The Girl of Hrusch Avenue (3 page)

It was on the fifth day that she spotted Taniel in the street. He was strolling along, wearing his school uniform, and looking inside barrels and under carts as if he were trying to find something.

Vlora scanned the streets for the Bulldog Twins, but there was no sign of them. Just as she was about to call out to Taniel, someone else caught her eye, causing her to duck down.

It was the cold-eyed gentleman. The one who wanted to purchase her from Amory.

He stood beside the door of a gunsmith's shop, speaking quietly with the gunsmith. His hands were clasped, back straight, and unlike that day two weeks before he was now wearing a sharp, dark blue uniform with silver trim—the uniform of an Adran army officer—and he had a small sword at his side and a pistol tucked into his belt.

Vlora poked her head out of her hiding spot. Taniel was further down the street, and the gentleman's back was to her.... She waited a moment, and the gentleman suddenly nodded to the gunsmith and then began to head down the street, away from Vlora.

She waited until he'd entered shop further down the avenue before calling to Taniel.

Taniel looked around in confusion, then up to her. He waved.

Vlora shimmied down her drain pipe and stopped in the alley, suddenly conscious of her dirty state. Her uniform was torn and muddy, her face unwashed for these four days, and her hands shook a little from hunger.

She couldn't let Taniel see her like this! She'd told him that she wasn't a street girl....

It was too late. Taniel came into the alley and he grinned at her. "Hi Vlora."

"Hi." She found the grin funny on his normally serious face, and she realized that dirty clothes were something Taniel wouldn't care about. It made her happy. "Were you looking for someone?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," Taniel said. "Bo is hiding somewhere. He said that if I find him before he's finished his fruit cake, he'll share it with me." Taniel seemed doubtful that he'd manage it. "He eats pretty fast, though."

"I could help," Vlora said.

"I'll give you some of the cake if you find him," Taniel said.

Vlora nodded, trying not to seem too eager.

They rushed into the street and began checking everywhere that a boy could conceal himself. Vlora knew all the best hiding spots—she'd used them to avoid the Bulldog Twins. She checked the old wine cask in the third alley, and under the wooden steps in front of Durn's Smithy. She even checked back up on the rooftops.

They both kept an eye out for the Bulldog Twins, and Vlora watched especially for the cold-eyed gentleman. She saw him once, but he was leaving Hrusch Avenue on foot and so she didn't worry too much.

Taniel finally sat down on the raised walk, his chin resting on one palm. "Bugger," he said. "I can normally find him. He probably cheated." He nodded at Vlora, as if it was decided. "Bo likes to cheat. He says that people who play fair always lose."

Vlora nodded back, but she was feeling sick. All the running around had reminded her how hungry she really was, and the promise of fruit cake had made her hopeful.

Her chest suddenly heaved, and she found herself fighting off tears. She knew she had to go back to Amory.

She'd have to take her punishment, locked in a dark cellar for two whole months. Amory might even sell her to the cold-eyed gentleman.

But at least Amory would feed her.

"Are you all right?" Taniel asked.

Vlora rubbed her nose on the back of her sleeve. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She wasn't going to show Taniel her weakness. No one liked a weak child.

"Are you hungry?" Taniel asked.

Vlora wanted to jump up and scream 'yes,' but she just shrugged her shoulders. "A little."

"There's a meat pie vendor around the corner," Taniel said. "I could go get some money from my dad and then we could share one."

Vlora hugged herself, wondering if Taniel could see inside her head. How could he know she was so hungry? Was it that obvious?

They began to walk toward the end of Hrusch Avenue, but Taniel suddenly stopped, ducking to one side.

"The Bulldog Twins?" Vlora asked, joining him in a smithy doorway.

"No," Taniel said. "It's Baron Fendamere. See? That's his coach."

The one-horsed coach sat at the end of the avenue. It was black with gold trim, and had running boards along both sides and a driver cloaked in crimson sitting up on the coach box. Baron Fendamere's pack-marked face stuck out of one window, and a gunsmith brought out a long brown package, tied with white string, and began to lash it to the roof of the coach.

"Do you want to get him?" Taniel asked.

