Gord slipped into the wake of a group of tallfellows a half-score strong. The halflings were intent on some business and didn’t notice Gord at all. In turn, others around might easily mistake him for one of their number. Thus camouflaged, Gord worked his way along with the group, past the cheap goods to where the valuable merchandise was offered. As the party of small folk passed close to a booth offering silver jewelry, Gord could restrain himself no longer. The opportunity was there, and he acted partly out of instinct and partly out of desperation. A dart of the hand, and a beautifully wrought piece of armware was missing from the counter and safely within Gord’s blouse. It was easy! No hue and cry went up, so Gord continued to pace the tallfellows until they reached a place where a side alley wandered away from the market square. Just as they passed this place of safety, Gord spun left and made his dash.

He ran squarely into the arms of a large, mail-clad Officer of the Watch.

Chapter 2

Justice was swift, punishment sure to follow. The bailiff stared down at the small figure held firmly before him by a brawny man-at-arms. The dirty, narrow face showed a mixture of fear and defiance. However, the body’s posture was one of hopelessness. The bailiff could tell that the scrawny little guttersnipe knew he was guilty.

“Gord, dweller in the Slum Quarter of the Old City, I find you guilty of grand theft. You are fortunate indeed that the goods were recovered, for otherwise you would suffer flogging and then the axe… or worse. Lucky too, thief, that this is your first time caught, else I’d see your hand forfeit. Low justice prescribes your fate: I sentence you to three years in the workhouse in penal servitude,” the bailiff concluded, pointing his ceremonial mace at Gord. “Take the scum away!”

Shaking his head in disgusted bewilderment over how such creatures could be allowed to survive for a dozen years, the bailiff prepared himself for the next case.



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