The Thief by Stephanie Landsem Page A

was more like a half-bloomed lily, with hardly a curve to show that she was a woman instead of a scrawny boy. Her face—even under all that dirt—was delicate, with high, sharp cheekbones and a firm, pointed chin. Her full lips trembled as she bent over her brother.
    Stop looking at her. She’s trouble, and so is her irritable brother.
    Longinus leaned back on his heels. “What does ‘am-ha-arez’ mean?”
    She caught her lip between her teeth.
    “Tell me.”
    Nissa smoothed her hand over Cedron’s brow. “It means one of the Chosen People who doesn’t know the law. Who does not say the Shema morning and evening. Mostly—to the priests—one who does not tithe.” Her mouth twisted. “But Cedron does all those things. It is our parents who ignore the law.”
    Their parents . . . who had disowned their son. “And what does it mean to be called that? What will happen to your brother?”
    She blinked several times, and her voice shook. “It means he’s unclean. He can’t go into the temple. No Jews will hire him.”
    “No better than a Gentile, then?”
    She chewed on her lip. “Worse.”
    He needed to go now. Back to his men and his post. It was time to let these two unfortunates fend for themselves. But how would this girl get her brother anywhere? By the swelling in his knee, Longinus guessed Cedron wasn’t going to be walking on his own for days, maybe weeks. He stood and sheathed his sword. Not my problem.
    Cedron groaned again and began to cough.
    Longinus pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t leave them on the street. By Jupiter, what am I doing?
    He pulled Cedron up to sitting. “Get my horse.”
    “Me?” Nissa jerked and looked at the big animal calmly waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
    “He won’t bite you.” Ferox was as meek as a calf until he was in battle. “Just lead him over here. To the bottom step.”
    “No. Just leave us. Cedron wouldn’t want me to—”
    “What are you going to do?” he almost shouted. By the gods, she was stubborn. “You can’t get him home. He can’t even walk. Will you carry him on your own back?”
    “I’m stronger than I look.”
    Cedron groaned.
    “Listen. He’s hurt.”
    “But—”
    “Don’t be an idiot. It won’t do your brother any good.” Longinus stared at her like she was a new recruit refusing orders. “Get the horse. Now.”
    The girl clamped her mouth shut and stomped to Ferox.
    Longinus slid his hand under Cedron’s shoulders and lifted. The clop of Ferox’s hooves sounded against the stones. As skinny as Cedron looked, he was still a full-grown man and heavy. “Closer. To the steps,” he grunted.
    Nissa’s mouth pinched, but she moved Ferox closer and Longinus hoisted the barely conscious man onto the horse’s back.
    Cedron slumped forward.
    Longinus steadied him with a hand. He spoke over his shoulder to Nissa. “Up you go. You’ll need to hold him up. It’s a long fall, and he’s had enough bruises for today.”
    Her eyes widened and lips parted. He’d seen that look enough on new recruits. She was afraid. Of course she was. For all her bluster, she was still just a woman. “Come on; it’s easy.” He patted one of the four corners of the saddle that rose up like horns and made a square seat.
    She stretched on tiptoe but was too short to even reach a pommel.
    “Put your foot here.” He made a cup with one hand.
    Nissa looked at him with a frown between her brows, lifted her bare foot, and put it into his hand. It was tiny, hardly bigger than a child’s and twice as dirty. He put his other hand on her waist to steady her. “Now, up.”
    She scrambled and pulled her way into the saddle behind Cedron. Her tunic hiked up past her knees to reveal delicate ankles and firm brown calves. She let out a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her brother.
    Longinus admired her courage—as well as bits of the rest of her. He dropped his gaze and gathered Ferox’s reins. No more women.