Tommy led the five Littlelings through the gate and into the Builders District. Varis had three entrances, and the Builders District’s entrance was the smallest and most heavily used by the merchants, since it was the closest to the Central District. In the rain, though, few traders followed as Tommy entered. She had a few coins left over from the week’s trades, and she decided to surprise her Littlelings with some morning treats. She fingered the few coins in her pouch and passed by eateries and street vendors, who plied their goods under awnings during this season. She was very careful with what little money she spent on treats, and she only bought items that were worth what they were sold at. It was easy to be frugal when you had so little, and Tommy and her Littlelings had even less than little.

The bakery she stopped in was warm and dry and smelled of wonderful baked items. The Littlelings crowded in behind Tommy after they realized where she was stopping. A large brick stove sat in the back of the bakery surrounded by piles of wood. The baker was a large man with a red face that was covered in powder from the baking flour. He wore a white apron, which bulged out like rising dough around his belly. He casually held a wooden stick with a large spatula on one side in his two hands like a staff. Tommy knew why he held the stick. He was readying himself to chase them out of the bakery if they said the wrong thing.

“Morning, baker, sir,” Tommy said in her sweetest, most obsequious voice. The voice was not difficult for her, but convincing merchants that she was sweet or innocent was difficult because of her size. She looked five years older than she was, and she knew she cut an intimating sight, especially when she was surrounded by the Littlelings, who always seemed to be dirty, and played more often than not with the tiny daggers they wore along their worn belts. They did not look like innocent children. When children see and do as much as the Littlelings do before they turn eight, it is difficult to compare them to normal children.

The baker looked on wearily. “You and your rascals stay near the door and tell me what you want. If it’s trouble, then just turn yourselves around and come back from where you came. I’ll have none of it here.”

The baker took a few swings with his pole, which set the Littlelings to laughing in their high-pitched squeals. Tommy suppressed a smile and tried to shush them. While she ostensibly led the Littlelings, she found that they did what they wanted to do when they wanted to do it and strange times. This was one of them. Sam, a boy of about eight, began walking around the walls of the bakery and used his knife to pick at the mortar between the bricks. When he pulled out a big piece, he examined it and tossed it aside, looking up at the baker and daring him to say something. The baker stayed quiet.

Tommy chewed on her lip and watched Sam for a few minutes. She then remembered why she came in here, and it was not to hustle the baker for money. It had become more and more difficult to get protection money from shopkeepers. The protection money the governors’ guardsmen demanded was much more than what Tommy had, but the shopkeepers were more likely to pay off the governors and leave their guardsmen to deal with the likes of Tommy. She had grown weary of that game quickly, and now focused her efforts on easier targets.

“We’re not her for anything but bread, baker.” Tommy pulled out her small pouch and shook it hard until the few coins in it jingled. She had thought the three coins would make a louder sound.

The baker looked over unsure of what Tommy was offering. A small boy came up behind the baker, and the baker pulled him over to his side, shifting his body to the side so the boy appeared to disappear beneath his apron. The boy stuck his head out and shifted his head to look from Sam to the Tommy and the other Littlelings and back. The baker tried to push him further back and planted his stick in front of him as if to guard the boy.

“We have some day old loaves in the back,” the baker said, using his stick to indicate the room around the oven. “Two coppers a piece, money first, then bread.”

Tommy opened her pouch and counted three copper pieces. She knew he was charging too much for the day old bread. She also knew that the day old bread was probably older than that. It seemed that every shopkeeper in town was on the look out to cheat the orphans who ran through it. This was especially true in the Builders District, where there seemed to be more children than anything else running about.

“I’ll give you three coppers for a fresh loaf, a big complete one, mind you. Not a husk. And I want it hot.” Tommy flung one copper piece at the baker. The coin tumbled on the floor and the small boy scurried out to collect it. The baker and the boy had not seen how close Sam had come as he had worked along the wall with the knife. When the boy ran out for the coin, Sam threw himself toward the coin. The boy did not see Sam until it was too late. Sam held out his knife and fell on the boy and the coin. The baker screamed. Sam held the knife high in the air over the boy. The boy’s hand had closed over the coin with Sam’s barefoot stepping over the boy’s hand. Sam stared at the boy with an amused look, the knife inches away from the boy’s neck, which leaned over toward the coin.

“Bread first,” Tommy said. She had not moved during Sam’s display. The Littlelings teetered behind her. “As I said, one hot loaf for three coppers, and your boy walks away fine. That is, unless he wants to come with us.” The boy understood the danger he was in and he did not move or whimper. Stronger than most of the well-fed boys she had seen around.

The baker looked from Tommy to his boy and to Sam. Beads of sweet formed on his forehead and Tommy watched to see if any of the sweat would drip down his large face. The baker swallowed hard and nodded his head as if he had made a decision. “Let my boy go and you have a deal.”

Many of deals had been lost this way in Tommy’s experience. All it took was for a governors’ guardsman to have a hankering for fresh bread, and they would leave with nothing, not even their coins, and perhaps worse. She weighed the outcomes and decided to risk it. “Bring out the bread first. I’ll then trade the other two coins for the bread. When we have our bread, Sam comes with us and your boy has the third coin. If he wants to follow us after that, it’s the boy’s choice.”

