Rat the Thief, vol 1, Book 2

he reason the merchants had been guarding their warehouses increasingly dearly was because the Thieves Guild had become more active in the last several years, and nobody wanted to be an easy target. Rat and her family were not members of the Thieves Guild, although that distinction wouldn't mean much to anyone who wasn't a thief. If you stole something, you stole something, as far as most were concerned. The Thieves Guild, though, was large and well-organized, with a history as far-reaching as any of the more openly active and respectable guilds. They didn't go for anything below a certain profit level, and left the little groups, Rat's family and others like them, chiefly alone. The warehouse that Rat had snuck into last night wasn't a likely target for the guild - far from it - but merchants were wary all the same, and the guild had become so active lately that the paranoia was widespread.

There were a lot of rumors circulating about why the guild was out-stepping its traditional bounds, especially amongst the disgruntled lesser thieves. Mr. Gravely, who was Uncle Linus's best man for pawning stolen goods, thought that there was an in-guild civil war, and the divided sides were vying for precedence, trying to out-do one another. Other people speculated intrigue. A popular theory involved the mayor of the city bribing the guild to steal from rich merchants, to lessen their political sway, and some people even thought it might be the Royal Family behind the whole affair.

The most worrying rumor of all, perhaps, was that a new, ambitious leader had taken over the Thieves Guild, and not content with being secretive and discreet, was attempting to lead them towards something more, something very grand, though nobody knew what. Anyone who thought about it, though, could guess that by now, with all that profit, they were starting to be very rich indeed.

After eating breakfast, and drinking tea, Rat bundled up in her many-times-patched and re-mended boy's jacket, and warm knitted scarf, and braced herself for the icy Sun's Dusk-morning air. Aunt Milly had given her several errands, which mainly involved fetching groceries at the market, and she hadn't needed to remind Rat to take advantage of any opportunities to pick a likely-looking pocket. It had been Aunt Milly, and not Uncle Linus, who'd taught Rat the sleight of hand involved in that. Nobody was better than innocuous-looking Aunt Milly: plump, shawled and aproned, and the last person you'd believe had cut your purse from your belt.

The Market was near the   of the city, at the convergence of the poorest district (where Rat lived), and the somewhat less poor (and significantly less shifty) district. In the near distance, above the roofs of other buildings, you could see the high walls and parapets that guarded the houses and grounds and gardens of the affluent.

Rat slid through the shoppers easily, still short and slender for her age (to Aunt Milly's constant displeasure, who considered it an insult to her child-raising abilities that Rat simply would not grow). It was easiest to pick pockets when the milling people were massed this thickly, all elbow to elbow, and she could use the crowd as a kind of canopy while she ducked and darted beneath, fingering through the coin purses, pinching what looked to be the fattest and the best-laden. She'd been lucky never to have gotten caught - not without escape, at least. A boy several years older than her, Penn, had lost his hand last winter, when a city guard caught him in the act - nobody bothered putting minor criminals to trial, and punishment was exacted on the spot. Rat often thought of Penn, when she was out working in the streets. He swept floors at the local inn now, although she suspected that he augmented his very unimpressive wages by stealing from the customers - Penn was still good, even one-handed.

By the time Rat had finished all her errands, she'd pilfered enough to buy what Aunt Milly had asked for, and lunch for herself besides (her aunt was able to observe with pleasure, at least, that although she was too small, her appetite was unquestionably healthy). Some days, when there was enough to spare, she'd go to the vendor who sold meat and mushroom pies, and buy two; however, today she fingered her earnings regretfully, and made-do with her standard bowl of soup and heel of bread, knowing that Aunt Milly, although she hadn't asked, was hoping for some small profit at the day's end.

Rat finished her lunch, and was about to make her way homeward, back through the swarm of people, her aunt's packages in a neat bundle tucked under her arm, when she caught sight of Mr. Gravely alone at the edge of the crowd. Veering towards him, she waved, trying to catch his eye. When she finally did, however, he started, and with a guilty glance backwards, scuttled off in the other direction, dodging indignant merchants and trying to look purposeful.