The Littlelings dragged Tommy away after the fight, away from Audrel and her fists and knees, fists and knees that she had somehow replaced with large rocks when Tommy was not looking. Tommy prayed for the Littlelings to drag her away from the pain, but each step she took, guided by the Littlelings, was an agony; her head felt like it was filled with lead, which sounded like a gong went off with each movement; her limbs, which she had always thought as taut thick bands, immediately obeying her commands for violence, now felt like her bones were connected by weak grass, which threatened to break with each movement.

The Littlelings helped Tommy walk from Audrel’s yard and down the dirt-filled streets. Tommy felt the breeze of wagons trotting by her, the wind kicking up sand that dug into her open wounds. She could not see, caked blood sealed her eyes shut, and she felt her cheeks and lips already starting to swell. She concentrated on maintaining consciousness. Tommy knew she was a large woman, and she knew that if she were to fall unconscious before the Littlelings could get her back to the barn, she would lay where she fell until she died and the city’s undertakers carted her off. She concentrated on each step, willing her feet forward, feeling each foot drag against the dirt. She put as much weight on her the Littlelings shoulders as her own arms could support.

Tommy had underestimated Audrel before the fight. She had faced down many barmaids in her time, and while she regretted pushing Shel, he owed her. Petra Jacobsen had made another threat to have her and the Littlelings forcibly removed from the barn. While she could not go after Petra—he was too well connected with the governors—she could go after his apprentice. Tommy had hoped Shel would have some influence with the farmer. It was too early in the season to move the Littlelings. The harvest was almost upon them, and every spare space of building would be prepared to hold the bounties. Tommy had no choice but to confront Shel. What she had not expected, however, was Audrel.

After seeing Audrel’s speed against the Littlelings, Tommy should have known better than to push the fight. She had never seen a single person take down that many Littlelings at once with so few injuries. But then she probably did know better. After Audrel had finished with the Littlelings and called down Tommy, Audrel gave her a chance to run. Audrel did not understand. For all of Audrel’s words, Tommy did not have a choice, all she could do was attack Audrel and see it through. In the Builders District, there was the strong and the prey, and it was too easy to move from one category to the other. Tommy could not support herself and the Littlelings if she was not the strong. She had taught the Littlelings when to fight and when to run. It was easy to run when facing the governors’ guardsmen, with their superior weapons, numbers, and training. The Littlelings courage meant little against such armed foes. But not to face down a woman armed only with a broomstick, the thought of it was incredible.

The dirt underfoot changed to cobblestone and Tommy knew the Littlelings were crossing near the walls of Varis. She felt more hands and shoulders under her, and heard the worried voices of other Littlelings. Tommy wished she could say a few words, put their minds at ease and joke with them about the fight. She could not. She concentrated on dragging her foot forward. The Littlelings were doing most of the movement, and Tommy felt the pulls of unconsciousness. She was still a ways away from the barn, and she gritted her teeth, teeth, which she realized after prodding with her tongue, were now missing a few of their numbers. The reassuring voices of the Littlelings kept her moving. For all of their youthful energy, they were a maturity to those children who joined the Littlelings. The numbers were culled with those who did not stand together as a gang, and what was left was a group who was willing to die for one another, who understood what life on the streets of Varis meant, and knew that the only chance they had to fill their bellies was to stay together.

Tommy had never seen anyone move as fast as Audrel. She could not imagine how she could be more dangerous even if armed with a weapon. Where had a barmaid learned such martial skills? And why, if she had those skills, was she serving patrons in the Builders District instead of working for the governor or the Empress. Tommy could not imagine having those fighting skills. She considered herself a fine warrior. The street was a harsh teacher, but she had learned over the years to hold her own in most fights. She was bigger than most of the children and adults in the district. But more than her size, Tommy knew she was very quick. Even amongst the Littlelings, whose small size allowed them to move much quicker than most of the adults, Tommy was considered not only the strongest, but the quickest. She had met better fighters, but had never met someone who moved as fast as she did, or seen as much of the fight as she had. To learn how to use her speed as Audrel used her speed, such thoughts, Tommy could not imagine being that dangerous. She would not have to run from anyone in the city, not even the governors guards could stand against her and feeding the Littlelings.

The Littlelings led Tommy over the well-rutted roads leaving town. The road smoothed out when the turned onto the Eastering Road. Tommy knew she was getting close. Her breathing was getting difficult. Her nose must have been broken in the fight, since it was clogged up. She was having trouble keeping her head up, and her chin kept smacking against her chest, making breathing through her mouth difficult. It was difficult to hear much other than her blood pumping through her face and ears, and the throbbing in her limbs, but she listened and was able to hear the Littlelings singing a song about the Forgotten Forest where the orphans escaped hunger.

