Yendra

Background

The pony was heaving tonight. However, this did not obscure the view of her intended target. A fat and ugly over-jewelled merchant from out of town, flashing his gaudy trinkets in front of the honest farm-folk that had come up from Combe for the night.
She felt her teeth press together painfully as she grated them whilst watching the obscene laggard's woman flinching as another belting roar of laughter escaped his jowls. She looked the woman from toe to brow, noting her acquiescent body language-it was obvious as to what went on behind closed doors, it was simply disgusting.
She had been like this since the crops had failed that one year, since the longest winter she and her family had known. She knew her life could have been so different if it had only snowed three weeks later-just three weeks to change a life.
Her thoughts drifted back to when she had been caught in the streets of Bree stealing from the pockets of the well to do. That guard had been her saviour that day, he had asked of her why she was thieving, why one so young had turned to such a thing. She knew enough to turn on the waterworks, cry and sob and wail..it had the desired effect but in a unique way that she never would have counted on.
The kindly guard had taken her to a friend of his, one who was a master of the arts of shadow and cunning. It was strange how the law can go in hand with the lawless... This man had taught her to turn her hand to thieving and trickery of a different kind. He taught her a peculiar kind of nobility to the thief's path. She was still a thief, a rogue and vagabond. A woman who you cannot trust, who will steal what is most precious or at least that is what her father thinks of her, she mused.
The shame when she had been caught leaving the laird's estate in the north fields... she remembered her time there in the cellar all to well, her fingers tracing the lines of her brand absently, the mark of the thief, the brigand..the liar.
She smiled as her gaze went from face to face in the crowded inn, her smile lingering on her partner in crime, a fellow scoundrel Riyal. Riyal tonight was posing as a minstrel, booked by Butturbur to play to the crowds, to keep the flow of goodwill and ergo the flow of ale. She nodded to Riyal to begin his song, a song rowdy and raucous-guaranteed to appeal to the fat, vulgar merchant.
As the notes began to work their magic on the packed house, she worked her way towards her target, anticipating the weight of his coin purse in her hand. Maybe, just maybe tonight she might score enough to buy her mother that beautiful cotton dress she had seen that day at market. Those dreadful Lillylake sisters swam in her mind's eye once again, laughing and taunting their way across her vision. Always mocking her out in the field's they were, their parents skilled tailors, quite well to do they were-always sneering at her hand-me-downs...they always seemed to catch her when she was sodden with the soil, from tilling the land. They had even whispered viscous remarks about her mother, this made the taste of bile fill her mouth-she had oft imagined giving them what they truly deserved, but alas she could not do that to their parents. So she would make her mother the princess she truly was!
The merchant didn't even look her way as she took the leaden purse full of ill gotten gain. She simply and honestly stole what she wanted-unlike this man, who had words of honey to your face but left a hidden after-taste of bitter.
As she emerged into the night air and made her way down the poorest quarter of town, to where a young mother was waiting for a kind passer by to drop a few coppers in her bag. Well tonight it would seem, her dreams might just come true. Yes, Yendra thought to herself, there is honour amongst thieves...