(1. The One-Armed Thief) (continued)
"Hey, little cyclops," said a voice above her, "whatcha you got there?" Vreskah's head jerked up to see two boys standing above her, leaning in agressively. She did not recognize them, which meant they were not children belonging to the Spider-Mother. She smiled again. It was fortunate - she dared not consider what the Spider-Mother would do, if she heard that Vreskah was keeping money for herself. Vreskah stood, still smiling.
"I won them," she said, holding up her coins. "I won them in a game."
It was true. Every time she went on the street, every time she picked pockets, she was playing a game, a game of chance. It was a game she always won, of course.
The shorter of the boys snorted. "We did'n ask how you came by them," he said, "We're no inspectors. But anyhow, you'll be giving them here. And that necklace of yours."
Vreskah sighed internally, although her smile remained fixed. So they were stupid. She had hoped they might be clever enough to see what the necklace meant, but like so many of their colleagues, they failed to fully consider the implications of the situation - that a street-rat wearing jewelry would not be wearing it visibly unless she were capable of keeping it. The gold chain used to have another meaning, but now, it meant she was a winner, and you did not pick a fight with a winner.
Vreskah held the coins in the palm of her hand, feeling their weight, and the cool of the metal against her sweaty palms.
"Come now," said the taller boy smoothly, "we don't like be'in tough on cripples. There's no honor innit. But sometimes, we like to be repaid for our kindness. Now won't ye be a smart lass, and give those here?" He made to step forward.
Vreskah's fingers closed tightly around the Imperial Golds.
"No," she said, "I don't believe I shall."