The Next Line 5

Dalin, a second-rate pickpocket, wants to apprentice himself to the more experienced Finneas, and has stolen some money from him in an attempt to impress him. Finneas has just discovered the theft.

"There are ten gold royals missing from my coin pouch," Finneas hissed into his ear. "Where are they?"

Dalin could hardly breathe. He tried to gasp out a reply. Finneas's grip eased a little, but the blade nicked Dalin's throat, and blood trickled down his neck. "Your cloak pocket," he managed to say. Finneas removed the blade from Dalin's throat and dragged him to where he'd hung the cloak. "It's your life if they're not," he said roughly, and began to search.

"Other pocket," urged Dalin.

Finneas found and retrieved the missing coins, counted them, and released Dalin abruptly. Dalin fell to the ground. "What sort of game do you think you're playing?" Finneas growled as he replaced the coins in his pouch.

"I wanted to show you what I'd learned," said Dalin, rubbing his throat as he stared up at Finneas. "About being invisible in plain sight."

"When did you steal from me? When you were borrowing the sword oil?" Dalin nodded. "If you thought I'd be impressed, I'm not. I don't want an apprentice, and I have no time for games."

Dalin wondered whether he should point out that while Finneas was choking him, he'd removed Finneas' pants, painted sea otters on his butt cheeks, shaved a stripe of hair from the older man's head, and tied his shoelaces together.

Maybe this wasn't the moment.


Dialogue: Anonymous.....The Next Line: Pacatrue