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She fixed her eyes on a high-born K?'nere man hovering through the thoroughfare, his face buried in a gold-lined book.
‘Sire, sire,’ she called, chasing after him, ‘please take the last one left. Ten schill coins, if you can. But anything will do.’
The man ignored her, but she persisted, racing after him, taking flight, until she reached out and tugged his robe.
That’s when the K?'nere whipped around.
Killen’s eyes widened as he kicked hard.
He growled as the girl flew through the air, her wooden figurines exploding from her tray and shattering on the ground.
She, too, was about to hit the surface when a strong arm tagged her.
She looked up into Killen’s face. ‘Sante,’ she gasped.
Wriggling from his grasp, she rushed to her broken wares.
A blaze of rage lit up the Král-In-Waiting’s craw.
He’d zero fokks to give when the weaker were violated by the stronger, more so if the victim was a defenceless soul or child.
The K?'nere was tracking further down the street
Killen threw his hood on and spun into a dark corner.
While he did, he let his hawkstone loose.
It sent a razor wind into the atmosphere, projecting air into a gale so sharp it could cut through matter from a distance.
The íkan-infused wind whipped around the nobleman.
First, the K?'nere’s cloak fell apart, then his trews, shirt, and underwear.
The semi-crowded street came to a stop, and Katánians gazed in shock and amusement as the noble tried to gather up his flayed gear.
Killen dispatched one of his koyas into the fray, guiding it to where the high-born was flailing for his ribboned clothes.
The weapon turned to its side and delivered a series of lightning-fast slaps on the nobleman’s exposed backside.
Before it whirled and tore back, it moved so fast it was almost invisible to the eye.
It stopped in a hover over the young lass who was trudging empty-eyed through the streets.
A bundle fell into her tray as it whipped away.
The girl was startled and reached with trembling hands for the pouch that had dropped from thin air.
Killen zeroed in on her expression as she opened it, her face lighting up.
Even from afar, he estimated the heavy sac contained enough gold schills to cover her wage for several weeks if not a month or two.
She grinned, then darted her eyes around, searching for her benefactor.
She found no one, for most street folks were focused on free entertainment in the opposite direction.
From the shadows, he sent her a kusudi intent. Go, you earned it.
She widened her eyes, blinked and nodded before scurrying away, disappearing into the crowd, her mellow green krest shaking in the wind.
