CAITLIN MOORE - THE OUTER CITY THIEVES OR: WHY THE MIERCEANS INVENTED BARB WIRE

Caitlin Moore is a senior at Tusculum University who lives in the middle of nowhere, East Tennessee. She primarily writes in the -punk genres whenever she's not bombarding her friends with facts about dinosaurs or Regency Era fashion. While she has been writing stories since she was three, this is her first publication.

​The Outer City Thieves
​Or: Why the Mierceans Invented Barb Wire

​She looked up and saw a sky full of rats. Among them were a wooden crate and a gangly man flailing his arms desperately trying to slow his fall. Mary Anne swiftly pushed the blueberry cart she had been leaning against before she heard the window above shatter. It rolled out into the street just as the man landed, giving him a softer, juicier landing. The crate smashed onto the ground while the rats landed on the street, scurrying off in every direction.
            Mary Anne walked over to the groaning man and returned to leaning against the cart. Not a moment later, two angry men and a woman charged out the pub. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the blueberry mess in the middle of the road, then to the jelly covered man just beginning to sit up, before resting on Mary Anne. Their anger dissipated.
            “Miss Arrowood,” the lady sputtered, briefly glancing at the man, “We didn’t know he was with you. I swear we wouldn’t of-”
            Mary Anne gave a quick nod, “It’s no problem. I’m sure whatever Mister Fair here did was well deservin’.” She patted his shoulder.
            Landen groaned again while wiping some of the jelly away from his blue eyes, “I promise you I thought that was their order.”
            She looked back to the group, “What was it you ordered?”
            “Medicine, ma’am,” as the lady took a step forward, her smooth hands fiddled with her patchwork havelock, “There’s this orphanage. We,” she jerked her head towards the two men, “grew up there, you see? Lot o’ the kids there gettin’ sick lately. Tha’ medicine was supposed to help ‘em out.” Mary Anne nodded her head. Any kind of medicine was already expensive for the workers, and recently it'd gone from six-months-wages to sell-your-house-and-children in price. Stealing — or smuggling, as Landen liked to say — was the only way to get any.
Mary Anne stepped between Landen and the group, “Since Fair here botched it all up, I’ll get the medicine for you.”
The lady hurriedly shook her head, her tied, dark brown hair whipping around as she did, “Oh no, Miss Arrowood, we couldn't. We don't have the money.”
“I don’t charge. Though, I will ask you forget anything this fool did.”
“You’d really do that for us?” Mary Anne nodded, holding out her hand, “Miss Arrowood, thank you!” The lady shook her hand, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Meet me back here tomorrow morning, alright?” The lady agreed and her group left. Mary Anne turned around, arms crossed. Landen still had blueberry guts on most of his round face, not to mention the rest of him. “Come on, get up,” she took hold of the loose fabric around his jacket’s shoulder and dragged him off the cart. As he went about wiping his clothes off as best he could, Mary Anne walked over to where the fruit salesman was already gathering supplies to clean up the blueberry catastrophe. “Mister Brown,” she began to pull out her coin purse, “How much for the stock?”
Mister Brown glanced up, his one brown eye squinting at her before returning to his work, “No, Miss Arrowood. The stock was going bad anyway. Consider tha’ thanks for what ya did for my niece last week, yeah?”
Mary Anne put her coin purse away, “That landlord of yours give back your door?” Mister Brown nodded his head, “Alright, you let me know if she tries to do anything like that again.” Mary Anne rubbed her cool beige knuckles as she turned around. She half hoped that landlord upped her prices again, she wouldn’t mind giving her another beating. She walked back to where Landen was still futilely wiping at the stains, grabbed him by the same scrap of fabric, and began dragging him away.
Landen let out a startled, “Hey!” as Mary Anne pushed him into a nearby alley settled between a tannery and the brick house of the poor sod who lived next to it.
“Would you like to explain why after you told me to be here this morning to see your so-called “roarin’ success” of a first job alone, all I get is to see you thrown out a window and a job with no fat cull to nab from?”
“Well,” Landen leaned against the brick wall, “you volunteered for it. Miss.”
Mary Anne glared, “Fair,” she crossed her arms.
