The Runaway King by Jennifer A. Nielsen Page B

Devlin.”
    “Fink said this boy was upset when he heard what Devlin did to the priest.”
    The fact that Fink had spoken to these men was not a surprise. I knew he was connected to higher powers somehow, likely as a runner for supplies or to gather information in town. That had always been obvious since the only thing Fink wore that fit him were his shoes. They would have been provided to him by these men to ensure he could carry out their tasks.
    I had to admire him for having already talked to them. Fink worked fast.
    They propped me against a tree, fastened a chain to the rope around my wrists, tethering me to the trunk, then pulled the canvas bag off my head.
    It was a simple thieves’ camp, with tents randomly sprung up wherever they fit between trees, and no visible discrimination in the darkness between cooking, sleeping, and latrine areas. Still, by the look of things, this camp had been here for some time.
    A man crouched down beside me for a better look. He was in his early forties with broad shoulders and a slightly hunched back. His thin hair was cut short and probably used to be redder. Still, his eyes were intelligent and his face was marked with premature lines. He wasn’t likely to have great tolerance for me.
    “Didn’t like that gag?” he asked, untying it.
    “It tasted bad,” I said, still using the Avenian accent. “Are you sure you used a clean cloth?”
    He chuckled, then slapped me. Not too hard, though, and I appreciated that. “That’s for being mouthy. I’m Erick Loman. I’m in charge around here. What’s your name?”
    I hesitated, then with a loud huff said, “Sage.”
    “That’s it?”
    “You think someone like me is gonna have more than one name?”
    Erick smiled. “I’m surprised anyone even bothered to give you a name at all.”
    My expression mirrored his. “They didn’t. I gave myself this name.”
    And that was the end of the smiling. With introductions out of the way, Erick got down to the business of having abducted me.
    “Why were you asking Fink about the priest?”
    “I have some sins to confess,” I said. “For ruining the life of the last man to kidnap me.”
    His second slap was less kind. “Fink said you’re trying to find Devlin.”
    “I’m trying to find the pirates. I have a job and need their help.”
    “I’ve worked with them for years, boy. Pirates don’t help anyone but themselves.”
    “This job will help them plenty.”
    He frowned, then refastened the gag around my mouth. “Spit this out again and I’ll carve out your tongue. Got it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before the canvas bag went back over my head.
    They left me that way and soon everything went quiet. Once I was certain they were asleep, I undid the knots that tied my hands, then removed the gag and the canvas bag. After untying the rope around my feet, I lay down to sleep as well, using the bag as a thin layer of padding between my head and my arm.
    I awoke with a boot to my ribs, which was better than I’d expected. When I opened my eyes, Erick towered over me, his arms folded. Fink stood in the shadows behind him. He had a dark bruise on his forehead from where I’d kicked him. A better person might’ve regretted kicking a kid. I didn’t.
    “You’ve got a rat behind you,” I muttered to Erick.
    Fink shook his head. “No, my pet’s in her cage.”
    “I wasn’t talking about your pet.”
    “Call me whatever names you want,” Fink said. “They said as long as I watch out for you, I can stay too.”
    If he expected a congratulations from me, he was going to be disappointed. This was no place for someone his age. Nor mine, I supposed.
    “Why didn’t you run?” Erick asked. “It appears our knots were no good for you.”
    “Undoing all those knots made me tired. Besides, you and I have business to discuss.” I eyed Fink. “Without him.”
    “If it wasn’t for me, they would have killed you already,” Fink said.
    “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t