Tommy understood that fair dealings were the only way she could survive in Varis. While none of the shopkeepers treated her fairly, she did not take much for nothing. It was not that she did not steal, she did steal, and her Littlelings stole often. It was more that she stole only what she needed, and she did it in the least harmful way she could. In her dealings with goods or coins, however, she was careful to make sure that what she bought was at a bargain price, and, at the same time, fair for everyone. She weighed the situation and decided this was one of those times and was glad for it.

The baker’s breathe had quickened and his hand squeezed and loosened against the staff. “Damn orphans. You’re ruining the district, you know. You’re threatening our livelihood and destroying the good children around here. I ought to beat you over just to make an example of the lot of you. Threatening my son. How dare you! And now you want to take my hard earned bread along with it.”

Sam flicked the wrist holding the knife and neatly cut a piece of the boy’s hair from his head. The boy screamed. “What say we take the boy with us and forget the bread, Tommy.”

“We have enough mouths to feed,” Tommy said. “I think the baker’s going to get our bread and we’re going to be about our way. He knows his interests here, and whether that’s his son or his cousin’s son, he don’t want to be cleaning the floor of his blood after we leave.” Tommy looked up and pulled two of her daggers. At her signal, the rest of the Littlelings wielded their own daggers, some twirling them across their fingers, other simply holding them. All held them as if they knew what to do with the knives. “Isn’t that right, baker?”

The baker’s face had turned redder with anger. Tommy knew she would not be able to return to this baker any time soon. She mentally crossed it off her list of places to trade at. She had expected this to be an easier stop, a quick treat for the Littlelings before she hit up the regulars along the streets. Life was very unexpected in Varis for the orphans, and today seemed to be no different.

Tommy saw a woman peak out from behind the wall that blocked half of the back room with the stove. She had not seen her before now, and figured she must have been hiding the whole time of the encounter. When she saw the woman’s face, she knew that the boy was the woman’s, and the man was probably not close blood. Tommy realized she might have misjudged the situation. With so many orphans running throughout town, children that were not blood were easy to toss out and sacrifice. Tommy willed the woman to intercede before the baker forced Tommy’s hand. She had not come in here to kill, but she seemed to be heading in that direction, which would mean her and these Littlelings would have lay low for a few months until this blew over, not something she wanted to do during the rainy season when money was hard to come by.

The woman seemed to hear Tommy’s pleas and stepped forward holding a loaf of bread. “Donald, let them have this loaf. It’s still warm and I was going to bring it home as part of my day’s pay. Let the orphans have the bread and I’ll get the boy. It’s my bread, you’re not losing anything.”

Donald the baker’s knuckles that held the stick were white. The veins in his forehead seemed ready to explode, and Tommy was afraid that he would not take the woman’s offer. Sam was giggling and making stabbing motions with his knife, although he kept the knife far enough away from the boy. With each motion, the woman’s whimpers grew.

“Stop crying, woman. They’re scum. If we feed the scum, they’ll just come back for more.”

“But it’s my bread,” the woman wailed. “And they’re even willing to pay for it!”

Tommy walked slowly toward the baker, giving Sam and the boy a large berth. She placed the two copper coins on a wooden table against the wall opposite of Donald. The woman approached Tommy, and when she was within reach, she held out the loaf of bread. Tommy reached out and grabbed the bread loaf and walked it back to the Littlelings. She put away her daggers, and the Littlelings did the same. Sam still crouched over the boy, his knife still held out.

The woman covered her eyes with her hands. “You have your bread, now leave my boy and us alone,” she said.

The baker edged closer to Sam and the boy. The stick was now held out in front of him. Tommy handed the bread to one of the Littlelings next to her, wanting her hands free in case the baker made a move. Sam jumped off the boy when the baker was almost close enough to grab him. He swept the air in front of him with his knife, and the baker backed off. Sam started laughing and bent over in his amusement. Tommy and the Littlelings joined in. The woman ran over to the boy, and the baker took another step toward Sam, holding out his stick.

“We go, Sam,” Tommy said and walked backwards toward the door. Sam was still laughing when the baker lunged at him. Tommy lifted her dagger and pulled it behind her head, readying to throw it. Sam danced backwards out of reach of the baker and continued to laugh. The baker reached again for him and Sam ran back to Tommy.

“Can I cut him, just a little, Tommy?” Sam asked. Tommy wanted him to cut the baker. The baker had lost nothing in this stand off, but still he wanted something in return. She could not understand people like him, people who had everything, a good job, food, shelter, and still wanted to feel better about himself but depriving others of the little something that they had earned—regardless of how they earned it.

“I’d like to, Sam, but the bread is getting cold, and we have a bunch of visits to make today. Say your goodbyes and let’s get.”

Sam gave off an exaggerated sigh and bowed mockingly in the baker’s direction. “A wonderful day to you, baker sir. And to you, boy, if ever you grow tired of your mother’s,”—at the m-word, Tommy and all the Littlelings cleared their throats in a high pitch guttural sound and spit on the floor around them—“bosom, look up the Littlelings, and we’ll teach you to be a real man.”

One of the Littlelings opened the door, and the all poured outside. Tommy left last, watching the baker until the door closed behind her. Tommy and the Littlelings made their way through the mud streets, the loaf of warm bread protected from the rain under one of the Littlelings cloaks.

Word count: 2,409

Words remaining: 23,694

Feeling: A very late start, but at least today I did more showing instead of telling.