“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands, “Those guys asked me to get the medicine for them. I smuggled it-”
“You stole it.”
“No, I smuggled it.”
“Fair, you didn’t smuggle shit.”
“What do you call that then?” he exclaimed, motioning back up the street.
Mary Anne looked to see Mister Brown pushing his cart to the sidewalk, avoiding the shattered glass as several rats chowed down on the blueberry guts spread all about the cobble street, then looked back to Landen “A disaster.”
Landen rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with them, “They overreacted.”
“Uh-huh. Why don't you start over?”
He sighed, “They’d asked me to get them that medicine. So I did, right from the docks, too,” Landen looked away, “And since I had so much extra time…” Mary Anne crossed her arms and waited, not-so-patiently, “I… went to the pub and maybe got a little drunk?”
“How’d you get enough money to get drunk?”
“You ain’t mad?” Landen looked up at her with large, hopeful eyes.
She shook her head, “I’m furious but that can wait. Where’d you get the money?”
“Some guy,” Landen shrugged, “Didn’t get his name, didn’t care. He was payin’,” he scrunched his brow, “Didn’t get that good a look at him either. Big frock coat, knit cap. That’s all I remember. Anyway, this guy bought me a drink, asked my name, what was in the crate — don’t look like that, I didn’t tell him — and bought me a few more drinks. Then we said our goodbyes and I went off to my room.”
“You accepted drinks from a person you didn’t even get a good look at?”
“Yeah?”
“You could have died!”
“Well, yeah. But free drinks.”
Mary Anne closed her eyes and muttered, “I am going to find you face down in the Albion one day, I swear,” before she scowled at him, “We are going to continue this after we get that medicine back,” she began pacing, “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that a stranger would buy you drinks for no reason?”
Landen relaxed as he figured his chances of being chastised lessened, “I wouldn’t say it was no reason. I am quite handsome.”
“Fair, you’ve never wanted to knock anyone-”
“He doesn't know that.”
“This man was spending lots of money on you and not expecting anything in return,” Mary Anne stopped pacing, “No one from Tantivy District has the money to do that.” Tantivy may have been slightly better off than the South End, but one look at the dilapidated brick houses around them proved that no one around here would pay for another’s drinks out of goodwill. She doubted any of the fat culls from the inner city would trust anyone from Tantivy enough to pay them to get the crate. Just meant that this mysterious man was from the inner city himself. Mary Anne ground her teeth, “Where was that medicine meant for?”
“The University of Surgeons. Dockhand I know said they’ve been stockpiling it like crazy lately.”
Mary Anne nodded, “We’ll get some more from there then. Nothing else happened last night?”
“Nope!” Landen smirked, “Well, the customers did ask if I was me first. I’m going to be higher requested than you soon! The most famous Estenn in the city!”
“Not if you don't use what I taught you, you won't,” she leaned away from him, “So you chose an orphanage for your first job?”
He shrugged, “Not every kid can get taken in by the city’s best thief.”
“Try to remember that before getting drunk on the job again,” Mary Anne walked out of the alley, Landen quickly pushing up from the wall to follow, “We need to get ready for tonight.”
●
The White Mastodon laid outside the walls of the inner city, past Tantivy and into the South End along the murky waters of the Albion. It was a small, two-story building painted a green that had faded to a grassy color and was known to the people of the South End as the greatest pub in all of the Miercean Empire. Mary Anne and Landen passed the still boarded up window from the last time a mastodon had passed through the South End a few months back as they entered.
It was late morning, and the only person in was the owner. Clara looked up from where her rough, deep brown hands were scrubbing the table clean to the opening door. She grinned, “Ah, Miss Arrowood,” she glanced at Landen as he came in behind Mary Anne, “I take it this isn’t a… social… visit, yeah?”
Mary Anne smiled, “No, not this time. After this job, however-”
Landen gagged, “No, no, no, no, no. I do not need that in my head.”
“Y’know, Mister Fair,” Clara smirked, “Last night me and your caretaker here-”
He threw his hands over his ears, yelling, “I'm going up to the room! Leave me out of this!” Clara laughed as he ran up the stairs.
