“Perhaps I shouldn’t have robbed the mayor’s wife,” Neb murmured to himself as he hid behind a stack of barrels in the back of the alley, just out of torchlight from two patrolling city watchmen. The guards have really stepped up their pursuit since the incident, and the goblin hasn’t had a break since then. A gust of wind whipped through the alley, blowing over a wooden crate of empty bottles, crashing and clanking their way down to the next street. Neb shivered and wrapped his new fur coat tighter around him—which fitted more like a robe—and sniffed the perfume still on it. “Na, it was totally worth it.”

  The city watch searched through each nook and cranny, slowly making their way up the alley and closer to Neb. It was black as his mother’s heart that night—so dark that even the sparkle of an expensive diamond necklace would be lost in the gloom. The only other light was that of an oil lamp, reflecting on the sign Fortuna’s Fortunes from the next street ahead. The sign whipped violently as the wind howled; its rusty hinges squeaked louder than a chorus of a thousand mice. A hint of incense seeped through the fortune teller’s shop, masking the sweat dripping down Neb’s neck. By now, the watchmen were nearly on top of him. Neb trembled. He was doomed for sure. His luck went from sour, to bad, to downright rotten—and this would be the end for him. He’d be hanging on a tree somewhere just out of town by morning.

  The torchlight inched closer. Neb backed up as much as he could against the wall, but it wasn’t enough. Nearer and nearer they came. And when the flickering light licked his trembling silhouette, a groan came from further back in the alley. It took everything he had to not jump out of fright, and the two watchmen were startled as well. They forced their torches ahead of them—away from Neb’s hiding place—revealing an old man in rags lying on the ground with his back against the wall. His long, white beard shone brightly in the ember lights, covering his sunken, pale face.

  “Wha! Who’s there?!” cried the old man, awakening from his slumber. He frantically reached with his hands to feel who was beside him. His eyes drifted idly and appeared unaffected by the light of the torch. The two watchmen stared at him for a moment, collecting themselves from the startlement.

  “It’s just one of the beggars,” said the first watchman to the second in a deep, gruff voice, as he relaxed his guard. “And blind by the look of it.”

  “Citizen, have you seen a goblin on the loose?” inquired the second, who sounded much younger than the first. “He’d come up just past the waist, give or take a few inches, and would have in his possession a well-crafted fur coat.”

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  “Do you not pay attention to a word I tell you?” growled the first. “I said that the man is blind. How could he see anyone without seeing?!”

  “Ah… I suppose you’re right, sir!”

  The first watchman groaned, “Where would you be if your uncle wasn’t the captain?” Half talking to himself. He walked over to the old man and dropped a few coins into the copper pot at his feet.

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you, kind sir!” cried the beggar. “Your generosity is greatly appreciated!”

  The watchman said nothing, only gestured to his partner for him to follow, and the two of them disappeared around the corner to the next alley.

  Neb didn’t realize he was holding his breath that whole time. He exhaled, letting a moment of relief come over him. And just as quickly as it came, it left him.

  “Is someone still there?” called out the old man, still feeling around with his hands.

  Neb held his breath again. He did not want the city watch to return and find him. Perhaps if he was quiet for long enough, the beggar would go back to whatever he was doing.

  “I know you are still there.”

  Neb’s heart sank. That old man didn’t know that he was here the whole time, did he? Neb had no choice now, so he stepped out from behind the barrels. Making his voice as deep as he could, he said, “Yes… Hello! Just going for an evening stroll.” He hoped it was just believable enough to sound like one of the menfolk.

  “Oh, hello to you,” greeted the beggar. “Strange time to go out for a walk, isn’t it?”

  “Well, if you had a nagging wife and a dozen screaming children running about the house, anytime is a good time to get out for fresh air.”

  “I had a wife once,” said the old man, leaning back as if old memories rushed back to him. “Ornery as butter she was! And children? Oh yes, dozens of them. But they didn’t scream, no. More like howled, and especially when hungry. They would even bite if you weren’t careful!” He laughed as he massaged his right hand.

  Neb didn’t know what to say after that. Shifting awkwardly where he stood, Neb desperately searched for a way to get himself out of wasting any more time here. Time was fleeting—he needed to be elsewhere ten minutes ago. And if time is money, that was ten minutes worth of coin.

  Hmm… Coin.

  He gazed at the copper pot with his greedy goblin eyes. Perhaps I can get something out of this after all.

  “You seem like a good man who’s fallen on hard times; let me give you a hand,” said Neb as he tossed two coins into his pot. He threw them especially hard so the clank would ring loud, giving Neb the cover to just as quickly snatch a handful of coins from his pot. A pointy grin spread wide across Neb’s face, and he began to stride away.

  “Oh, thank you very much good sir! How very generous of you!” he said. “May the Heavens give to you the same generosity you have shown me!”

  Neb froze mid-step. He pondered for a moment the meaning of his praise, but just shook his head and kept moving. Not being the superstitious type, he put it out of his mind and marched on to his target.