Home

Weave swung off the balcony and grinned. She tossed her chief, Cal, a bundle of silks she’d snatched from a nearby merchant. Weave had been a thief from the time that her parents had burnt in the fire. But after her old granny saved her, she ran away to the other kids. These kids had decided to make a way for themselves. It’s good training for later life, thought Weave, trying to convince herself.

She had earned her name from the way she could weave through a crowd without being caught. Her proving grounds to join the group had been to steal a golden ring from under the nose of the wealthy peddler in the streets of Calham. But she knew what she had to do, after five years: it was time to repay an important debt and move on. But first she gave Cal a goodbye present of silk scarves. Well it was more like her ticket out.

Cal nodded to Twist, who said quietly, “I’ll come with you on this journey.”

Weave sighed and said, “But your aunt--”

“She can do without me for a while; I’m getting in the way of her life now.” Twist looked out the window to where her aunt’s small cottage lay. A small brunette girl ran out with her braids swinging every which way.

Weave nodded and packed a ragged blanket and the lock picks that had given Twist her name.

As they started down the road, Twist handed a small bundle of twyuhams, sweet pastries, to the little girl at the cottage.

Looking at them with sharp green eyes, she asked them solemnly, “Where are ye going?”

“Home,” Weave answered with a sad smile. “Home.”

In the next village they stopped at a beaten-down cottage. An old lady carrying a basket full of potions hobbled over. “Maez, is that you?” she asked, peering blearily through old rusty glasses.

“Yes, Nere, it is.” Weave smiled a crooked grin, and the two girls stepped into the humble dwelling where they helped the old lady till the end of days.