The other boys teased Rollan for his reluctance to pinch things. They had tried to nickname him Justice, but he had forcefully declined. Actually, he had dodged all of their attempted nicknames, which was why he was the only guy in the group without one.
No matter how he looked at it, stealing from the apothecary would be difficult. The owner had an unfriendly reputation. His employees were vigilant, and they turned troublemakers over to the militia. Rollan had warned the others not to go after the extract. Hands could have managed it, but nobody else had a fraction of his skill.
Rollan wasn’t above asking for help. Begging had been good to him. Certain bakeries and inns didn’t mind handing over stale bread or other unwanted food. But times were hard and getting harder. Amaya was a young continent, much of it still untamed, and even in a big town like Concorba, if a harvest went poorly or if pirates harassed the importers, pretty soon everyone felt the squeeze. Those at the bottom of the pecking order felt it the worst.
There wasn’t time to beg for enough money to buy the extract. Rollan had decided he would swipe it if he could — after all, the life of a friend outweighed some rule. But after casing the store, he didn’t think success was possible. Should he try anyway?
Rollan had asked for help from everywhere that made sense. Except at the apothecary. Unlikely as that option seemed, it might be more fruitful than the alternative. Steeling himself, he went inside.
The owner, Eloy Valdez, stood behind the counter in a white apron. He had bushy gray sideburns and a receding hairline. His eyes locked on Rollan, who always drew attention when he entered a business. Even in his best clothes, he was too young and too scruffy.
Rollan walked directly to the owner. “Good afternoon, Mr. Valdez.” Rollan tried on his brightest smile. He knew beneath the grime he was a handsome kid, with his dark tousled hair and tan skin, but there was a lot of grime.
“Hello, boy,” the man replied, his gaze suspicious. “Can I help you?”
“Not me so much as a friend,” Rollan said. “He has a horrible fever. This is the third day and it keeps getting worse. I’m an orphan, him too. He needs willow extract. I don’t have money, but I can work hard, help tidy up, whatever you need.”
Mr. Valdez made the I-wish-I-could-help-you face Rollan had seen so often. “That’s an expensive remedy. And it’s in short supply these days, making it more costly still.”
“I don’t mind putting in a lot of work,” Rollan offered.
Mr. Valdez sucked air through his teeth. “You know how times are. My two assistants already take care of everything. I have no spare chores, and plenty of qualified men waiting for a vacancy. Sorry.”
Rollan’s cheeks burned with shame, but Digger needed him. “Maybe you could get creative? You know, to help stop a kid from dying?”
“You want charity,” Mr. Valdez said knowingly. “I’m afraid I have a strict no-charity policy. Medicines are pricey. If your friend were the only soul in town who couldn’t pay, I’d surely lend a hand. But endless people have desperate needs and no money. If I give you a free remedy, I should provide for all the others as well. I’d be out of business in a week.”
“I won’t tell anyone where it came from,” Rollan promised. “You might not be able to help everyone, but you can help him. Please, Mr. Valdez. He’s got nobody.”
“Secrets like free willow extract don’t keep,” Mr. Valdez said. “Besides, your tale may be true, but some such stories might not be. How am I supposed to tell the difference? I can’t help you. Good day.”
Rollan had been dismissed. What options were left? If he returned after this, Mr. Valdez would study his every move. Stealing the extract was no longer a possibility. “How would you feel if you were alone in some alley, sick, no place to go, and everyone ignored you?”
“That’s why I don’t live on the streets,” Mr. Valdez said. “That’s why I worked hard to get where I am, and why I intend to stay here. The needs of an urchin are not my obligation.”
“Hard work doesn’t always get you off the streets,” Rollan said, frustration surging through him. “It won’t always keep you off them either. What if your store burned down?”
Mr. Valdez narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
Rollan raised both hands. “No! I just mean bad luck can strike anywhere.”
“Aldo!” Mr. Valdez called. “This person needs help finding the door.”
The cause was lost. Rollan decided he could stop licking Mr. Valdez’s boots. “You need help finding a heart. I hope you catch something without a remedy. Something besides old age.”
A large man with his sleeves rolled back over thick, hairy arms strode in from the back of the store. He came straight toward Rollan. Behind him, Smarty ducked behind the apothecary counter.
How had Smarty gotten in here? Through the back door? What was he thinking? His nickname was a joke, not a compliment. He was going to get them both busted! Rollan tried not to stare at his friend. Instead he watched Aldo approach.
“You thick?” Aldo barked. “Beat it!”
Rollan sidled toward the door, trying not to move too quickly. He needed to get out of there, but if he ran off, Smarty would get nabbed for sure.
Aldo closed the distance, seized Rollan roughly by the back of his neck, and marched him toward the doorway. “Don’t let us catch you in here again,” the big man warned.
“Aldo!” Mr. Valdez cried.
Looking back, Rollan saw Smarty speeding toward the back of the store.
“He took a packet of willow extract!” Mr. Valdez shouted. “Santos!”
Aldo dragged Rollan toward the rear of the store. “Get back here or your friend gets it!” the big man yelled.
Smarty never glanced back. By the time Aldo reached the back door, Smarty was out of sight.
“Santos!” Mr. Valdez cried, joining them. “Where’s Santos?”
“On that errand, remember?” Aldo said.
Mr. Valdez turned furious eyes on Rollan. “All that talk about working to pay off the debt — you were setting me up while your accomplice snuck in here! Very low, even for scum.”
“He did it on his own,” Rollan insisted.
“Save it, kid,” Aldo said. “You helped steal the goods, you’ll do the time.”