Mary Anne shook her head at his antics and walked over to Clara, “Any trouble since we’ve been gone?”
“Not so far, the exciseman hasn’t been by yet and I doubt that South End Boy berk will be coming back anytime soon. John Miller — the one with the debt ya “paid” — told me they still think the place is haunted.”
“I still can’t believe all it took was a simple story and a thrown tumbler. I had a whole routine ready,” Mary Anne made to leave, “Best get to plannin’ with the kid. Let me know how much the tax has been upped this time when the exciseman does come. And that offer’s still on the table for later, Miss Fry.” Mary Anne headed up the stairs. She found Landen exactly as she thought she would, crouching next to the tiny bed, rummaging through the icebox.
“Figured you’d’ve had enough to eat today,” Mary Anne ruffled his brown-turned-blue hair then walked over to the sketch of the city hanging on the wall, “Alright, let’s start on this plan.”
“It’s a school, ain’t it? It’s not going to be that secure,” Landen popped a grape in his mouth.
“Another reason you shouldn’t be strikin’ out on your own yet.”
He continued chewing as he spoke, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You need to always know which locations have the most security-”
“I do!”
“-and,” Mary Anne looked over her shoulder at him, “you need to take notice when a location suddenly receives an overabundance of security. The University of Surgeons recently acquired more guards than seems necessary for a bunch of well inlaid kids. These guards appeared right around the same time they started buildin’ that… what are they calling it? A railway?”
Landen came over to the map tracing the construction zone from the South End upwards, “The construction goes past the walls, into Oldcreek District, and right past the university. We could get in that way.”
Mary Anne nodded, “Alright. You get yourself cleaned up and we’ll sneak in tonight.” He nodded and left the room. Mary Anne turned back to the map. Deciding it would be safest to follow along the under-construction railway as soon as possible, she made sure her lockpicks were at the ready then left to get the last item needed for the job.
●
            “Do I really have to wear this?” Landen looked at himself in the full-length mirror. Mary Anne had “acquired” him a dandy outfit. Dark blue tailcoat, tall dress boots, blue striped pantaloons, stockings, and while the silk shirt felt nice, it was all incredibly tight. “I feel like you’re about to set up my dowry.”
            Mary Anne held out the brown greatcoat for him to take, “With as much security as there is, it’s best we prepare for a distraction.” She attached two capes once the greatcoat was on, “Turn around,” Landen did so and Mary Anne placed the topper on his head, “There. Now try for that well equipped voice,” he hesitated, “Come on you just heard it last night. Unless you forgot that, too.”
            Landen mumbled, “They were some strong drinks,” before putting on an air of aristocracy, “Oh, my name is Sir Barchibald and I hate those peasants outside the city, goodness me!”
            Mary Anne grimaced, “We’re going to need to work on that.”
            Hours later, with the sun nearly set, Landen could pull off a passable aristocratic Miercean accent. They hastened down alleyways and backstreets, avoiding all the constable routes along the way. As they came out of the last alley leading to the under-construction tracks blocked off by a tall fence, they paused to let a constable pass before climbing over. From there they raced as stealthily as they could to the inner city and to Oldcreek.
Even without the wall separating the inner and outer city looming ever nearer, they could tell they were getting closer to Oldcreek. The houses looked more stable, the streets weren’t falling apart, and the brothels were hidden. Once they passed the wall, the improvements were even more noticeable. The roads were tarred, the buildings were much bigger, and even the bricks that made them were more even. Mary Anne wished she could tame the mastodons of the countryside to completely demolish the wall and let the fat culls have more than a taste of what her people had to deal with when the elephants came through. No one could tame the beasts, though, so she brought her thoughts back to the matter at hand.
            The back of the university looked like a defanged pike with all but one of the imposing columns having been taken down during the construction. The railway passed mere feet from the entrance. There were two guardsmen wearing the royal purple of the military on either side of the door.
As Mary Anne began to think up a plan, Landen bumped her arm. He had the largest grin she’d seen and whispered, “I’ve got this; I read it in the paper,” before shooting off towards the last column, using crates to stay out of sight. Once next to the column, he took a rope hanging from the scaffolding and tied it to a sandbag. Then he scurried up the scaffolding as best he could in his current attire and gathered all the tools, bricks, and other equipment there into a bucket which he tied to the same rope. He dropped the bucket over the side. As the bucket rushed to the ground, bringing the sandbag up as it went, Landen prepared to jump to the roof drain pipe.
