The Thorn of Dentonhill by Marshall Ryan Maresca

behind, one arm wrapped congenially around Wylon. “That’s a funny thing to say, you know. Honest how?”
    â€œIt’s not breaking the law,” Wylon said.
    â€œWho is breaking the law?” Colin said, giving Wylon a smile like a fox. “What laws are we breaking?”
    â€œFour pieces of trash, standing on the corner, all of you armed . . .”
    â€œAs is our legal right,” Colin said. “We provide little services around the neighborhood, and people pay us as they see fit.”
    â€œSwindle and scare people—”
    â€œProtect the people, friend.”
    â€œYou’re just common crooks!”
    â€œBetter than a common tanner!” Hetzer shouted, and the others laughed.
    Wylon ignored them and moved closer to Jutie, his eyes imploring. “It’s not safe out here, Juteron.”
    â€œNot safe?” Jutie asked. He was boiling with rage, but all that came out of his mouth was laughter. “Wylon, how many accidents you see on the kill floor, eh?” Wylon’s gaze dropped to the ground, he said nothing. “At least out here, I’ve got a fighting chance, hmm? I’ve got people at my back.” He held up his tattooed arm into Wylon’s face.
    â€œJutie’s got plenty of brothers, friend,” Hetzer said.
    Wylon stepped back from the corner, still not looking up from the ground. With a nod, he finally said, “The family would still love to see you, Juteron. Anytime.”
    â€œMaybe we’ll all drop by for supper sometime,” Colin said.
    Wylon glanced up at Colin, and turned away. He quickly mounted his pedalcart and rode off down the street.
    â€œHonest work,” Colin muttered.
    â€œI’ll give him honest work,” Hetzer said. He took a few steps into the street yelling after Wylon. “Spend a couple days on Rose Street, you’ll see some honest work!”
    â€œSettle down, Hetzer,” Colin said.
    Hetzer laughed, jumping in the street, and came back over to Colin. “Hear someone gave it to Fenmere real good last night.”
    â€œSomebody hit him on the docks, that’s what we hear. Big shipment.” Colin growled out the words. Jutie didn’t get why Colin seemed so displeased with the whole thing.
    â€œBlazes!” shouted Hetzer. A shop owner sweeping off his stoop glared over at them, and then turned back into his shop. “That’s brilliant, Colin. That’s what people should be doing. Hitting that bastard where it hurts him!”
    â€œIs that why you’re crowing?” Jutie looked across the street to see who called out to them. It was a group of Knights of Saint Julian, including the trash who was giving him trouble before. These guys looked like they had already been through the thrasher once: bloody heads, black eyes, torn clothes.
    â€œDamned right,” Hetzer yelled back. “You Knights got a problem with that? You do, you shouldn’t be on our corner!”
    â€œWell, our corner just had a pack of Fenmere’s goons looking for his merch!” The Knight captain led them, stepping off the walkway into the street.
    â€œThis becoming a thing in the middle of the day?” Tooser asked.
    â€œBlasted well looks that way,” Colin said. “You Knights better get back on your block, you hear?”
    â€œOur block has Fenmere, Princes. So now
your
block has Knights.”
    Hetzer was now halfway across the street, closest to the group of Knights. “Hey, Jutie,” he called out. “Which one of these was giving you the eye before?”
    Jutie pointed over. “The one with the dark vest to match his eye.”
    Hetzer drew out a knife, pointed it casually at that Knight. “He’s claiming you, friend. Unless you head on home.”
    Tooser and Colin stepped off the corner, and Jutie followed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few more Princes coming out of the flop over the Turnabout. The