The Thief Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

off a few debts and I also needed new tools, but here, these are for you."
    On the floor, sparkling in the dim light, lay a couple of silver spoons, a medallion, a magnifying glass with a silver snake coiled around its handle, and a pair of golden tongs, set with tiny precious stones with a handle shaped like a rose.
    Bo, wide-eyed, leaned over Scipio's haul. Carefully, as if the treasures could crumble in his small hands, he picked up one piece after another, felt it, and put it back. "Is it all real?" he asked, looking at Scipio.
    Scipio just nodded. Pleased with himself and the world, he stretched his arms and lay down on his side. "So what do you say? Am I the Thief Lord, or not?"
    Riccio just nodded dumbfoundedly and even Hornet couldn't hide the fact that she was quite impressed.
    "Boy, one day they are going to catch you," Mosca murmured, staring fascinated at the serpentine magnifying glass.
    "No way!" Scipio rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. "Although I have to say it was quite a close call this time. The alarm system was not as old-fashioned as I expected and the lady of the house woke up just as I snatched the medallion from her bedside table. But I was on the roof of the house next door faster than she could climb out of her bed." He winked at Bo who was leaning against his knee, looking at him awestruck.
    "What are these for?" Hornet asked, holding up the rose tongs. "For pulling hair out of your nostrils?"
    "Hell, no!" Scipio pushed himself up and snatched the tongs from her fingers. "Those are sugar tongs."
    "How do you know all this stuff?" Riccio gave Scipio a look between admiration and envy. "You grew up in an orphanage just like me, but the nuns never told me anything about sugar tongs or stuff like that."
    "Well, it's been a while since I ran away from the orphanage," Scipio answered, brushing the dust from his black coat. "And, furthermore, I don't bury my nose in comics all day..."
    Riccio stared at the floor in embarrassment.
    "Well, I don't only read comics," said Hornet, putting her arm around Riccio's shoulder, "and I've never heard of sugar tongs. And even if I had, I wouldn't be stupid enough to get all stuck-up about it!"
    Scipio cleared his throat, avoiding Hornet's look. Finally he said more gently, "I didn't mean it, Riccio. You can get through life perfectly well without knowing what sugar tongs are. But I can tell you, this little thing is worth quite a bit, so this time you'd better get a decent price from Barbarossa. Understood?"
    "Can you also tell us how, then?" Mosca exchanged helpless glances with the others. "We really tried last time but he's just too smart for us."
    They all looked at Scipio remorsefully. Ever since he had become their provider and their leader, it had been their job to turn the loot into money while he took care of the stealing. Scipio had told them who to go to, but he left the haggling to them. The only person in town who would do business with a gang of kids was Ernesto Barbarossa. A fat man with a red beard, Barbarossa had an antiques shop where he sold cheap trash to the tourists, but he also did secret deals with more valuable, and usually stolen, items.
    "We're not all cut out for this!" Mosca continued. "Negotiations and haggling, and so on. The redbeard just takes advantage of us."
    Scipio frowned while he fiddled with the cord of his sack.
    "Prop can haggle like no one else," Bo suddenly said. "When we used to sell things at the flea market, he always put on this stony face and ..."
    "Shut up, Bo!" Prosper interrupted his little brother. His ears had turned bright red. "Selling old toys is a little different from all this ..." He nervously took the medallion out of Bo's hand.
    "What's so different?" Scipio scrutinized Prosper's face as if he could read there whether Bo had been right or not.
    "Well, I'd be glad if you dealt with it for us, Prop," Mosca said.
    "Yes." Hornet shuddered. "The redbeard gives me the creeps every time he looks at