teasing put to the side, and they were brother and sister. Now they were pirates, they were bandits, they were highwaymen who held up laughing sailors and got thrown a few copper pennies. They were duellists. They fought halfway along the dock before the old duellist grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck, and laughed like all his name days had come at once.
“Knew I’d find me some good uns down by the docks. It’s all the salt in the air, see, hardens the bones and quickens the blood. Now, let’s go and give your parents the good news, eh?”
So they did, though once the duellist – Eneko he introduced himself as – discovered they were brother and sister he tried to back off. “I’ll take one from you,” he said to Vocho’s da. “But not even the guild would be so cruel as to take two, and your only two at that. I’ll take the girl. She’s the quickest I’ve seen in a long time; she’s got enough heart for two men, and the guts of a few more. The boy will get another chance another year, if he’s still willing, perhaps. He’s a cunning little devil. A bit too cunning perhaps.”
“But…” Vocho protested. Kacha always got to do the fun stuff, while he only got to watch because he was “too young” or “too stupid” or “too useless”. A look from his father silenced him, but not for long. “But I want to go too!”
Kacha glared at him from under her blonde curls. “Can’t I go anywhere on my own for once? Da, please! Ma, tell him.”
Their father had sat down in the rickety chair that was his by the mean fire. Not only did someone want to take his precious Kacha away from him, she wanted to go. It seemed to squeeze all the air out of him, like the balloons down at the market that went all saggy after a bit. For the first time Vocho realised how old he was, noticed that the grey in his hair was no longer a sprinkle but a blanket. The lines in his face seemed gouged there by age and regret. Vocho looked over at Ma, and while she was younger, he saw the same weariness born of long work for too little reward, the toll of too little money and too much pride perhaps.
Finally, Ma said, “We’ll talk it over. An hour?”
Eneko inclined his head, winked at Kacha and said, “An hour it is, but no more. I’m to have my recruits in the guildhall by sunset. We like to get them settled before the change o’ the clock.”
When he’d gone, their parents had talked together in low voices for a while. Neither Kacha nor Vocho dared to interrupt, though Kacha had given Vocho a look that could wither stones. “Why can’t you never let me do nothing on my own? Why do I always have to take you too?”
There was a lot Vocho wanted to say to that, but he didn’t have the words for it then.
A few choice phrases leaped out from their parents’ whispered conversation. Da saying, “They can take the boy off our hands – won’t need to feed him then,” and, “I suppose they’ll send him back when they realise what he’s like.” Vocho gritted his teeth – it wasn’t anything he’d not heard a hundred times. Da tried to put his foot down, but Ma’s face was the one that meant no one argued, not even Da. Vocho never knew what it was she said but Da agreed in the end. Finally they turned to the two of them.
“Well, then. It’s a chance most don’t get. A chance to get out of this place.” Their father waved a hand at the shack they currently called home. “Chance to better yourselves. Earn a decent living. Honest work too. No matter what the king’s like, the duellists stick to their code and their honour. They’re their own masters even if they work for the king at times. Fearful hard though, I hear. Fearful hard.”
Kacha stood up straight. “I’m not afraid, Da.”
“I know you’re not, Kacha, I know.” Da beamed at her, pride oozing from every creased wrinkle, the kind of smile he only ever gave Kacha.
“Neither am I,” Vocho chimed in, earning a glare from his sister.
Da gave him a sour look – the only kind Vocho ever got from him, like he was something nasty his father had stepped in, but