Tommy’s pace slowed as she walked further down the road. Unconsciousness teased her as a warm blanket does on a cold day, but she continued to resist. She felt new arms and shoulders, and heard screaming. It was with a huge relief that she felt the wooden floor of the barn underfoot. She tried to breath in the barn’s air, but could not force any air up through her nose. She remembered the smells of roasting dinner and hay and sweaty children that she always identified with whatever place the Littlelings managed to stay. She felt herself lowered slowly onto a bed of hay. With her head touched the ground, she used her last thrust of energy to roll onto her side to better breathe, before collapsing into a deadening sleep.

Tommy’s recovery took many weeks. She had been injured before during brawls, but never as bad or as completely as her fight with Audrel. The Littlelings took care of Tommy, providing her food and water, and helping her to wash and apply salve to her wounds. Tommy had never paid much attention to the Littlelings who did not go out on patrol or work Varis. There were never more than ten such Littlelings, and they spent their time inside the barn or wherever dwelling the Littlelings found themselves in. They were the ones who cooked for the Littlelings and mended their clothing. Tommy did not seek out these children, but they always seemed to make their way to the Littlelings, and while Tommy did not bring them to the barn or introduce them to the Littlelings, other Littlelings, who must have seen what these children had to offer, did introduce them, and they became accepted, if not appreciated by Tommy, in the Littlelings.

Tommy had always been self-sufficient. She had raised herself on the streets of Varis after escaping from her orphanage. She stole and fought for her food and shelter, and grew up fast before befriending the first of her Littlelings. There had been times when Tommy was injured or weak after a particularly bad time, but that had never lasted long, and she never had to rely on others to see her through her injuries.

She now relied on the Littlelings for everything. It took three days before Tommy recovered her eyesight, and more than a week before she could walk unassisted around the barn. The Littlelings continued to work Varis without her, bringing in enough coins and food to keep the Littlelings alive. Tommy was not used to needing assistance for even her most basic tasks, but she learned to accept it from the Littlelings who mothered her back to health.

But for all her recovery, Tommy’s thought never strayed far from Audrel. Tommy did not hate Audrel, she did not think it was possible to hate someone with that much discipline and talent. Tommy respected Audrel and craved her learning, her ability with staff and fist. She continuously replayed the fight in her mind, not watching to figure out what she could have done better—she knew she did not have the skill to stand up to Audrel. Instead, she replayed the fight to study each of Audrel’s move, to try and learn anything from the beating that she could use to improve herself and help the Littlelings. Tommy spent many hours of each day replaying the fights in her mind. She realized early that for all of her skills, Audrel was terribly out of shape. She remembered Audrel’s breathing during the fight, and how what should have been smooth movements for Audrel, looked awkward and forced. Tommy was afraid to imagine what Audrel might have looked like at her prime. Audrel was too large for her frame, and she had probably been thinner when she trained.

The Littlelings reported back on their dealings in Varis. Word had gotten around about Tommy’s beating, and the other Littlelings had to resort to more and more violence to get the same amount of coins. It was the good season for Tommy to recover, though. The early harvest had begun, and there were plenty of goods to be swiped from merchants who were too slow or unwatchful. Tommy had trained the Littlelings well in this aspect, and they brought enough goods to the barn to cover any lightening of the coins.

What most concerned Tommy were the Littlelings dealings with Petra Jacobsen, the owner of the barn. Before the fight, when Tommy had been dealing with him, he had become less concerned with the highwaymen, and more concerned that the Littlelings would take part of his crop come harvest time. Tommy had tried to assure him that the Littlelings would not steal from him, that they would continue their protection of his barn and fields, and continue their patrol of the Eastering road. In the three weeks Tommy had been forced to remain in the barn, Petra had become impatient with the Littlelings. He had demanded they leave the barn and threatened to call on the governors to help them leave. With the harvest almost upon them, Tommy knew it was a bad time of the season to be looking for shelter. While the rains had stopped, the Littlelings like to use this seasonal bounty as a way to prepare themselves for the colder months ahead.

On the third week of her recovery, Tommy decided it was time for her to approach Petra and renegotiate the use of the barn. She took with her three of her oldest Littlelings. Most of the swelling had gone down, but she knew she still looked bloodied, and Tommy was sure the farmer had heard about what happened in Varis. For all its size, Varis was a remarkably small town. Once again she worried about the strong becoming the prey.

Petra Jacobsen’s farmhouse was a large wooden house made of overlong planks. Multiple layers of dull red paint covered the lower half of the house, ending somewhat abruptly on the second floor, as if the painters did not bother to use ladders and painted only as far up as they could reach standing on their toes. The shingled roof was sharply angled and its peak looked as if it would cut glass. A livery boy stood outside the farm. He was well dressed and looked like he was preparing to go somewhere.

“Is Petra Jacobsen home?” Tommy asked the boy.

The boy ignored Tommy, straightening the lacy sleeves of his shirt and wiping dirt off his polished black boots.

