The Desert Rose - 1

Hi guys! This is the first part of my Shiny New Idea. I wrote this all in one sitting last night, but it's new and it's fresh and I haven't submitted in ages, so let me know what you think - particularly regarding setting, and characters!

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East Gate was the perfect place to catch unsuspecting pilgrims. They poured through the foot gates with their newly stamped papers, stuffing them back into their bags, stopping to fill canteens from the city water fountains. The rich ones were easy to spot – they were cleaner, less tired, and they waited for camels to come through the main gate. Their shoes were lighter, their clothes not bleached by sun and sand. Steni failed to understand how it was a true pilgrimage if you used a camel to get through the desert. But she was glad of the practice, because it made her job so much easier.

She picked today’s targets immediately. A small couple, black haired and pale skinned, dressed in flowing purple and gold robes they had presumably purchased purely for this visit. The man was rolling their papers up tight to put them into the woman’s knapsack. As he leant forward, his money bag swung forward from underneath his robe.

Perfect.

Steni glanced at her reflection in a bottle on a nearby stall, and licked her hand and tried to tame the hair sticking up at the crown of her head. There was a smear of dirt on her right cheek that she tried to scratch away, but her fingernails were caked with sand already. She really needed a bath. If this job went well, maybe she could get back into the house tonight without having to worry about bumping into Bax. That money bag would surely be enough for this month’s repayment.

She looked up, to where a man was taking advantage of the shade of the stall – tall and dark and outrageously good-looking. He was watching her actions. “You missed a bit,” he said, reaching out a long arm and flattening a piece of hair on top of her head.

Steni shook his hand off. “Get away from me, creep,” she said and turned back to her targets. They were still there, watching the dirge-slow progress of camels through the gate.

Steni put on her best show-face and bounded forwards.

“Good morning, sir and madam,” she said, huge fake grin plastered across her face. “Is this your first visit to our great Oasis City of Moresha? Are you looking for a guide?”

The man eyed her suspiciously – skinny slum child in scruffy shoes that she was. But the woman’s face lit up. “We have never been before,” she said, her Khalua stilted but confident.

The man spoke rapid-fire to her in a language Steni didn’t know. His wife gave a minuscule nod of assent. “We must wait for our camel, and then leave our luggage in the guesthouse before we are to see any of the sights, though,” she explained. “So perhaps not for the moment.”

“Are you sure?” Steni said, selling it for all she had. “I am very good value – just forty lire for one day.”

“Altogether?” the woman asked, mouth round in surprise.

“Each,” Steni said, arching an eyebrow.

The man muttered gruffly in their native tongue and grabbed his wife’s arm. Steni hid a smile as he dragged her away, and instead ran after them.

“Thirty each, then!” she said, running after them and putting a hand on the man’s shoulder to round on him, blatantly invading his personal space. “Oh, I’m sorry-“ she said, stepping back immediately. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m sure your tours are excellent, miss, but for now, we must go,” the woman said, impatience overriding her voice.

Steni put her hands behind her back and bowed. “I understand, madam. Thank you for your time.”

She turned away and walked, one, two, three, four, five paces. She heard the cry of outrage, and grinned, stuffing the pregnant money bag down the front of her shirt and breaking into a run.

Guards in Moreshan blue dotted the crowds around East Gate, and quickly came to the aid of the couple. Steni slowed to a walk again, blending into the crowd a safe distance away, until a cry went up, “There! That’s her!” Then the booming voice of a captain, amplified with the crackling, thick overtone of magic: “Please, citizens and visitors to Moresha, do everything you can to stop that thief- she is small, black haired, wearing brown.”

Steni swore and ran again, straight into the mess of stalls that sold overpriced gimmicks and fake charms to pilgrims, getting in between the crack of space of two stalls and skirting the wall behind them then ducking into an alleyway. It was an old escape route of hers – getting halfway down to where a balcony jutted out from the first floor. Steni took a running leap and managed to grab one of its pillars with both hands. It took nearly all her energy to pull herself up onto it, but from there she could clamber to the next- and the next- and onto the rooftop.

The heat of the near-noon sun was sweltering up here, but the rooftops were clear of dust and the stink of camel dung. Steni tiptoed across the roofs of this row, and managed to find enough footholds to climb up onto the tall building at the end. Here she flattened herself against the roof and peered out over the edge to watch for guards. Nothing. The alleyway was deserted. She rolled over onto her back and exhaled in relief. Steni allowed herself a short smile, then pulled the bag out again and peered in. She reckoned there was about four hundred lire in here, enough for the man to pay for their accommodation and food and guides here in the city. Steni felt a little guilty at ruining their pilgrimage, but they were rich. The City Council would look after them like it looked after all the rich pilgrims.

And besides, more fool them for trekking into the desert to look at a ruby.

Steni waited until her breathing evened out, and then another twenty minutes, before carefully peeling herself off the roof and hopping down to the lower one, then dropping to a wide windowsill. She grabbed onto this with her hands and let her body hang for a second, in mid-air, before dropping to the ground in a crouch. She stood up, and brushed the puff of dust her landing had created off herself. Not that it made any difference, considering how much dust was already on her. Making sure the purse was secure, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and sloped back off to the house.

Four hundred lire. It seemed like a lot – but the Kilruddin family claimed that Steni owed them sixty thousand for her housing and education over the years. She had started working, earning her keep, at fourteen. But the ten years before that had accrued debt, and now not only was she supposed to pay rent on her pallet in a room that stunk of feet, and the slop that they were given in the kitchen called dinner, but also pay off the expenses of keeping an orphan alive.

Steni didn’t like it. It wasn’t as if she had asked Knash Kilruddin to take her in.

