was Fabbis down there. The voice had been high-pitched like a girl’s.
Talen cursed. Then he left the wagon and ran to down the lane to the source of the commotion.
He didn’t need to get involved. He could just assess what was going on, and, if needed, run to one of the houses and raise the hue and cry.
Talen skirted rounded the clump of trees and immediately saw the situation. There on his hands and knees was a boy. Talen didn’t recognize him. He was scrawny and dressed in filthy rags. Obviously, out of place here on Fuller’s Lane.
The boy attempted to scrabble away from Fabbis and Sabin. When he tried to rise, Sabin kicked the boy’s legs out from underneath him. But that wasn’t what made this beggar boy cry out.
Fabbis still held the rat snake by the tail. He was laughing so hard he was almost doubled over. Talen thought that maybe they were simply threatening the boy with the snake. But Fabbis regained his composure enough to swing the snake’s head up against the boy’s buttocks. The snake’s head bumped the boy, once, twice. On the third bounce it opened its mouth wide and bit deeply.
The boy cried out again with his high-pitched squeal, terror written on his face. He tried to run off again, but Sabin kicked him in the gut so hard it knocked the boy over.
“Pull up his tunic,” said Fabbis. “We’ll see if Zu Snake wants a taste of walnuts and sausage.”
Leave it to Fabbis to think something like this up. Rat snakes carried no venom, but that didn’t lessen the pain of their bite. Fabbis and Sabin had both gotten their clan wrists, which only proved those tattoos meant nothing. These two weren’t men.
Talen turned to see if Nettle had followed, if anyone had come, but he was alone.
Talen did not know this boy; he could quietly step back around the trees and wait for Nettle. Step back and let the Mokaddians do what they pleased. That would be the smart thing, but this would only get worse. Besides, hadn’t he been that boy only yesterday?
“Surely,” said Talen, “you could get at the vital parts a bit better by making him stand.”
Fabbis looked back over his shoulder. When he saw Talen, his face broke into a wicked grin. “I was just saying to Sabin here, wouldn’t it be nice if Turd Soup joined us? Where’s the Koramite lover you came with?”
“At the fuller’s.”
“Well, we don’t need to wait for him. Come on over here, half-breed. You can help.”
At one of the musters last year Talen had momentarily left his lamb soup to fetch a load of arrows for Da from the wagon. When he returned, he took a spoonful and found someone had slipped rabbit turds into the bowl. When he looked around, he’d seen Fabbis and Sabin watching him, grinning with delight.
Talen knew exactly what kind of help Fabbis meant. Usually Fabbis also had Cat with him, a boy who kept his dark hair oiled and shining and painted his eyes with kohl as many of the sons of the clan lords had begun to do. Talen looked about, but it appeared Fabbis and Sabin were alone. “Actually,” said Talen, “you’ve done me a great service. The fuller asked that I find his stable boy. And there he is. I’m sure the fuller would be interested to know how you’ve corrected him.” Talen held his hand out. “Now, come along, boy.”
The boy’s eyes were red. His face covered with dirt and tears.
Sabin began to let go his grip, but Fabbis put a hand out to stop him.
“This, a fuller’s boy?” Fabbis shook his head. “I don’t think so. Besides, the thief was sneaking into that house when we came along. We only thought to wring a confession from him. Maybe identify the members of his cabal. There’s never just one, you know.”
“I wasn’t stealing,” said the boy.
“Shut up,” said Sabin and clopped the boy on the head.
Talen knew what that felt like as well. He was positive the boy hadn’t been doing anything close to breaking and entering. He’d probably been walking along, minding his own business, and Fabbis had spied him and seen an opportunity for yet another small-minded torture. “I’m sure the street boss would commend your vigilance,” said Talen. “Not to mention the fuller. Think what it would cost him were his servant to be caught stealing. Let’s take him to the fuller; I’m sure he’ll reward you just