I need to improve prologue..someone help?

Hi, can someone help me out here? I need to improve this. Sentence structure and wording. Is it boring? By the way I cant seem to post under Share Your Work. If anyone knows how, please let me know.

The Meet was a yearly meeting the King Tyzlan Lyzar Rubithos sar Denath of Venth of the Ezzek Empire has with his high lords, the wealthy merchants and overlords, who arrive in Athel to seek hearing and address with their king. It was held in the part of the year just when the cool, relaxing spring was replaced by the blistering scorch of summer. Thus it was so that on this day, only a few days into summer, the local market thronged with a large crowd of said people, gathered to attend said meeting. Dressed in their rich and superfluous robes, with a large purse hung ostentatiously by their waist, they were easy to spot, and ripe for the picking.

Tarya moved amongst the bustling crowd. She walked at a leisurely pace, a finger playing the seams of her dress, her eyes seeming to wander mindlessly on the goods the vendors peddled. But her mind was alert, calculative and on other things aside from the pleasant stocks the vendors had specially hoarded for this time of the year. The target: A young lord dressed in expensive, pale cream robes, his thin, slender fingers bedecked with humongous-jeweled rings. However, it was the heavy pouch that hung from his waist that Tarya eyed. From the smooth bend of the lord’s cheek, it was unlikely that he had seen a day’s growth of beard. Still, he managed to walk with the imperious swagger of a man who knew he had it all. A duke’s son, Tarya figured.

Her eyes skipped to the guards mounted on their horses, some distance away by the fruit stall. The guards were heavily armored, a hand on the scabbard of their swords. They sat with their backs straight, their eyes moving vigilantly around the market. They, like her, were on the prowl. It was well known that the king disliked thieves, especially those who stole from his rich servants and lords. The law had been passed that anyone caught stealing in the capital city of Athel would be whipped and then hung in the city’s quadrangle, without water or food until the life left their bodies and they were naught but bones. But that was nothing compared to the king’s latest sadistic punishment. Caught offenders were amputated at the arms and then hung up at the city gates until they bled to their deaths. The horrific way of death was enough of a deterrent for many.
However, for some others impoverished their entire lives, living in the filthy, decrepit sections of the city, with elderly mothers and children dying from lack of food, they were left with little choice but to continue the risky business of pinching food or money, even with the knowledge of the ghastly consequences.

It was mostly such who were caught.

But Tarya was not such. Dressed in a modest dress, she could almost have been a daughter of a blacksmith or even of a well-to-do merchant. Her target was within reach by now. Making sure the guards’ gazes were not on her, she reached out with one hand and expertly unhooked the pouch from the lord’s waist without his notice. She began to ease away gently when a running boy crashed into her. Flailing to regain her balance, the pouch fell loose from her hand, hurtled towards the ground and hit the floor with a loud chink.

Silver pensas and gold innaks spilled out and began its ominous dance on the paved ground.

Tarya looked up, wide-eyed. The young lord’s face had turned into a red tomato hue and then an inevitable bellow of, “Thief!” exploded from his lungs.

Tarya ran for her life.

Okay. I loved your constructive criticism. I'll try to mix and match what I have so far...Mind seeing the next chapter? I don't know much about the info dump thing, but everytime I read through fantasy novels in the bookstore, they seem to have more info dumps than I do. So I tried to do it their style. But I'll definitely take your advices. I like FennelGirraffe's one. I would probably adopt that style...

Chapter 1

Grim darkness cloaked the decrepit houses. What little illumination in the area came only from randomly situated large cans, in which small fires had been started with whatever bits and pieces that could be found. Disheveled, thinly clothed men and women huddled together around these cans to keep warm. Too weak with cold and hunger, they paid no heed as a figure scurried past them, rounded a corner and disappeared into the darker alleyway.

The figure flattened herself to the grimy, algid walls after another few turns and dared a peek around the next corner. Rats scampered across the lane, littered with broken bottles and waste. An acrid stench of urine, dung and rotten food wafted to greet her nostrils but the street was otherwise empty. Relieved, she darted further down until finally, upon reaching an aged, blackened wooden door, she stopped and fumbled clumsily for the key.

The door swung open suddenly. Surprised, she jumped.

