For Buckle Wolbruk stealing was easy; the getaway was the hard part.

Pain shot up his right leg as he ran—well, at least from his knee up. Everything below that was a wooden peg, strapped and latched to a nub, all that remained from an accident long ago. Each stride brought tears to his eyes. It was okay, though, it wouldn’t last forever.

Buckle’s friends were all out of sight now. Not a one stayed back to help him evade capture.

“Hold it right there,” a voice bellowed from a short distance behind. Buckle nearly obeyed, as it would put an end to the misery he felt in his leg. After a few more painful paces, he gave in and collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. The air was cool, with a hint of salt from the sea he’d grown accustomed to.

The tap, tap, tap of footsteps closed in on him. A man approached and revealed a pistol, aimed at Buckle.

Buckle instinctively lifted his hands. “No need for that, sir.”

The man let out an agitated sigh, then holstered his weapon. “Buckle? You’re not going to learn, are you? You’re not cut out for this kind of life.”

Buckle nodded. “I know. This was my last mission before…” his voice trailed off.

“Go ahead, then,” the officer said, motioning to Buckle’s side. “What’d you take?”

Buckle pulled the satchel over his head and placed it on the ground next to him.

“Open it up,” the officer said. “Slowly now.”

Buckle undid the satchel and carefully pulled out the contents. Some maps, a few flowers, and a handful of coins.

“Is that it?” the officer said.

“What’d you expect, a horse?”

“Your mates were right to leave you behind, eh?”

Buckle crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s all part of the plan then, isn’t it? You take trifles while they steal what’s valuable, then leave you behind to get caught.”

If that was the plan, Buckle hadn’t been in on it, but he began to wonder.

“There’s nothing insignificant about these maps,” Buckle reported. “To me, they’re worth more than some garbage I can fence for a few measly silvers.”

“So you’re admitting to stealing them?”

“Don’t fancy yourself clever, officer. You caught me fair-and-square.”

“Have you ever talked with Mr. Rosenheim? He’s quite gregarious, generous too. He’d probably give you the map if ever you asked him.”

“That would have been great to know before I got caught,” Buckle said lifting a flower to his nose. The purple pedals gave off a soft scent.

“Up on your feet—er, foot, now. I have to take you in. I wish I could say the pettiness of your crime would keep you out of real trouble…” The officer held out his hand for Buckle to hoist himself up with.

Buckle swatted the man’s hand away and pushed himself up.

“…but your reputation will no doubt make this offense severe,” the officer said. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Buckle asked.

“We need the names of those pretend friends of yours.”

Buckle shook his head. “There’s honor among thieves you know.”

“Of course there is, based on respect. They protect you; you protect them. I’m just asking you to consider the fact that you’ve got the honor, but they got the loot.”

The officer made a fair point. Why shouldn’t he sell them out if they sold him out first? Still, there was a nagging sense that something would go wrong for him, like when you don’t get a gift for a girl’s birthday because she told you not to, then all hell breaks loose.

“I’ve got nothing to say,” Buckle said.

The officer bent over and picked up the maps. “What about these maps then?”

“I told you. This was my last steal. I needed the map to leave town.”

A look of surprise struck his face as his eyes scanned the map. “The Black Islands? Why the hell would you want to go there?”

Buckle closed his hands together.

“Madness! In all my years I’ve not heard a single tale of fortune from travelers to that place,” the officer said, tying Buckle’s hands behind his back. “All insanity, shipwrecks, and…”

“Suicide,” Buckle said, glumly.

“Exactly.”

“I’m aware of the reputation,” Buckle said.

“You fancy shipwrecks, then?”

“There’s someone I’m looking for? And besides, I don’t intend on coming back here anyway.”

“Eager to make friends with the ghosts of the damned?”

“Couldn’t be worse than my present company, could it?”

The officer shook his head. “You are truly lost. Stealing a map to Hell to make a one-way journey is the most foolish thing I’ve heard.”

“I think of it more as a one-way ticket out of Hell, with all due respect.”

“You’d best watch your tongue. That’s treasonous talk. There’s no need to add disdain for country to your crime.”

“I harbor no ill-intent for this nation. I can’t’ barely harbor any emotion for it at all.”

“You sound like a dead man already. It’s no wonder you’re eager to migrate to those islands. I hear they turn men crazy, and they go on to suicide, but perhaps it’s the other way around. Maybe they call to people already lost,” the officer said and pulled Buckle away.

Buckle resisted. “Don’t forget the flowers.”

“You’re in no place to make demands, especially for stolen property.”

Buckle’s fists clenched behind his back. “Those aren’t stolen, I bought them.”

“With stolen money,” the officer scoffed.

“With honest money!” Buckle said. “They’re for someone special to me. I don’t get her involved with…this part of my life.”

“How noble,” the officer said, picking up the flowers. “I’m afraid these will be long dead by the time you get out of jail though.”