“Thief!” cried the merchant. 

Feet slapped against the dock floor, a rhythmic dull clapping against wooden boards. Tylan felt a laugh squirm out of his throat, as he threw a glance over his shoulder. Oh, how he wished to see the robed merchant give chase with his silk slippers and burdensome turban, if only for the comedy. He spent his days behind his lavish stall of carpets and ceramics, selling curious trinkets from a land seas away. His slippers would find little purchase against the slippery docks of the harbour, or the stone steps in the narrow alleys that had been polished by centuries of passing feet. Tylan slowed his sprint, coming to a jog. What did Tylan have to fear of a stout moneyed man, whose only power lay in the goods he so jealously guarded? Especially when Tylan's pockets were empty with air, and the entire fiasco was but a misunderstanding he could not care to correct.

“[i]Tylan![/i]” At the sound of his name, Tylan spun around, coming to a halt. A wooden doll clutched to her chest, a little girl stood, with lank blonde hair, and eyes as blue and wide as the sky. His lips slanted in a smirk, and he strode towards her, gliding through the torrential crowd to stand before her behind an abandoned stall, partially-concealed from passing eyes.

[color=82ca9d]“You are far from the harbour, little one,”[/color] Tylan said, squatting in the dirt and reaching up to muss her hair. His smirk widened at her giggle. [color=82ca9d]“Will you become a princess of the land now, and leave the salty air behind you for fresh meadows and dewy grass?”[/color]

“[i]No![/i]” She said it as though it were blatantly obvious, and Tylan was a fool for asking. “And the harbour is right there.” A skinny arm pointed out to the glittering seas, a conversation’s walk away, where tall ships were stopped and rested to unload their goods into the market Tylan danced through every day. Her doll dangled from her grimy hand, and Tylan noticed keenly that both toy and girl shared knobby, bony wrists. Why, that would not do. 

He could hear over the loud murmur of the market the merchant’s voice, screaming in a high stringy voice. [color=82ca9d]“So it is! Thank you for the reminder, little one,”[/color] Tylan said, leaning in to peck the girl’s cheek. She giggled again. 

Springing to his feet, Tylan spread his arms. The merchant’s head snapped towards him, eyes latching greedily onto his thief. [color=82ca9d]“You called, good man!”[/color] he exclaimed, as traders and buyers turned towards him curiously. He gave a little bow. [color=82ca9d]“And I appear.”[/color]

The merchant had only just uttered a plea for aid from strangers and fellow vendors, when Tylan turned heel and skipped lightly away, weaving past two stalls before he stopped at a fruit-stand to inspect the last remaining apples. He plucked one from the stand and put it beneath his nose. [color=82ca9d]“It has a fine scent,”[/color] he said conversationally to the bewildered monger, visibly torn between the swearing merchant and the politely-interested youth. [color=82ca9d]“How much for one?”[/color]

The merchant was getting closer, pushing past the swarming crowd with the recklessness of a bull. “Um…”

[color=82ca9d]“Surely one apple couldn’t [i]possibly[/i] trade for a cod?”[/color]

“Uh – ”

“Stop him! I say, somebody, grab him!”

[color=82ca9d]“It wouldn’t fetch a high price, believe me, you. Not even a cob of corn. You would make a loss, like as not. The people in the markets here, they are selective with their purchases, and dwindled apples do not appeal,”[/color] Tylan said with the unperturbed air of confiding a salacious secret to the monger.

“I – that is – ” 

[color=82ca9d]“Allow me to assist you with your dilemma,”[/color] he added cheerfully, with the merchant descending upon him. Without warning or grunt, he heaved the fruit-stand, upending it with a mighty crash. Wood splintered and broke; the fruit-monger gave an outcry, and women began to scream. A dozen apples bounced and rolled in all directions. People bent to pick them up; children of the streets came rushing forward to lay claim over them. Tylan lingered just long enough to glimpse one blushing apple bump to a stop against the little girl’s feet, to see her bend down and raise it to her hollowed cheeks with reverent wonder, before he was off again, galloping to race the winds, leaving the chaos and the merchant behind him. 

The stone beneath his feet gave way to wood, and Tylan left the market to dash down the docks and sprint up a plank. His last step was a flying leap, and he landed lightly on the deck of the small trading ship. “Tylan Hallaw,” the captain said turning, by way of greeting. 

[color=82ca9d]“Captain Davos,”[/color] Tylan replied, his breaths coming quickly. 

Captain Davos squinted at Tylan’s ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. “You have been in trouble again, by the grace of Wyrim.” 

[color=82ca9d]“Me?”[/color] Tylan was doubled over now, hands braced on his knees as he caught his breath in the salty air. The adrenalin had his blood pounding still; thrill tasted like copper in his mouth. [color=82ca9d]“Never, Davos.”[/color]

The captain regarded him suspiciously, but turned to a passing member of his crew. He firmly pressed the heel of bread he had been holding into the man’s skeletal hands. “Eat, Jon. The ship needs your strength.” The captain clapped his man on the shoulder, as Jon’s hands closed gratefully around his lunch. “Have you seen Maria, Tylan?” Davos asked, turning back to the tousled-haired youth. “The girl’s gone off gallivanting on the streets again. Could have gotten married off to some street-boy by now, and I would never know.” Gruffly, the captain snorted, but beneath the grizzled beard was the hint of a jesting, if worried, smile. “If you see her in the marketplace, tell her to come home. The girl’s not eating enough, and our provisions aren’t lasting. We heap plates of food under her nose yet Maria grows thinner by the day. She hasn’t the energy for daily forages into the town.”

[i]She learnt from her father well the art of giving[/i], Tylan thought, but held his tongue. He could imagine just how many of the crew went to bed with not a growl in their bellies, while thanking the gods for the generosity of their captain and his daughter. 

[color=82ca9d]“You should not worry as much as you do. Maria is clever enow.”[/color] Tylan held Davos’ eyes, staring in a way that broached no argument into the depths of sky-blue eyes. [color=82ca9d]“Methinks she and that doll of hers would have found a snack in the marketplace by now; what merchant could hope to resist spoiling such a treasure?”[/color]