Fenril, Tarya’s accomplice, stood at the doorway. “You scared me!”

He stepped back to allow her in, and she quickly shut the door. The room was dark, save for a dull orange glow given off by two stubs of wax by the grime-smeared windows. It was a place secured by Tarya for only the purpose of meeting up after each day’s work to split the earnings. With the increased surveillance in the markets, she was afraid that a guard could follow and capture them.

Fenril was the first to speak. “You were caught.”

“I was almost caught,” she immediately corrected.

“Almost?” Fenril grinned.

Oh, what she would give to box that mocking set of teeth out. She had a million other comebacks to articulate, but stopped short when she suddenly realized she had been whispering. Her nerves were still jumping from her close brush with the guards.

Fenril didn’t notice. He pulled out a wooden chair, one of the few furniture in the dingy room, and settled himself quite comfortably onto it. The other sparse furniture available in the room was just a rocky table and a rotting wooden cupboard. “You were caught,” he began to explain, “just fortunate to escape.” His grin widened, if that were possible. “But you should have seen the look on your face then.” He laughed aloud.

Tarya felt the heat in her cheeks rise. Not from embarrassment, but anger. She could never get embarrassed in front of Fenril, because the man had to be the biggest walking embarrassment in the entire history of the Ezzek Empire. But for Vaile, the teacher who had adopted her and taught her all the tricks of the trade, she certainly wouldn’t have given one whit about him.

“Stop laughing,” she snapped at his grating laughter. “Don’t you know the danger I face? That man was probably some high lord’s son.” She had to get out of Athel fast.

She didn’t realize that she had spoken the last thought aloud until Fenril exclaimed, “You can’t just leave!”

“Of course I can,” she retorted irritably.

“What about me?” Reality had finally sunk into the man’s dense head.

“Humph, that’s nothing to do with me.”

Fenril jumped out of his chair. “Of course I have everything to do with you! Don’t forget what my father said to you.”

“Fenril,” she replied, disgusted, “You’re twenty and five, five years older and supposedly wiser than me. Surely you can take care of yourself.”

“But my father told you to take care of me before he passed on!” he insisted. See why she thought he was the biggest walking embarrassment in the whole of Ezzek history? His own father didn’t believe he could take care of himself. And he had the gall to admit to it.

“And Big Sister Tarya has taken care of you for five years. Now that she is in trouble, you can take care of yourself,” she told him with sarcastic, saccharine sweetness.

He pointed at her with an accusing finger. “You ungrateful wench! I just knew Father should have never bothered with you. I told him so! If it weren’t for you, Father might have put more effort in teaching me and—”

Tarya interrupted, her temper ablaze, she spoke icily. “Don’t put the blame on me for your own laziness. You never bothered to learn. It was Vaile who took me in. I owe your father, but I certainly owe you nothing.”

With that said, she made for the door to leave.

He quickly stopped her with a hand on a shoulder. “Oh, come on,” he said apologetically, quickly changing tact as he realized that his only source of income was going to walk out on him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please stay, all right? Just do the last one, and I promise I won’t ask anymore from you.”

That did nothing to alleviate Tarya’s anger. She brushed his arm from her shoulder and asked acerbically, “The last time?”

He nodded, looking at her pleadingly.

“Wasn’t that what you said the last time? In fact,” she poked at his chest, “You just said that this time. Which was why I went out and tried to steal from that man.”

“Aw, come on, Tarya. My father treated you like his own daughter.”

“No,” she told him resolutely. “It’s too dangerous. I told you a long time ago that this is getting too dangerous. And it’s my head on the line, not yours.”

“Come on, you say it as though I don’t help out.”

“You just but have to distract the guards’ attention. I’m the one who does the dirty work. The one who shall hang from the city gates if caught.”

“Tarya,” he said, almost whining now.

“Couldn’t you go out and earn your own living?” she said stubbornly.

“You know I’m no good at stealing.”

“Then find other types of work. Go and learn a trade. Be a baker or a blacksmith.”

“Aw, come on. Those will take years to learn. Besides, I’m no good at these types of work either.”

Tarya snorted. “Yes, I can believe that you’re a good-for-nothing.”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “Say you’ll stay.”

