Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [oneshot Sandra] Have Mercy Date: Sat, 17 Apr 1993 23:24:16 GMT "When I was just seventeen I ran away from home To be with all the pretty people To be on my own Bright lights and trains and bedsit stains And pavements paved with gold And I believed in everything that everybody told me Have mercy Have mercy on me." - "Legend in My Living Room" on _Diva_ * * * Fuck this, thought Sandra savagely as she flew through the air. She relaxed and curled her body forward just before she hit the wall. She didn't even try to keep back the cry of pain when she hit. Instead, she shook the hilt of her knife into her hand. Her forearm hid the blade from the pig. She heard him laughing as he moved in. She didn't look up until she saw the rags bound to his feet with rawhide thongs. When she did, she threw all her weight forward, launching herself at her focus. She didn't focus on his face. She focused on his chin. She felt something crack when her fist hit the bearded chin, but with all the weight of her body behind it, his chin lifted enough. Her hand moved a precise fraction of a inch and the pig's throat went red. Blood hit her face. The man screamed, gurgled and tackled her with his great weight. Her head hit the cobblestones and the world went dark. * * * Sandra woke screaming from a dream about being buried alive. She couldn't move her arms even after she woke. She felt the coins still clutched in her right hand. The hilt of her knife in her left. Well, most of her left. She couldn't feel two of the fingers. Broken, probably, from the strike to the chin. The weight of the body was still on her. Seemed that the Watch was too busy with other things in the city to have gotten to her, yet. It was dark out. And she was alive, still. She wriggled out from under the dead and closed the pig's eyes with two fingers, half jealous of his stillness, of the peace that was no more pain. Her gut still ached from where the mark had nailed her with a shin. Her left breast felt like it was burning from where the pig had hit her. She was sticky with blood and her head felt a little like she was floating. She opened her hand, the two silvers shone and the three coppers glowed. The coinage and Sandra's smallness had prompted the attack. It was barely enough to feed her for a week. It had only gotten worse since the storm. Pickings were very slim in Low Town; and the small fish were getting eaten. Sandra knelt there, numb, shaking, and hurting. She started crying, great, big, gulping sobs that she tried to choke down for fear of sound. Then she gave up as her body tried to throw up; but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. Eventually, her body slowed its violent reaction. Her mouth tasted of acid and metal from the bile and stale fear. She shook as she stood, but she stood. That was a victory of sorts. She took long, slow, deep breaths, and felt better for it. Even in her fuzzy state she realized that she wasn't going to last the night if she stayed out on the streets. Part of her didn't want to care. The rest of her kept her to the shadows as she walked and dictated a direction. That part of her kept her hidden as the Watch went by on their rounds. A different part laughed bitterly at the Plaza of Glittering Steel. Out in the country Sandra had heard of pavements of silver. The cruel hardness of the steel echoed her laughter sharply. The other part ignored the laughter and urged her across the bridge over the Ceru, and to not look at the deep, dark depths of its waters as they rushed out to the Great Blue. The beauty of the fountains got past even her befuddled bitterness. The walk was deserted this late at night, but even so, she picked a fountain well hidden by the trees that grew above and around it. The water in the filtered moonlight sparkled cleaner and clearer than she'd ever seen it before. She touched the water and it flowed dark beneath her touch. Sandra remembered the blood and her body retched, once. When she wiped her mouth with her hand, there was darkness on that as well. Then she stepped into the fountain, unmindful of her clothing. Under the moonlight a stain spread from her through the clarity of the marble fountain. By the time she realized it, it was too late to do anything about it. The coldness of the water and several long drinks to convince her empty belly that it wasn't empty anymore cleared her head a little. She scrubbed her hair, her face, the worst of the blood out of the clothes, and then her hands, careful of the now swelling hand and fingers. She climbed out and was relieved to see that the stained water in the fountain drained steadily away as more clear water flowed in. As she watched, she turned over an option in her mind that she had never really liked to even think about before. She tried to stretch out her left hand and winced. The bump on the back of her head was a lump almost as big as an egg. There was a small stain on her hand when she was finished exploring the bump. For all she knew, there might be something worse than a bruise to the fire in her chest and gut. They would feed her, fix her up, give her safety as long as she was there. She'd have to put up with their bullshit about getting a job. No woman could get a job that paid as much as thieving (used to pay... part of her said) in this city other than by selling her body. And that wasn't something she'd do as long as she was alive. She'd have to put up with the screamingly boring sewing and spinning, but with her hands scrapped like they were, she might not have to do that. She stood, dripping water, as she thought over the path to the Women's Hostel and a sudden dizzy spell had her kneeling on the ground before she even knew what hit her. When it ended she knew her eyes were leaking slow tears. She'd never make it past the ramesh slavers in this state. It'd be better to die than to get caught by them. Unbidden, the smooth darkness of the Ceru came to her mind. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked back toward the bridge. This time in the middle of the Arcade of Fountains. A Watch man walked by and she just smiled and nodded at him. He looked at her, but kept going. Sandra laughed softly and walked onto the huge expanse of bridge. She'd never seen its beauty before. Not like this. The river moved quickly far, far below her. The false dawn showed her the ripples and streams under the surface of the broad, fast moving current. She carefully climbed up onto the railing, wincing a little at the pain in her gut. She shivered as a breeze blew through her soaked clothing. She grinned at the realization and the thought that now she wouldn't have to worry about catching cold. For a moment, she was simply poised there. A cramp in her gut grabbed her and she knelt, fiercely willing it away. She didn't want it to win. As she knelt there, she carefully stacked the two silvers and three coppers on the bridge railing beside her. Someone else could use them, she thought. I won't need them anymore. When the pain finally loosened its claws on her, she stood, arms at her sides. Sandra, remembering diving lessons she'd once had in a pond on the farm, carefully bent her knees, and then leaped into the air, her arms coming forward. So this is what flying is like... ... and the darkness rushed up to engulf her. ----------- [ADMIN: I hate it when bit players grab my mind. Anyway, this simply *had* to be written. It is standalone. If anyone wants to save this little thief even after this, go for it. Or just let her die in peace. Please don't add Sandra to the directory. I'm not all that sure I want to get into this kinda mindset very often. -li] -- Liralen Li | "Dying is easy, it's living that scares me to death." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Cold" li@Data-IO.com | on _Diva_ by Annie Lennox