The house that kept her was a couple of streets away. Here the city was busier, and grimier. Everything was coated in red dust, nobody bothered to scrub walls or clothes here. The smell was less of camel waste and more of human waste, but also cooking and spices. There was music, there was laughter, there was chatter. There were whores that, to someone who didn’t have the Sight like Steni, looked like the most beautiful women on earth. But Steni knew they were glamours and that underneath, they were probably middle-aged and bearded.

Steni stopped at a stall that was selling hot pastries. The smell made her stomach grumble. This wasn’t a luxury she normally allowed herself, but today she had money. A lot of money.

“How much?” she asked the tender, who told her they were thirty bits. Steni kept the stolen bag safely stowed away, but dug in her pocket for the small change that she had for herself, and picked out a few coppers. She went to drop them into the tender’s outstretched hand, but before she could, another hand interrupted it.

“I don’t think so,” drawled a voice. “Sorry,” it said to the tender, “but this money belongs to Knash Kilruddin.”

The tender knew better than to say anything, and kept his head down. Steni whirled round and looked up into the broken-toothed smile of Bax, Knash’s nephew who thought he owned Steni.

“That’s my money,” she told him, feeling her face heat up.

“I don’t think you understand,” he told her. He put an arm over her shoulders, which made her shudder, but he was too tall for her to shake it off, “you don’t have any money. Not to spend on pastries. Every lire you have, every bit, belongs to the Kilruddins.” He flicked one of her coppers up in the air and caught it. He laughed as he slipped the coins into his own pocket – beneath the wicked looking knife he wore bare on his black leather belt.

Bax led her into an alley, as much as Steni tried to resist with every step. It was narrow, no more than five feet across, and dark. Not even Moreshan sunlight found its way in here.

And as soon as they were out of sight, Bax slammed her up against the wall, his broken teeth showing as he snarled. He had his initials tattooed where his hairline would be if he didn’t shave his head, and they wrinkled up now as his face contorted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“That was my money, Bax!” Steni wriggled, trying to get out of his grip, but his hand was firm in pushing her shoulder up against the wall. “I have yours right here.”

“Where?” he asked. “Because I gotta tell you, Knash isn’t pleased with your repayments.”

It was a bluff. A lie. Knash probably didn’t even know her name. But Bax would be nothing if not for his uncle. The boss was his only bargaining chip.

“If you’d let me move-“ Steni wriggled some more and eventually Bax released her shoulder. His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath, hot and stinking.

Steni reached a hand down her shirt and pulled out the purse. “There’s four hundred lire there,” she told him.

“Four hundred?” He sneered. “What a dent that’ll make.”

“That’s one day’s work,” she told him defiantly.

“And one more day before we kick you out. It’s a week overdue.”

“I haven’t slept in my bed for a week,” Steni said, “So I shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

“But you see, little girl, we’re saving your spot. What have you been doing for that week if you haven’t been earning?”

Scavenging, she thought. Hiding from sandstorms. Surviving. The week had been an experiment. But with nowhere to sleep and nowhere to hide, and the fear of being caught, it was clear: Steni couldn’t survive without the Kilruddin family.

“I earned today, and that’s what matters. I was due to pay five hundred. There’s four hundred. Take it. I’ll get you the rest.”

“But this is already late.” Bax licked his lips. “Interest, little girl. It’s gone up. You owe six hundred this month.”

“Fine. Then let me go and take a bath, and then I’ll get the rest.”

“A bath?” Bax leant yet closer, and Steni shuddered, closed her eyes. “You know, there is one way that you could lessen your debt…” She tried to jerk her head away, but his voice lowered to a whisper, and spittle rained on her ear. “Make me happy, and I’ll let Knash know what a good little girl you are.”

Steni stamped hard on his foot. Bax yowled in rage, and before she had time to react, drew back his fist and punched her in the face.

Steni’s head whacked against the wall with the impact. The world broke into a million pieces in front of her eyes, and she slid to the ground.

“Maybe another week out of the house will do you good.” Bax crouched and picked up the purse. “And I’ll take this for the damage you just did to my foot. You owe us another six hundred, little girl. And it better be soon.”

Bax’s voice faded away. Steni shut her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was woozy and was going to pass out, or sick and nervous and just wanted to pass out. Blood dripped off her nose into her hands, down the back of her throat into her mouth.

“Holy Radia, are you alright?”

The voice was weirdly familiar, as if she had just heard it. Though her vision was blurry, she could see someone crouch beside her.

Steni focused enough to catch a face, then decided she must be dreaming. It was the good-looking guy from East Gate. He was pulling a scrap of red cloth out of his pocket.

“Here,” he said, pushing the cloth onto her nose.

She took it in her own hands. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She crushed her eyes shut, hoping that the world would resolidify when she opened them. It didn’t.

She shut them again and instead concentrated on trying to stop her head throbbing. “What are you doing here?” she repeated to the stranger.

“Well, I thought I was helping you out after a vicious attack,” he said. “But maybe not.”

“Who are you?” She narrowed her eyes in his direction, rearranging the blood-soaked cloth on her face.

“The name’s Nic.”

“Are you following me, Nic?” She had tried so hard not to be followed.

“I am. You’re a hard person to follow. Don’t worry, I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Then what do you want? Do you have a pickpocket fetish or something?”

“Something like that.” He grinned. It was a nice grin. The type of grin that probably won the hearts of girls all over. Steni figured it was probably a glamour. “Do you feel any better? Can you stand?”

He went to snake an arm around her waist but she shoved him away. “I can do it myself,” she said, grappling with the wall to pull herself up, only for her legs to collapse under her again.

The stranger – Nic – grabbed her. “Come with me,” he said, “I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

“I don’t need your help, stop,” she protested weakly, and twisted sharply away from him. The movement made her lose her balance completely and she saw the ground rushing up to her eyes and then she saw nothing at all.