Allan dodged.
He knew there was a risk about going into the den of one of the gangs of boy thieves. He would be outnumbered if there was trouble. He decided not to enter the abandoned store that one group was hiding out in until close to dawn. Those in the group who had been out would be tired from the night’s activity. The rest would be asleep.
Allan’s attention focused on the boy who appeared to be the oldest. That boy wasn’t the largest in the group, and that was why Allan wanted to question him. The bigger boys were the tough ones, from his experience, while the older ones acted more like leaders. He needed a leader if he was going to learn more about this gang.
He thought he had come in without much noise. He thought he had approached his target quietly. Most of the children in the group were sleeping on the ground floor. The boy Allan wanted was in the remains of a room on the second floor. Allan was aware that there were two or three other boys nearby on the second floor. His hope had been that he would be able to snatch his prey and be gone before anyone noticed.
One of the other boys heard or saw something, because just as Allan was about to open the door, he heard footsteps racing towards him. He turned; one of the larger boys was charging at him.
“What do you want?” the boy demanded. His voice was low but menacing.
“The boy in charge,” Allan snapped.
He bent down and thrust out his right arm. He cast a spell. A concentrated burst of wind struck his attacker in the gut. The impact sent the boy to the floor. He hit with a loud thump.
Allan was about to open the door again when two more boys emerged from another room. One of the boys held a club; the other, a kitchen knife. The hallway was wide enough for them to approach, but too narrow for both of them to come at Allan together. They exchanged a momentary glance.
The boy with the knife nodded and came at Allan first. Allan dodged the boy’s first strike, then his second. He waited for the third thrust to slap the boy’s knife hand to the side. He punched the boy in the belly. Before the boy could react to the blow, Allan hit him in the nose. The boy staggered back.
The boy with the club came at Allan. He tried to hit Allan with an overhand swing. Allan blocked the club with the gauntlet on his left arm. He used that arm to push away the boy’s arm. Once again he struck at the face, and again his fist sent an opponent reeling.
An instant later the door Allan had wanted to open did open. The boy Allan had wanted to get his hands on came through the doorway. Unlike the other two, this boy was slender and average in height. His dark hair was a shaggy mess. He already had a dagger in his right hand. He ran at Allan.
Allan let the boy thrust his weapon at him. The edge of the blade hit his chest. The spell cast into Allan’s leather armor held. The thrust was such that, when the magic kicked back the impact, the dagger slipped from the boy’s hand.
Allan backhanded the boy across his face. He grabbed the boy by his shirt and dragged him back down the hallway. He stopped at the next doorway. There was no door, so Allan peeked through. The roof was completely gone from that room, as was a chair-sized piece of the floor.
Allan looked back down the hallway. The other three boys had recovered from their blows. The boy with the knife was in the lead. “This ends now,” he said to Allan.
“I agree,” Allan replied.
He focused his energy on a fire spell. An instant later a ball of flame the size of a man’s head appeared between him and trio. Allan forced the ball to the floor of the hallway. Like a raindrop hitting the street, the ball flattened and spread. The floor instantly caught fire. The three boys turned and ran from the flames.
“Get us out of here!” the slender boy said.
Allan swung the boy around so that he faced him. “Answer my questions, or I’ll toss you into the fire.”
“Yeah! Anything!”
“Who do you take your orders from?”
“Merrick! Merrick, on the Street of the Bass.”
“Who is he?”
“He has the pawn shop, on the Street of the Bass!”
“What’s his cut of what you steal?”
“One-quarter.”
“When do you give him his cut?”
“I was going to take him his cut tomorrow night. Tonight, I guess!”
“What else do you do for him?”
“Let me go! We’ll burn up!”
Allan shook the boy. “What else?”
“If you have a sister, who looks fair, he’ll take her in.”
“Fine. Sleep.”
Allan cast a sleep spell on the boy. In a moment the boy’s face went from fearful, to dull, to asleep. Allan drew his flying wand with his left hand. He dragged the boy into the room. He tapped the wand. He wrapped his right arm around the boy’s left arm. The two rose through the open roof.
Allan looked around. The children had fled the building and gathered in the street. A couple of them saw him still holding their leader. He guided his flight path so he and his prisoner flew over the children. None of them did anything to stop him. They looked, stunned into silence.
Allan tried to think of what he might say to them. The weight of his prisoner shoved his attention back to flying. He carried the sleeping youth over the city in the predawn darkness. He headed for an abandoned farmhouse about a quarter of a day’s walk from the city. Allan had chosen the house as a hiding place for when he didn’t want to return to the castle.
He pushed the front door to the house open. He laid the boy down on the floor of the cooking area. Allan picked up a chair and sat down to rest.
He’ll be asleep for several hours. Still, I’d better tied him up now, since I need to get some sleep. Once I’m rested, and he’s woken up, I’ll try to get more out of him.
Then, tonight, I’ll pay a visit to this Merrick on the Street of Bass.