Rollan kicked out at Aldo’s knee, but the big man took it without a flinch. Rollan could feel the strength of the hand on his neck.
No matter how he looked at it, stealing from the apothecary would be difficult. The owner had an unfriendly reputation. His employees were vigilant, and they turned troublemakers over to the militia. Rollan had warned the others not to go after the extract. Hands could have managed it, but nobody else had a fraction of his skill.
Rollan wasn’t above asking for help. Begging had been good to him. Certain bakeries and inns didn’t mind handing over stale bread or other unwanted food. But times were hard and getting harder. Amaya was a young continent, much of it still untamed, and even in a big town like Concorba, if a harvest went poorly or if pirates harassed the importers, pretty soon everyone felt the squeeze. Those at the bottom of the pecking order felt it the worst.
There wasn’t time to beg for enough money to buy the extract. Rollan had decided he would swipe it if he could — after all, the life of a friend outweighed some rule. But after casing the store, he didn’t think success was possible. Should he try anyway?
Rollan had asked for help from everywhere that made sense. Except at the apothecary. Unlikely as that option seemed, it might be more fruitful than the alternative. Steeling himself, he went inside.
The owner, Eloy Valdez, stood behind the counter in a white apron. He had bushy gray sideburns and a receding hairline. His eyes locked on Rollan, who always drew attention when he entered a business. Even in his best clothes, he was too young and too scruffy.
Rollan walked directly to the owner. “Good afternoon, Mr. Valdez.” Rollan tried on his brightest smile. He knew beneath the grime he was a handsome kid, with his dark tousled hair and tan skin, but there was a lot of grime.
“Hello, boy,” the man replied, his gaze suspicious. “Can I help you?”
“Not me so much as a friend,” Rollan said. “He has a horrible fever. This is the third day and it keeps getting worse. I’m an orphan, him too. He needs willow extract. I don’t have money, but I can work hard, help tidy up, whatever you need.”
Mr. Valdez made the I-wish-I-could-help-you face Rollan had seen so often. “That’s an expensive remedy. And it’s in short supply these days, making it more costly still.”
“I don’t mind putting in a lot of work,” Rollan offered.
Mr. Valdez sucked air through his teeth. “You know how times are. My two assistants already take care of everything. I have no spare chores, and plenty of qualified men waiting for a vacancy. Sorry.”
Rollan’s cheeks burned with shame, but Digger needed him. “Maybe you could get creative? You know, to help stop a kid from dying?”
“You want charity,” Mr. Valdez said knowingly. “I’m afraid I have a strict no-charity policy. Medicines are pricey. If your friend were the only soul in town who couldn’t pay, I’d surely lend a hand. But endless people have desperate needs and no money. If I give you a free remedy, I should provide for all the others as well. I’d be out of business in a week.”
“I won’t tell anyone where it came from,” Rollan promised. “You might not be able to help everyone, but you can help him. Please, Mr. Valdez. He’s got nobody.”
“Secrets like free willow extract don’t keep,” Mr. Valdez said. “Besides, your tale may be true, but some such stories might not be. How am I supposed to tell the difference? I can’t help you. Good day.”
Rollan had been dismissed. What options were left? If he returned after this, Mr. Valdez would study his every move. Stealing the extract was no longer a possibility. “How would you feel if you were alone in some alley, sick, no place to go, and everyone ignored you?”
“That’s why I don’t live on the streets,” Mr. Valdez said. “That’s why I worked hard to get where I am, and why I intend to stay here. The needs of an urchin are not my obligation.”
“Hard work doesn’t always get you off the streets,” Rollan said, frustration surging through him. “It won’t always keep you off them either. What if your store burned down?”
Mr. Valdez narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
Rollan raised both hands. “No! I just mean bad luck can strike anywhere.”
“Aldo!” Mr. Valdez called. “This person needs help finding the door.”
The cause was lost. Rollan decided he could stop licking Mr. Valdez’s boots. “You need help finding a heart. I hope you catch something without a remedy. Something besides old age.”
A large man with his sleeves rolled back over thick, hairy arms strode in from the back of the store. He came straight toward Rollan. Behind him, Smarty ducked behind the apothecary counter.
How had Smarty gotten in here? Through the back door? What was he thinking? His nickname was a joke, not a compliment. He was going to get them both busted! Rollan tried not to stare at his friend. Instead he watched Aldo approach.
“You thick?” Aldo barked. “Beat it!”
Rollan sidled toward the door, trying not to move too quickly. He needed to get out of there, but if he ran off, Smarty would get nabbed for sure.
Aldo closed the distance, seized Rollan roughly by the back of his neck, and marched him toward the doorway. “Don’t let us catch you in here again,” the big man warned.
“Aldo!” Mr. Valdez cried.
Looking back, Rollan saw Smarty speeding toward the back of the store.
“He took a packet of willow extract!” Mr. Valdez shouted. “Santos!”
Aldo dragged Rollan toward the rear of the store. “Get back here or your friend gets it!” the big man yelled.
Smarty never glanced back. By the time Aldo reached the back door, Smarty was out of sight.
“Santos!” Mr. Valdez cried, joining them. “Where’s Santos?”
“On that errand, remember?” Aldo said.
Mr. Valdez turned furious eyes on Rollan. “All that talk about working to pay off the debt — you were setting me up while your accomplice snuck in here! Very low, even for scum.”
“He did it on his own,” Rollan insisted.
“Save it, kid,” Aldo said. “You helped steal the goods, you’ll do the time.”
Rollan kicked out at Aldo’s knee, but the big man took it without a flinch. Rollan could feel the strength of the hand on his neck.