The bucket smacked the ground with a reverberating crash. Landen jumped to the drain pipe as the two guardsmen let out yelps of surprise and rushed to the sound. Mary Anne ran over to the door just as Landen finished his climb down. They both headed inside as the two guardsmen wondering why there was a mess of tools on the ground unaware of the sandbag, now heavier than the bucket, flying their way.
Mary Anne raised an eyebrow at Landen, amused, “In the papers, huh?” He nodded, absolutely beaming. She glanced back at the doorway, “Whatever works.” They continued deeper into the university. Carefully following the signs leading to the supply room, Mary Anne peeked around a corner. There was their goal, right around the corner on the opposite wall. The door was labeled supplies, or at least she assumed so as all she could see was the “Supp.” The rest was covered by another guard in royal purple. The guardswoman stood alert, her muscular arms at her side resting beside a truncheon. Mary Anne pulled back around the corner, whispering, “Alright, time for that outfit to work its magic.”
“Wait, what?”
“Come on now, where’s that confidence from earlier?” Mary Anne straightened his coat, “You can’t be gettin’ cold feet now after all of that. Five minutes is all I need.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Landen put his head up high, imitated the walk he’d seen so many aristocrats do, and went off down the hall strutting like a crow in the gutter.
Immediately the guardswoman stopped him, hand now firmly on her baton, “Hey, now! What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Well, hello ma’am. I was just getting settled in for the night when I realized I had forgotten my book. Very silly of me, I know, but I rushed over as fast as I could and I’d like to go get it now.”
“Rushed over so fast your servant forgot your cravat?” The guardswoman gestured to his chest. Landen looked down as if he expected a cravat to appear out of nowhere. It did not.
“Ah, yes,” Landen looked back up at her, “I suppose she did.” He refrained from sending a scowl Mary Anne’s way.
The guardswoman eyed him for a moment, taking him all in, before saying, “Why don’t I escort you?”
“Yes, yes! That sounds great,” he began counting the minutes as he walked down the hall, guardswoman in tow.
As soon as Landen and the guardswoman rounded the corner, Mary Anne raced to the door. She pulled her lockpicks out and got to work. Despite being so heavily guarded, the lock was still just for a university’s supply room door and so unlocked easily. As Mary Anne opened the door, she froze. There were at least a hundred, if not more, crates completely filled with medicine. Much more than any medical university would need. Why the military was stockpiling medicine under guard, she didn’t have an answer for yet, though she wouldn’t put it past them that this was some ploy against the outer city. She thought about destroying the medicine but quickly decided that would be too noisy. Mary Anne filed it under something to work on after this job, grabbed a crate, and headed out.
Meanwhile, Landen was trying to kill the guardswoman with small talk, “-and that snowstorm last week. I had the pleasure of being caught out in it. Don’t think I’ve ever felt that frozen in my life! It was really somethin’ else. And then that flood two months ago-”
The guardswoman stopped, “What did you just say?”
Landen quickly tried to fix his accent, “I was caught in the snowstorm?”
“After that.”
“The flood?”
“Before that.”
“I was cold?”
She glared at him, “Alright, Mister “Barchibald the Third,” you’re under arrest.”
Landen shot down the hallway, the guardswoman still in tow. Taking the corner back to the supply room quite hard, he tripped over his new boots. He slammed into the ground, hat flying off, and the guardswoman leaped onto him.
Futilely straining against her, Landen did the only thing he could and yelled, “Get off!”
Down the hall, Mary Anne heard the rumpus, heard the yell. She quickly cracked the crate open, pulled out a bottle, and ran toward the sound. There she saw Landen on the ground, pale hands covering his head as the guardswoman wailed on him with her truncheon. Without stopping her charge, Mary Anne threw the bottle. It shattered over the guardswoman’s head, stunning her for a moment. Mary Anne took the opportunity and smashed into her full force. They both clashed for a bit, yanking hair and gut punching. The guardswoman landed a solid hit on Mary Anne’s shoulder with the baton and she heard a loud crack, but Mary Anne managed to grab hold of the truncheon. While she couldn’t yank it out of the guard’s hands, she was managing to prevent another swing for the time being.