"Maybe we should just go get a meat pie." The cut down Vlora's arm had finally healed, leaving just a wide, pink scar behind it. She
did
want to do something to the baron, but she wanted to eat more.

"Wait here," Taniel said.

He returned a moment later with a long steel bar, like the kind Vlora had seen through the windows of the smithies that gunsmiths used to make musket barrels. Taniel could barely carry it, but he had a mischievous grin on his face.

"Watch this," he said.

The baron's coach was moving now, coming toward them down the cobbles. Taniel jumped into the street and, as the coach moved past, thrust the steel bar into the spokes of the back wheel.

The wheel suddenly stopped and several of the spokes snapped, the coach lurching forward and then coming to a skidding halt as the driver reined in the horse. The door to the coach burst open and Baron Fendamere appeared, his pock-marked face red with anger.

Taniel took off down the street.

Vlora was just three steps behind him when she felt someone grab her hair. Her legs came out from under her as she was roughly jerked backward.

She stared up into the baron's eyes, seeing the promise of violence within them. She tried to pull away, but he had her firmly by the hair.

He stank of sweat and strong perfume.

"Got you," the baron said.

He threw her to the ground and put his boot on the back of her neck. Vlora's face pressed against the hot cobbles, and she heard a whimper escape her mouth. Further down the street, Taniel had turned to look and now stood, mouth agape.

"You're next, boy," the baron yelled.

Taniel ran.

"Get another coach," the baron said to his driver. "Hop to it, man. Commandeer one if you have to, I'm not standing in the streets with these mongrels any longer."

Vlora felt the boot press down hard against her neck, and then the weight was gone and the baron jerked her to her feet.

"Don't think I don't remember you, girl," he said, tightening his grip on the arm that still bore the scar he'd given her. "You startled my horse and then threw shit at me, and now you've broken my carriage..."

Vlora screamed and bit his wrist.

The baron let go just for long enough to crack her across the jaw with the back of his hand. "Scream all you want, girl. No one is going to help you." He leaned in to her, close enough that she could feel his hot breath, reeking of wine, against her neck. "You're going to be great sport for my dogs, girl. I'm going to take you out into the country tomorrow and watch as they tear you apart."

A coach clattered down the street, the driver yelling for people to move out of his way, and pulled up beside the ruined coach. The driver leapt down and opened the door for the baron.

Baron Fendamere took Vlora by the back of her neck and threw her violently into the cab. Vlora immediately scrambled for the opposite door, fumbling for the latch, but the baron leapt in behind her and pushed her onto one of the benches.

"You've got spirit, girl. You're going to give my dogs a chase." He thumped his fist on the ceiling. "Maybe I'll cut off one of your feet first, and watch you hop across the field as they come after you."

The baron looked out the window, his eyes far away and a smile on his lips.

"Damn it, man," he said suddenly, thumping on the roof of the coach again. "Why aren't we moving?"

The driver said, "There's a boy in front of the horse, sir. He won't move."

"Run him down, then," the baron bellowed.

A voice called out from the street, steady and cold above the racket of the city.

"If you run over my son you'll be dead where you sit. Baron Fendamere, step out of the coach, if you please."

The baron leaned forward and slapped Vlora, leaving her ears ringing. "Stay here," he said, kicking open the door. He raised his voice to address the man outside. "Who the pit do you think you are?"

"You know me, baron."

"Oh," the baron said, stopping just outside the carriage. "
You
."

There was a noise at the opposite door of the coach and it suddenly opened. Taniel and Bo stood there, eyes wide. Vlora could have sobbed with joy.

"Come on, Vlora," Taniel said.

She ducked outside with them and crept away from the coach. When they'd gotten far enough, Vlora broke into a run, only to come up short at Taniel's shout.

"Wait!"

She stopped and turned. Taniel and Bo had hidden themselves behind a stack of musket boxes just to one side of the coach. Reluctantly, Vlora joined them.

"Sorry I ran," Taniel said. "But I went and got help."

"Who?" Vlora asked.

Taniel pointed into the street. "My dad."

Vlora's heart almost stopped when she looked.

