Beggars and Bandits
15 YEARS LATER...
In the dimly lit marketplace, amidst the hustle and bustle of merchants and shoppers, a young girl covered in dust and grime scurried about. She looked frail--stick thin--light as a feather. Her hair is strewn all over the place like she had been attacked by a bunch of birds.
With her tattered apron dress that looked and smelled like pus, she blended perfectly in the market; barely getting attention to herself other than the occasional jeer and taunts.
"Get out here, girl, there's nothing here for you." spat an apple merchant as she walked by with a longing look on her face.
Adina did not bother gracing that insult with a reply. After all, she did not come there for his apples, but for a strapping middle-aged man looking at the lemons. The group had been eyeing this man for weeks, learning his strengths and weaknesses, and his daily routines.
He goes to the market only on Tuesdays. Likes to start at the mouth of the river, making his way to each stall until he reaches the city center. Fixated on citron fruits for no apparent reason, and today he happens to be particularly scrutinous of the lemons.
He's a pig of a buyer too--always bargaining for ludicrous discounts on the goods. As if that wasn't enough, he's commonly seen mocking the beggars and screaming at children. "Useless, the lot of them," she once heard him say. "Maybe if they worked, they wouldn't need to beg in the streets half-naked."
She found the perfect opportunity as he haggled with the vendor. Pretending to trip on a rock, she fell into him, deftly picking his side pouch from his belt and throwing it far and wide as she did so. Just as quickly, a boy with red hair caught the heavy pouch, emptied the coins into his pocket, and tossed the empty bag somewhere in the crowd.
In the few seconds it took to try to balance herself while holding the fat man's shoulders, two other boys had pillaged his saddle bags and a few things from his wagon. Even after he pushed her into the ground and drove off swearing, he was none the wiser.
With a rather dreamy look on her face, Adina took her precious time getting up from the ground.
"It's that beggar girl again," the vendor muttered to the next stall. "Runs off a perfectly good customer." He rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Off with you now, girl," he snarled as he hauled her up and pushed her away. "Nothing but trouble," she heard him mutter to himself. Another vendor answered, "she's better off whoring herself to a pleasure house than begging on the streets; with looks like that, heck even I'd go there and make her decently rich."
Pigs, she thought. Some men are nothing but barbaric pigs.
Maintaining the façade was easy enough, but it was times like these she wishes she could drop all pretense and give them a piece of her mind. If only it wouldn't endanger their operations.
Her role in the gang is simple. She was the mentally challenged beggar--the girl with a constant far-away look on her face, wandering the streets aimlessly. She would approach unsuspecting passersby, mumbling incoherently, receiving a few coins as pity alms. In truth, she was scouting for wealthy buyers to loot--those that look too happy in a society full of suffering, whose bellies look too full when others are starving. Those kinds of people had it coming.
Turning the corner, she looked back to check she wasn't being followed. As expected, people are bustling to and fro, lost in their own problems and thoughts.
Safe in the shadows, Adina allowed herself to smile. That buyer was the last target today and she could finally relax. She wiped the glossy look from her eyes, turned her uncoordinated movements into a solid stance. Then, she ran.
She ran as fast as her legs could take her, arms open wide and head tilted back across the sky. She let the wind blow her disheveled hair away, relishing the wind in her eyes. The air stank of fish, but these alley ways are her home now. The only place where she could truly be herself.
Gracefully, she climbed up the side of a dilapidated building and landed on the balcony, startling the three young men counting loot. They whipped around, weapons ready, until they realize it was only her.
"Adina!" the red-headed boy sounded exasperated as he put away his arrows. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on us like that?"
"Who said I was sneaking up on you? This just happens to be the most convenient way to get up here," she pointed to the balcony. "You're just easily caught off-guard," she said with a laugh.
"Oh, whatever, come here and see what we've got", cried Alex. His long blond hair covered his eyes as he hunched over the bags, and Adina had to repress the urge to clip it back.
"More than yesterday, no? Probably the biggest loot we've had so far."
"Dymitri, you think every loot is bigger than last time." Ravi rolled his eyes.
"It is, though," Alex replied. "Not enough to last us a week, but enough that we don't have to go out hunting in a few days."
"That includes the poor house, no?" Dymitri quipped.
"Including the poor house, yes."
Adina plopped down on a couch and looked out towards the city. From this height, she could see the market trail from the river, all the way to the city center where beggars and scoundrels both run amok. The poor house is on the other side of the city, somewhere through the canals. It was more of a shack than a house, though--some place where the poorest of the poor gather to commiserate and curse the monarchs.
Majority of those who gather in the poor house are women and children. Most of them starving, some of them sick, and some of them actively dying. The Nameless, as they call themselves, exchange half of their loot for supplies like medicine and food. The people in the poor house depend on them for rations.
"Whose turn is it to go to the Exchange?" Dymitri asked. "It's you, Ravi, no?"
Ravi only nodded and asked them to toss him the bag. "Come, Adina. I'd need your help for this one."