Mary Anne kept her small, brown eyes focused on the woman as she spoke to Landen as he got to his feet, “Grab that medicine and get out of here.” Landen nodded and ran. The guardswoman tore the truncheon from her grip and shoved her into the wall. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold up against a trained military professional for long, yet she still used all she had as she rushed the guard again. At least Oldcreek presumably had a better prison than any district outside the walls.
●
            By the time Landen made it back to Tantivy and the pub that now had a boarded up window of its own, the sun was peeking out over the eastern sea. He hung out around the alley nearby, not wanting to be seen with either the medicine or his dandies, although, he didn’t wait long before his employers appeared on the other side of the street and walked over, ready to head back to the White Mastodon where Mary Anne would be waiting for him.
            The lady which he assumed to be the leader gave him a quick once over, “You’re a bit too well equipped for here, don’t you think?”
            Landen rolled his eyes, “Look, I just want to get out of this as soon as possible. Here’s your damn crate. It’s even opened top so you can see it’s not rats,” he handed the crate off to one of the men.
            “That’s nice and all but not what we’re here for,” she reached in her coat pocket and pulled out a police badge, “We’ve already been informed your boss was apprehended last night. She’ll be due for quite a straightforward trial this morning followed by hanging at the earliest convenience. The military may be unhappy with us but they can’t deny my method netted us the most notorious thief in the city,” she paused, “or her protégé.” Landen took a half step back. He needed to get to the Mastodon, these constables were clearly lying. Mary Anne would never let herself be caught. The lady held up her hand, “I suggest you don’t run; I’d rather not carry a corpse back.”
Landen nodded, raising his hands, “Yeah, ok, alright,” he made a move as if to walk forward, but paused, “Can I just, take this greatcoat off first? It’s startin’ to get fairly heavy.”
“Of course,” Landen began removing it, “It must be hard for someone of your… standing to wear proper clothing for-” he flung the large greatcoat at the constables and ran. The constables were quick to follow, but even with these “proper” boots, Landen knew the alleys better than they ever would. And once he made enough distance to safely take off the offending footwear, the constables had no chance of keeping up.
Soon, Landen was back at the White Mastodon, no constables in sight. Clara was once again cleaning tables, although this morning she was joined by a passed out drunk.
Clara looked up from her work, “Mister Fair! Tha’ job of yours done, I take it?”
He looked around the mostly empty room, “Where’s Mary Anne?”
“I don’t think she’s in yet.”
“No, she has to be here,” Landen rushed up the stairs to his room. It was more empty than the main room. He still looked around, as if she could be hiding, “Where is she?”
Clara put her hands on his shoulders, “Tell me what happened.” He did so, explaining everything from when they accepted the job to running from the constables. Clara gained a thoughtful look before fixing her eyes on him, “We’ll just have to break her out. Mister Fair, how many people have ya both helped?”
He answered immediately, “Well, probably just about everyone from here to Tantivy.”
“We’ll get them to assist,” Clara gave a small smile, “They can’t ignore all of us.” Clara decided to head to Tantivy for support since it wouldn’t be safe for Landen to go back anytime soon, “Besides,” she said, “I have a few greengrocers over there who owe me a thing or two.”
Landen, after changing into his much more comfortable, normal clothes, set out into the South End. It took him all of three steps before bumping into someone Mary Anne had helped.
            “Hey, Fair,” John said, looking down at him with big eyes through equally big spectacles, “Clara just ran pass, told me to wait here. She said you had somethin’ for me to do?”
            “Mary Anne needs help. Me and Miss Fry are gettin’ people together to get her out of Oldcreek.”
            John shook his head, “After she helped me with those debtors? Least I could do. Well, no. The least I could do is nothin’ but yeah, I’ll help.” Landen explained the plan to John and they both split up to gather everyone in the South End together. Word spread fast and by noon everyone from Tantivy to the South End was assembled at the gate to the inner city. The few guards stationed there were starting to get antsy.
