 Rat the Thief, vol 2, Book 3 |
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ithin minutes Rat had pocketed as much as she could, and she made a cursory last sweep of the room. She wanted to take a book or two, because Aunt Milly could read, but they all appeared to be stocklists, and hand-written financial records. Rat didn't feel the least bit tired, now, and she re-crossed the marble floor as rapidly as stealth would allow. All she needed to do was get out of here, and then she would be safe.
When Rat hit the carpeted hallways once again, she quickened her pace. She had no idea where she was, but if she could just double back to that first dim corridor, with the little panel she'd squeezed through, she'd be able to get back onto the roof, and find her way once again to the alley.
Rat was almost jogging, now, cupping her arms around her tautly-packed jacket so that nothing clattered. She was no longer bothering to give the passageways even quick checks, before she hurtled through them, and when she turned a corner and saw another dark figure immediately in her way, she was far too precipitate to avoid colliding with him, and tumbling wildly to the floor.
Briefly shocked, Rat couldn't tell how much noise she'd made - she had a vague notion that somebody had cried out, but she didn't think it had been her. Orienting herself, she saw that several of her stolen items had sprung free and were just coming to a soft rolling halt at various distances across the carpet. Only one still lay within arm's reach, and she snatched it quickly and re-pocketed it, in an almost unconscious gesture.
The figure she'd hurtled into was still dizzily getting his bearings, and Rat watched him cautiously, thinking that she should be running away while she could, but for some reason she stood rooted in place while he gradually picked himself up. She had the impression that he didn't belong here either. She saw him take into account the stolen items that had escaped across the floor, not all of which were hers. She noticed he had not failed to bring his own satchel, and it appeared well packed. He was another thief
Rat and the stranger had scarcely exchanged glances, when both of them started in alarm at the protracted creak of a door opening nearby, followed, more frightening yet, by the unsteady yellow glow of a lamp approaching around a near bend. Without a word, both of them sprang into a full run down the hallway.
Almost immediately, they reached the room Rat had entered from, and she indicated that the stranger should follow her through the window, not considering that it might be too tight a fit for him. Fortunately it wasn't, and soon both of them were up on the roof, flustered, and shaky, and skidding all over the icy shingles, but still making their way steadily across, and downwards. At last they both stood on the alley side of the neglected manor wall, panting hard with fear and exhilaration.
The sky had begun to lighten, by now, its edges just beginning to warm against the skyline. Rat's breathing slowed. She stood up, and regarded the stranger with whom she'd collided.
He was a boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, a little older than herself. Taller, but slight of frame. She'd thought he was a thief, but now she doubted her first impression judging by his fine clothing. He wore a trim, fitted wool jacket over a crisp silk vest, both in dark shades of rich blue. His shoes looked soft and well made, and almost new. He had a belt, however, very much like Rat's own, broad with compartments and pouches and places to hide things, the leather worn with use. And then there was the satchel, suspiciously bulging.
Rat was twitching, nervous, eager to get out of this alley and out of this part of town as fast as possible. But she stood her ground, and met the gaze of the strange boy, who was now measuring up her own ragged appearance in return. It occurred to Rat, suddenly, that she owed him an apology.
"I'm sorry that I, er, ran into you. In there." The boy shrugged. Something about his mannerisms suggested arrogance, but she couldn't pinpoint what. He responded pleasantly enough, though,
"That's alright, I had what I needed." And after a pause, "My name is Milton."
Rat nodded in acknowledgement. "My name is Rat."
Abruptly there was a muffled shout from somewhere deep in the manor, followed by a second, higher in pitch. Their handiwork had been discovered. Rat and Milton spared only a moment to trade conspiratorial grins, before they both fled noiselessly in opposite directions.