It was the cold-eyed gentleman in the army uniform. He stood just a dozen paces from the coach, his hands clasped behind his back, legs planted firmly. The similarities between Taniel and this man were suddenly apparent—the dark hair, the serious faces, and the lean build.

"Do you need something, Tamas?" the baron was saying. He was still beside his coach, one hand resting on the hilt of his small sword.

"That's 'field marshal,' to you, baron," Tamas said, lips beneath his black mustache twitching. "We're not on a named basis." His cold eyes bore into Fendamere, as if the baron were beneath him in every way. It was the same look that Vlora had seen on the baron's face when he looked upon commoners.

"Leave off, field marshal," the baron spat the last two words. "If you need me, you can call upon me in the morning."

"Your coachman was about to run over my son," Tamas said.

"He broke my coach," the baron said, thrusting a finger toward the discarded coach on the other side of the road.

Tamas turned toward where Vlora, Bo, and Taniel were hiding. "Taniel," he called. "Come here. You too, Bo."

Vlora hesitated behind the musket boxes as the two boys joined their father in the street. What was she to do? Taniel stopped half way to his father and gestured urgently for Vlora to join them.

She stood slowly, composing her dirty skirts around her knees. Chin held high, she followed Taniel to his father.

Baron Fendamere sneered, stepping toward her, and she almost ran.

"Baron!" Tamas barked. The man stopped. "Now," Tamas looked at his son. "Apologize, Taniel."

Taniel swallowed, wilting under his father's gaze. "I'm sorry, baron."

Tamas nodded sharply and turned to Fendamere. "I'll have the coach paid for. Be on your way, baron."

"That girl," Fendamere said, pointing to Vlora, "is coming with me."

"No she's not."

"What?"

"She's not."

"And who is to stop me?"

Tamas lay a hand on the hilt of his small sword.

"I won't hesitate to kill you, field marshal," Fendamere said, "King's favorite or not. You may be the field marshal, but you're still a low-born commoner."

"Duel me, then."

The baron seemed taken aback by the calm with which Tamas spoke the words.

"If you win, you can have all three children. Set your dogs on them. Whatever you like."

"You think you're good enough?" Fendamere scoffed. "You've a reputation, field marshal, but you know I'm better."

Tamas spread his arms, as if welcoming the baron's challenge.

"There's no honor to be had dueling with you," the baron said slowly, as if sensing a trap. "You're a damned powder mage. I know your vile kind. You'd use sorcery."

Tamas raised a hand. "I won't. I swear it."

"When?" the baron spit at Tamas' feet.

"Now. I haven't had an ounce of powder all day."

"Seconds?"

"Your coachman can be yours. My son can be mine."

"You'd have me slaughter you in front of your boy?"

Tamas tilted his head to one side. "Taniel," he said without looking at his son. "Tell the baron the terms of the duel."

"Small swords," Taniel said, as if he were used to this, "in the street. No sorcery. Agreed?"

The baron snarled at Tamas and tugged at the fingers of his gloves as if this were the final insult. "Agreed!" He whirled toward his coach and threw his gloves and jacket inside, then removed his belt and drew his sword.

Tamas turned toward Vlora and the two boys and began unbuttoning his jacket. His hands didn't shake like Vlora thought they might, and his mustache twitched with the corner of his mouth. Something else had entered his cold eyes, and Vlora thought...

Did this amuse him?

Tamas handed his jacket and belt to Bo, then checked his pistol and gave it to Taniel.

Tamas winked at Vlora and drew his sword, turning back to the baron.

The two men circled each other on the cobbles, and for the first time Vlora noticed that a crowd had gathered. Gunsmiths all down Hrusch Avenue had left their shops to see the fight. Drivers had stopped their horses to leave space for the men to fight.

Vlora could hear whispers among the crowd. Tamas' name was spoken with reverence, while it seemed that everyone knew the baron—his swordsmanship, according to one smith standing behind her, was legendary.

The baron dashed forward suddenly, and Tamas set his back leg, off-hand held out to one side for balance, and met the charge.

Vlora could feel her heart beating hard as the two men locked in combat. She didn't know the first thing about sword play and dueling, but she thought that despite his confidence, Tamas was bound to lose. The baron was bigger and stronger, and Tamas seemed to barely turn his sword thrusts.