            Clara walked up to him, “I can handle the crowd, you get to Oldcreek.” As Landen left on his way back to the railway — now devoid of a construction crew — he heard the protesting begin.
            While he was no expert on Oldcreek, finding the prison was quite easy. He just looked for the place with scarce few people and an abundance of constables. It helped that the railway was being constructed next to it as well. There were plenty of constables around, but they were there to keep prisoners from escaping. Nothing short of a mob would turn their attention to the outside. While Landen had one of those, they weren’t with him, and so he went unnoticed as he slipped inside much the same way he did at the university. People were going to learn to be a lot more careful where they kept their buckets.
            Inside, there were much fewer constables. Most were off dealing with the protest, Landen reasoned. He hoped they wouldn’t hurt anyone. The hallways were very sparse and dull brown in color. Although the Oldcreek prison was no doubt better funded, they clearly cared just as much about cleaning as the South End’s judging by the harsh odor. Landen had never been out in the country before but he was sure this smelled worse than anything those farmers’ animals could make.
            Another similarity between Oldcreek’s and the South End’s prisons, Landen discovered, was the layout. While not exactly the same — Oldcreek’s being much bigger — the basics were and he quickly found the cells. He also found his dear friend, the lady constable. She was now in her eye-piercing yellow uniform that tried to blind him with the way it reflected off the sunlight coming in through the hallway’s only window.
The lady was taunting, “I’m getting a promotion for this, you know. Catching the worst thief this city has ever seen with my own ingenious plan. My nanny always told me-”
            Landen took two gambles: one that there weren’t any other constables nearby, and two that they hadn’t cemented Mary Anne’s chains to the wall. He called out, “Hey! You yellow-bellied lobcock!”
            She turned his way, already red-faced in anger before she even recognized him, “You little-” A hand reached through the bars and latched onto the lady’s uniform, slamming her against the bars. The lady fell to the ground, unconscious. Landen ran up to the cell. Mary Anne was inside, and indeed while she had the usual ankle and waist chains, they were not cemented to the wall. She had a broken lip, broken nose, quite the black eye, was cradling one arm, and seemed to be favoring her left leg, but she was alive.
            Landen sighed in relief, “Mary Anne I-” he crouched down to grab the constable’s keys, her head beginning to bleed. Hopefully unconscious, “I didn’t know they were goin’ to- I shouldn’t’ve-  wouldn’t’ve-”
As soon as he unlocked the door, Mary Anne was holding his face, “Hey now, hey now. It’s alright, kid. Nothin’, I couldn’t handle,” she backed off, “I would greatly enjoy gettin’ out of these chains, though.”
Landen blinked rapidly, eyes moist, and smiled, “Yeah, on it.” As soon as the chains hit the floor, Landen heard footsteps coming from down the hall. Well, at least he got one out of two gambles right. Mary Anne took the keys from him and headed towards the nearest occupied cell.
She gestured down to the still bleeding constable as she passed, “Make sure she’s dead and grab that truncheon,” she moved aside as she opened the door to let the still chained man out, “We’ll get you out of those once we’re clear of this place.” She began unlocking the next occupied cell.
Landen glanced back down the hallway, “We need to go-”
A constable rounded the corner, calling out, “Sergeant, what’s all the… yelling…” the man froze as he took in the state of the hallway. Unconscious constable, two- no now three prisoners escaping, and a trespasser who was just as frozen as him. Snapping out of his trance, the constable grabbed his rattle and began spinning it, the noise easily echoing off the barren walls, while yelling back where he came from, “There’s been a breakout!” More footsteps were rushing towards their position now and the constable was running their way, wooden baton at the ready.
            Landen ran to Mary Anne as the now three released prisoners rushed passed him to confront the constable — one picking up the fallen constable’s baton along the way, “We’ve got to go!”
            Mary Anne shrugged him off, “I’m gettin’ these people out of here.”
            “Y’all are goin’ to end up back in there if we don’t go,” he took another glance down the hallway just as four more constables showed up. Three of them pulled the two prisoners the original constable was not able to deal with off of him while the fourth continued towards them. Landen quickly yanked the keys away from Mary Anne and, ignoring her protests, threw them into the cell she was trying to open before grabbing her good arm and running down the hallway in the direction he snuck in from, “We’re leaving!”
