the building for the two to pass through.
Gabi came first.
He hit the strings, tumbling and tearing most of them with his weight. But they did their job.
He screamed, clutching himself randomly and rolling around, only worsening his agony. The strings caught and wormed tighter, digging into him with razor-sharp and gritty fury.
Thipu, who’d been on the heels of his friend, careened over him and met a similar fate.
Both boys were lined with bleeding ribbons and fine gashes. Nothing that would kill them, but they’d bear the scars for years. And the memories with them.
It would have been enough to leave them there, but an angry sparrow is a terrible thing. It will fight and peck at something larger than itself if there’s ever enough cause to. These two had given me more than enough.
So I pulled one of the broken bottles I’d stored up on the roof, first collected from the streets over many sets. I bounced it in my hand before hurling it toward the boys. It missed, breaking on the ground between them. That hardly mattered as Gabi pressed a hand to the spot in an effort to push himself up.
He met more glass and cried out again.
Several more bottles flew, a few striking home. The boys could hardly be bothered to notice, though, so buried in their own pain.
Shame. I felt I should do something to rouse them. So I did.
I grabbed the dented pail I’d stolen earlier that month, taking care not to spill what precious liquid I’d saved inside it. I’d been buying and picking limes for sets now. Half-used, thrown away, and a few times, brand new. Every drop of juice I could get now pooled in the bucket.
I edged my way along the rooftop until I stood directly above the two squirming boys. “I hope you piss and shit blood for the next month. I hope the next time you see a sparrow you remember this before thinking about hurting one of us. I hope you burn. You, Thipu, Koli, all of you!” I tipped the bucket over.
I got my wish. They burned.
The lime juice splattered them, sending both boys into spastic fits and howls. They shook and tried to touch any part of themselves that had been cut and was now drenched in lime. But every motion and twinge set them into renewed bouts of pain.
I didn’t sit to savor it, though I would have liked to. That much noise would draw the kuthri, appointed guards and peacekeepers, as well as muscle hired by wealthier merchants. They kept the main parts of the Golden Road and profitable streets clear of my kind. And they were not known for showing any kindness in that task.
I made my way down from the wall and crept closer to both boys.
One of Gabi’s eyes carried more red than white, streaked through with blood and nearly as much hatred. He glared at me as I looked past him to what had fallen on the ground.
Coins. All of the coins they’d claimed that day from their runs.
Two copper rounds, and nearly two dozen tin chips. Almost another round just in tin coin. I knelt and pinched every coin up, keeping a wary eye for any sudden movements from the boys. Fortunately, they looked resigned to their crippled fate and all the pain that came with it.
Good.
I won’t ever say what I did was good in any measure. I knew it had been a terrible thing. But it was necessary. And often, necessity outweighs the good of things.
I’m sure philosophers, pedants, monks—and they’re often the same—feel otherwise about that, but to a small child on the street without caste to protect him and a stable family to shelter him, necessity promises you safety. Be it of food, a place to sleep, or deterring threats.
And … it brought me pleasure. I’ll not lie about that.
I took their coin before stepping away from them. Gabi sputtered something at my back that I didn’t have a care to honestly hear. I looked at the pair of them over my shoulder. “If you ever come for me again, I’ll do a thousand times worse to you. I promise. I’ll find a way. I’ll find where you sleep and I’ll burn you there. You, Koli, all his dogs, and all his white-joy. All of you.” And I meant it.
The look in Gabi’s one open eye told me he knew it to be true as well.
I left them in their misery and ran all the way back to my hiding hole. A small treasure of its own now sat in my hand, but the day’s work meant I’d not pulled a single chip for Mithu. A moment of greed did seep into me, telling me to put both copper rounds away, bringing my total to three saved. I pushed that voice aside and deposited one round and ten of the tin chips.
Another round and ten sat in my hand as offering to Mithu, while I’d kept two rounds and ten for myself. My fortune grew.
I decided that I’d done enough running for the day and deserved to walk home, making sure to stop by a cart for a slice of mango. So Mithu would get a round and eight chips. He’d hardly know the difference.
THIRTY-THREE
PROMISES
Eight months passed as a sparrow on the streets of Keshum, and my mind grew sharp, quick, and cleverer than I thought possible. It stretched in more ways than when I studied the folds of the mind, all of which now had taken up an older room inside. A place caked in dust and cobwebs. And the candle and the flame had turned into a waning fire, mere sparks, struggling to stay alight. And somewhere, stood a locked door holding a name from my theater life.
But Ari the Sparrow had no need of those things.
Ari the Sparrow needed the simpler things: time to himself, a place to keep his treasures, and a promise to be fulfilled. A promise of vengeance.
But I came to learn that some promises are made to be broken.
* * *
I woke that morning earlier than my scheduled time to run the streets. For the past two months, Mithu had set me to learning how to be a clutcher. How to bump and hold people to send their minds elsewhere while I plucked or snicked a purse. He’d even given me a knife to do the job.
A piece of iron, thin and tapered, lacking any adornment. It was a good tool for a sparrow. A simple tug on bindings and one good snap, the knife would part a coin pouch from any surface with ease.
