Chapter One

As a rule, it's logical to assume that an eleven-year-old girl waking up alone and shivering on a cold street is likely to be afraid and uncomfortable. If you also consider that she has absolutely no idea of how she got there, or why she is dressed only in rags, you might understand how she could become more than a little bit troubled.

I became downright worried when I realized that I hadn't just forgotten how I'd gotten myself into this situation, but nearly everything else, as well. Therefore, I just continued to sit there in that dismal, stench-filled alley and desperately tried to remember anything I could. For a long while, I was of the opinion that I'd just been born. However, my dirty skin and rags made me realize that I'd been around long enough to become filthy dirty. How long didn't really matter, for I could dredge up no memories prior to the moment I'd awakened. None. I was a blank slate.

I noticed that there was a leather knapsack beside me, but I didn't know what was inside it or even if it belonged to me.

I realized I was hungry, and tore into the bundle looking for something to eat. The only things in it were a handful of white, silk towels and a golden lamp that I couldn't open. I tried to look down its spout, but saw only blackness. A pleasant smell came from it, but I heard nothing inside when I shook it.

Sighing hopelessly, I returned the items to the pack. I wondered if I'd stolen them, for they didn't look like the kinds of things a girl in my situation could afford to own. At any rate, all that mattered at the moment was that I couldn't eat them.

It wasn't even dawn yet, though the fact that the sky was getting lighter made it clear that dawn wouldn't be far off. Through the tops of the buildings I could see that the day would be clear, and hopefully sunny and warm, for my small bones seemed frozen stiff. Tentatively, I reached out my arms and immediately felt the cold morning air rush through a dozen rips and tears in my shirt, if you could still call it a shirt. It would be more accurate to call it a cape, for it had obviously once belonged to a much larger person and hung on my skinny body very loosely. It stank of the garbage from the alley, but I was certainly warmer than I would've been if my skin had been bared to the chill morning air. I could tell that my upper body was in fairly decent shape, for my skinny arms weren't even slightly scraped or scratched, and moving them ached only because I'd grown so chilled during my unknown time in the alley.

With another long sigh, I put my hands down on the cobblestone street I'd been sitting on and pushed myself to my feet. I was wearing a pair of ragged pants, also awkwardly tailored from a much larger pair. They were so ragged that they ended midway down my calves, and I could see the pale skin of my legs before they disappeared into a pair of shabby leather boots that, if they were my size, made me a girl with very big feet. But I could tell by wiggling my toes that there was a lot of empty space, and that there were holes in the bottoms of them. Again, though, they were still a lot better than nothing, so I didn't lament their condition very much.

My legs were as sore as my arms from the cold, but also seemed to be in good condition. I decided that, even though I was dressed in rags and had a gnawing hunger in my tummy, I was otherwise just fine.

I looked around me, silently appraising the condition of the alley. The huddled forms of other people in rags were curled up in various corners. They didn't move, and I wondered if they were dead. I was instinctively afraid of them and made certain to remain very quiet. There were also many trashcans, crates and empty pallets strewn about. Garbage was scattered everywhere, along with rotting food that smelled sadly like my clothes.

One end of the alley ended in a high wooden fence, aged and weathered to a hopeless gray. The other apparently opened onto a street. I tried to improve my appearance by adjusting the rags about my body, then picked up my bundle and headed for the open end.

There was a street there, made of cobblestones like the alley, which was lined with two- and three-story buildings. None of them looked inviting. There were a few piles of horse dung in the road, and the sight immediately brought the images of tall, sleek animals into my mind. Horses! I suddenly realized that I loved horses, even though I had no memories of actually seeing them with my own eyes. I felt satisfaction in just knowing what they looked like, though, at least enough to recognize their droppings in the street.

I didn't feel surprised by anything I saw. There were a few people pushing carts or carrying crates toward the west, and I hitched my pack up on my back and stepped farther out of the alley to try and see where they were going. A carriage pulled by two horses soon passed by, and I turned and watched as it went past. The brown animals leading it didn't look very happy. I wanted to go up and pet them, but I knew the man driving them would be angry with me. He already looked like he was upset and in a hurry. Grownups always looked like that, I knew.

The street seemed to open up a few blocks to the west, and I felt certain that there must be a public square there or something. If there was, I thought I'd have a good chance of finding food there.

I looked down at myself again, and was surprised to discover that there was a small gold medallion hanging from a thin, gold necklace against my pale white little chest. I held it up to my eyes and looked at it closely. It was about an inch around, with an engraving of a naked boy and girl standing on a hilltop and gazing at a sunrise. They were facing away, with the taller boy's arm draped across the girl's thin shoulders. The engraving was very intricate, down to the smooth, round contours of their bottoms and the cleft separating their young cheeks. I could even see the gentle curves of their shoulder blades on their young backs.

It seemed like an odd engraving for a girl to have on a necklace, but I liked it and it seemed important to me. I turned it over, and the opposite side had "Kelva Protect Us" inscribed on the smooth plate of gold. Maybe Kelva was my name. Maybe it held some clue about who my parents were, and I could use it to find out who I was. At any rate, I didn't want to lose it, so I tucked it into my shirt and buttoned the rags up as far as they would go. A good portion of my little chest was still bare through the top button, but the necklace was hidden, and I trusted that no thieves would see it and take it from me.

I made a second startling discovery when I found that I was also wearing a gold ring. It, too, had engravings on it, but I couldn't read them. I was fairly sure I knew how to read, but the letters were unrecognizable. I wondered if they were in a foreign language. Perhaps I'd have to sell the ring to get some money for food. Maybe the lamp and silk, too -- I didn't know. I decided that no matter what, I wasn't going to sell the necklace, though. Just the feel of the dainty chain wrapped around my thin neck felt comforting, and I suspected that it held some clue to my identity. Shrugging my girlish thoughts away, I started walking in the same direction everyone else seemed to be.

The air got warmer as I walked, and my joints loosened up and began feeling better. I felt oddly happy, though I had no apparent reason for being so: I was dressed in rags; I was hungry; and I knew no one, including myself. Still, I was young and free and ready to face whatever came my way. Mostly, I was delighted to be walking along the street and seeing so many new things. The world was big and glorious, and I wanted to see all of it. My feet, feeling very tender, scraped against the cobblestones through the holes in my boots, but even that couldn't dull my childish excitement.

A few blocks from the alley, the road ended in a huge square as I'd expected it to. Already, a hundred merchants were scurrying about and readying stalls. They carried or dragged crates and pallets of fresh vegetables, fruits, fish, and meats. Burden-laden boys not much older than me accompanied many of them. These boys looked about as ragged as I did, and I wondered if maybe all children dressed in rags. The grownups with them were dressed a little better, but didn't seem to like the dirty boys. I saw several boys being slapped and ordered about harshly. They didn't look as happy as I felt, but they didn't cry or object to their treatment......(cont)