“I said, is Petra Jacobsen home?” Tommy asked again. Tommy had not seen this boy before, which was not strange. Varis was a large place, and Tommy and the Littlelings stuck to the Builders District almost exclusively. Many children avoided that district somewhat because of Littlelings and the dangers, but mostly because the Builders District did not have much to offer children. There were few sweet bakers, and the stores sold only the most basic of items since it was so close to the Central District.

The boy looked up and over Tommy’s head. “My father is in important meetings all day. I doubt he would have time for the likes of you.” The boy’s head moved up and down over Tommy. “You look like you’ve had better days. Maybe if you cleaned up, you may be worth looking at.”

Tommy’s hands clenched in fists, but she held back from striking the boy. The Littlelings’ relationship with the farmer was too delicate to survive a beating of his son. Tommy spoke through gritted teeth. “Please tell you father that Tommy is here to speak with him. He’ll know what it’s about.”

The boy did not look impressed as Tommy mentioned her name. Throughout the Builders District, and even in some of the surrounding districts, just her name would have sent children running. Petra’s son did not seem impressed and finished fixing his cuffs before going inside. Tommy had never seen Petra’s son before. She did not even know he had a son. As far as she knew, he was not married, or at least was no longer married. She decided to check up a bit more on Petra and his family to see if she could use it to her advantage.

Petra appeared at the door a few minutes later. The three Littlelings she had brought with her were off to the side, playing with Petra’s dogs, which wandered throughout their front yard. When the door opened, they left the door to join Tommy at the door.

“Tommy, it’s been too long. What happened to your face? I thought it was your custom to make the other person look like that.” Petra Jacobsen was a tall thin man. He wore black tights and a black tabard, which he belted a sword over. The sword was thin and long, like the ones Tommy heard the warriors trained with in Seanne. While thin, the blades were particularly sharp, especially near its point, and could poke through even the thinnest of chain armor. Against sturdy plate, however, the blades were said not to fare as well.

“Mr. Jacobsen, the Littlelings have been telling me that you’re asking for us to leave the barn. I thought we had an agreement here. We’ve kept the roads clear for the past eight months, and we’ll continue to keep them clear, especially during the harvest season. You know the thieves come out in droves once those wagons start rolling down the road.” Tommy’s strategy was simple: she would appeal to him as a businessman first. If that failed, she would use her other strengths to convince him it was in his best interests that the Littlelings stay in the barn through the season. “We could clear out of the barn after the harvest. You know it’s hard to move the Littlelings quickly. I’ll have to find new dwellings, and you’re not even using that barn.”

“That barn is my barn, Tommy. You have done well in keeping the roads clear, but I need the barn to store some of the harvest. You knew the time would come when I would ask you to clear out, and you even agreed that you would when I needed it. With the harvest coming up, and our crops are looking particularly fine this year, we’re going to need all the space we can find, which includes the use of the old barn. With the weather turning, I’m sure you can find plenty of plains to make camp for your children.”

“The camps aren’t the question, Mr. Jacobsen. We had an agreement until after the harvest.”

“You don’t look like you’re in any condition to fulfill your agreement, Tommy. I hate to bring this up, but your Littlelings looked cowed now. After your beating, I don’t think there’s a highwaymen along the road who fears the might Tommy and her Littlelings.”

“You know that’s not true! There has not been one thief that has stolen from you even since that incident.” Tommy regained her cool and slowed her speech, trying to sound more menacing. “Mr. Jacobsen, listen. I understand you need the barn. With the rains gone, there’s now almost too much space in the barn for all of the Littlelings. You can start storing stuff in the barn, and we’ll stay in the unused parts of the barn. You’ll still have our protection and the use of your barn.”

“You think I’d store my crops in the same barn as hundreds of hungry children? Come now, Tommy, you should know me better than that. You will clear out of the barn, yes?”

“Petra, we’ve been good to you, and we’ve left you and your people alone. I like this arrangement, at least through the end of harvest. Don’t push us. I don’t want to sound threatening, but that’s who I am and that’s who the Littlelings are.” At that, the three Littlelings that accompanied Tommy began screaming and hooting. They banged their stomachs, clapped their hands, and screamed, making as much as noise as they could generate, while keeping their eyes locked on Petra. It was about intimidation, and she had brought her best Littlelings in that department. “Think on it, Petra. We’ll be out at the end of the harvest, and you’ll have our protection up through there.”

With that, Tommy turned her back on the farmer and walked away, not turning back. The Littlelings continued to hoot and scream until Tommy heard the farm’s door slam shut. The Littlelings caught up, talking amongst themselves about their display and about how fearful the farmer looked. Tommy did not like the situation. Something was not right in it. Petra had always been difficult, but he had understood the situation. Tommy and the Littlelings had the upper hand until all the thieves were cleared out or the farmer had a force strong enough to move them. Since there was no such force outside of Varis, she did not understand what he was up to, but he seemed different, more confident. Tommy did not understand why that boy was there and why he was claiming to be Petra’s son. Tommy needed to get back into Varis and find out what was going on. Something had changed in the past three weeks, and Tommy did not like not knowing what it was.

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