            Mary Anne, with her busted leg and a hallway of constables behind her, followed. Landen all but dragged her through the halls to the back entrance, constable right behind them like a sabercat chasing a rhino. He pushed through the exit door and was greeted with a baton to the jaw courtesy of a gentleman-in-yellow. Landen was thrown off the short staircase and slammed into the ground. The man, considering Landen neutralized, turned his focus to Mary Anne. She made a show of slowly raising her arm in surrender and took a step back to allow the new constable to step to the top of the stairs.
            She took another step back into the building as the constable that had been chasing them, hair slick with sweat, came up behind her, “Now, boys, I really don’t think this is goin’ to go your way.”
            The lanky constable in front of her took another step forward, full attention on her, “Of course it’s going to go our way, we’re the goo-” The sweaty constable behind her gasped as his companion disappeared out of sight of the doorway. Mary Anne rushed outside as fast as she could with a wounded leg. Landen had pulled the lanky one’s feet out from under him and was holding him down, his wooden truncheon cast from his hands. Not quite sure what to do now without directly hurting the man, he spit out blood and a tooth onto him.
The sweaty constable jumped off the stairs and grappled Landen off the lanky one. He tried to worm free, but the constable adjusted his hold so he was holding both his arms down. The lanky constable tried to stand back up. Mary Anne grabbed the forgotten baton as Landen used the sweaty constable’s hold on him to lean back on him and leap into the air, kicking the lanky constable back down. As the lanky constable fell back down, Mary Anne swung the truncheon into the sweaty constable’s nose. The man let out a yelp and dropped Landen in favor of holding his now red flooded nose. Mary Anne raised the baton to hit the constable over the head, but Landen grabbed her arm, stopping her, and ran for the fence. After helping Mary Anne begin climbing, he started up the fence as well. As they passed over the top, the two constables ran up.
            “Can you please stop?” the lanky one said as the sweaty one began climbing as well.
Landen dropped down from the fence, then made sure Mary Anne got down without further injuring her leg. The sweaty one, hands slippery with his own blood, hand only made it halfway up. Landen bashed into the fence a few times with his elbow, causing the man to fall onto his friend, and ran off into the city with Mary Anne.
Less than five minutes later and they had made their grand escape. The rest of the journey back was significantly longer with one of them being wanted and limping. Landen helped her over fences, but she refused to be carried. On the way, Landen retailed all that had happened since she had been caught.
It was the afternoon by the time they were passing back through the barely standing brick houses of the South End and the protestors had left. Landen went to take the turn to the White Mastodon when he noticed Mary Anne continuing east. He, of course, followed, “Where are we going?”
“The docks.”
He cocked his head, “Why?”
She stopped and turned to him, “I’m leaving.”
“What?”
“They used the military to take me in, Fair. And I've just escaped jail, injuring several constables and — in their eyes — inciting a riot to do so,” she continued on her way to the docks, “You know how they are. They won’t stop hurtin’ these people till they find me.”
“So we’re just going to leave them? After all this?”
“No, we’re not.”
“What then?”
She paused as they came out into the open sea air of the docks. There were two ships docked, a Miercean and a foreign merchant. She headed for the foreign merchant.
“You’re staying here,” she cut off his protest before he could give one, “Fair, just this morning you managed to bring half of the outer city together-”
“Not alone.”
“I’ve known you for over a decade, kid. Most of your ideas are great, if not flawlessly executed, but what plan is? Not mine, clearly.”
            “I don’t want you to go.”
            Mary Anne glanced back at him, “Neither do I.”
            As they approached the ship, flying red and purple colors, one of the sailors called out, “Miss?”
            She pulled out the lady constable’s coin purse and tossed it to him, “Here to work.” The sailor nodded and allowed her on. Mary Anne limped up the gangway, cold air whipping her hair about. She ran her hand along the wooden rail, turning around to face Landen.
He looked up at her, “Any last advice for me?”
She watched him, serious as ever, “Don’t take drinks from strangers.”