Mark of the Thief (Mark of the Thief 1) - Page 12

"I won't cause any trouble." I meant the words, but they still sounded untrue. Especially with the problem already hanging from a strap around my shoulder, which bore a scratch that people would kill for.

Felix frowned, and then grabbed my arm as a passing merchant jokingly called over to him, "Your new slave is young, Felix. Let's hope this one isn't also eaten by tigers."

Though the man who had spoken laughed loudly, it was hardly a joke. My head shot up. "Also?"

"The tigers are not your biggest problem right now." Felix pushed me back up the ramp and into a corner of the caravan where he clamped a manacle down on one leg. "Stay quiet, if you know what's good for you."

"You said I'd get water!" I called. "Please!"

Felix called for Aurelia to come over. "Don't get close to that boy, but keep an eye on him."

Once she was inside, he closed and locked the door behind us.

"You promised me water!" I yelled. And when he didn't respond, I drove my elbow into the side of the caravan, wanting him to know how angry I was. How desperate my thirst.

Across from me, Aurelia gasped, and then I saw why. My elbow had left a deep dent in the metal wall. I couldn't explain how. I only knew that I had done it.

She pulled out her knife and faced me as the caravan began to drive. "Stay away from me," she muttered. "You're cursed."

"I'm not," I said, but the lie sounded insincere, even to me. Every part of me understood that she was absolutely correct. Maybe I hadn't escaped Caesar's ghost in that cave after all.

In the caravan, Aurelia had a skin of water sloshing at her side, and outside it had begun to rain. They were painful reminders of my thirst, taunting me. Aurelia hadn't stopped staring at me since we left, except to glance at the dent I'd made with my elbow. Then she'd shudder and darken her glare.

"I need some of your water," I told her.

"Felix put that chain on your leg for a reason," she said. "Maybe you'll tell me why."

Maybe not. Her hand still gripped her knife, and the last thing I needed was trouble from her too. I said, "I don't belong in chains. I'm not dangerous."

"I'm sure you're as harmless as a butterfly. If a butterfly could dent metal, of course."

"It's a warm morning. The metal must've gone soft."

"It could be hotter than Apollo's sun, and that metal still wouldn't have softened."

"Give me that water."

Aurelia pulled the skin from over her shoulder, uncorked the opening, and took a drink.

"Please, Aurelia."

She started to cork it again, but I lurched forward, hoping to somehow reach far enough to grab it from her. The chain on my leg pulled tight, then, with a knocking sound, it gave me two more inches. I glanced back and saw the bolt that had fastened the chain to the floor had come loose. But I still wasn't close enough to Aurelia.

"I was going to give it to you. Now you're threatening me?" she asked.

"Threatening you? No, I just need the water!"

"Then take it!" She tossed it to me and her eyes fell upon the loosened bolt.

I didn't want to think about how it had pulled free so easily. Instead, I swallowed the water in giant gulps and too quickly the water was gone. She stared at me the entire time, her finger stroking the crepundia around her neck. There were at least a dozen carved miniatures on it, all strung together on a leather cord. Several were symbols of the harvest, a bundle of wheat or a bunch of grapes. I also noticed an old Roman coin and a carving of a timepiece, but the largest of all was a sickle crossed with a knife that wasn't much different from the real knife Aurelia carried with her. In the center was a satchel only a little smaller than the bulla. Maybe hers also held gems.

I wondered why she might put so much value on what was only a child's plaything. Then I felt the bulla against my side. It was for children too.

I corked the skin and tossed it back to her. "Thank you."

"Something's not right," she said. "I still don't trust you."

Which was fine, given that I still didn't like her. My fingers traced the outlines of the bulla, and I wished I could take it out and study it closer. Whatever Felix decided to do with me next, he knew about the mark and probably the bulla too. Once he forced me to show it to him, he'd accuse me of having stolen it, which, probably, I had. I'd be immediately killed for that.

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Mark of the Thief Fantasy
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