It was always at such times that Tarya wondered how a sturdy man like Vaile could have fathered a son like Fenril. He was lazy, stupid and grossly embarrassing, nothing like the teacher whom she loved and respected. “Fenril, my life is in danger. The guards would be on the lookout for me and I could be hanging in the quadrangle with my limbs missing tomorrow if I don’t get out of this city.”

He shook his head. “You can hide a while. In a few weeks, it would be safe once more.”

“For the life of Earth, Fenril!” Tarya exclaimed, frustrated. “Would you use your addled brain for once and think? The King’s favorite sport is killing thieves like us. The guards would be on the hunt. Do you truly believe that they will leave me alone if I remain in this city? The very city where the mad King lives? If you think that, you’re madder than he is!”

He still looked confused so Tarya decided to spell it out clearly for him. “By tomorrow, my face could be on posters all over the city with a prize on my head.”

Understanding finally dawned in his eyes. “Oh.”

“I’m leaving.” And she turned and left.

---------------

In the darkness, Tarya gathered her belongings into a cloth sack. She had been planning to leave Athel for some time. The city was too dangerous to remain. Except for her sense of obligation towards Vaile to upkeep the promise she’d made, she wouldn’t have stayed as long as she had.

But times had changed since she’d made her promise to Vaile. A year after Vaile’s burial, King Denaris died and the Crown Prince took over the throne. The story went that an unwitting pickpocket had stolen from a delegate of the Reekans that attended the prince’s coronation. Naturally, the newly crowned king offered them justice. Justice was served in an arena with thousands of spectators. There, the poor, unwitting fellow was flogged cruelly, split at the stomach so that his internal organs spilled out and finally hanged at the city gates until the body became but a carcass of bones. Apparently, the King enjoyed the spectacle so much, he made it a monthly affair. Thieves and pickpockets like herself had been hard-hit with the new king’s implemented laws and punishments. The general public was of course elated with the king’s stand on thievery. As for the Reekan delegate, he was killed in battle barely a year later by one of Ezzek’s own soldiers, after the king decided he wanted the northern lands to add to his already vast empire.

As to all stories, there was another side to it. The other story went that the King was a bloodthirsty sadist who had murdered his own father with sorcery to attain the throne. The demons that had assisted in his father’s murder naturally wanted payment for the help, which was why the King had to resort to such drastic punishments to satisfy the demons. The numerous wars that were fought since the king’s ascension to the throne was also yet another bid to spill more blood for the demons’ appetites. Of course, the latter story was only talked about amongst the people secretively and privately. No one wanted to go against the demon-possessed king and his demons.

Demon-possessed or not, as far as Tarya was concerned, the new king had been nothing good. But before his reign, life had been good. So good. Vaile had taught her, “Never take more than necessary. And only steal from the rich. Even thieves have a set of code of honor.” Tarya followed that code for all but a few months after Vaile’s death, before she tired of Fenril’s constant harassing that she went out and stole more often. In those days, money flowed freely. Twenty pouches taken in a day were common. Tarya had to admit that greed had touched her. No longer did she have to live thriftily as Vaile had taught her, but she would spend on luxurious meals and ………clothes. The first dress that Tarya put on came only when she reached sixteen. The dress fitted her curves, showing off a figure she never even knew she had. Looking at herself in a mirror she’d purchased, vanity waved and introduced itself to her. No longer did she wear passed-me-down clothes from Fenril whenever she marketed. Instead, dresses and ribbons replaced the baggy and manly clothes. She was thrilled and in love with her newfound self. On occasions, she even wore the feminine clothes when she went out to steal. Who would expect a well-dressed woman a thief?

Today had been such an occasion and this newfound self would apparently be the death of her. The feminine clothes did nothing to hide her face. The cap that she wore atop her head when she went out and stole were replaced with elaborate hairclips that certainly did nothing for disguise. Stupid, stupid, she scolded herself as she packed. How could she have so quickly thrown aside the lessons taught by Vaile?

Suddenly, a scene came back vividly to her. She was just seven. Her forehead was furrowed, as she concentrated on taking an orange from the center of a pile of fruits. She had to ensure that the pile didn’t topple over in the process.

“You have to be nimble and swift,” Vaile told her. “And patient. Fingers swift, but nimble.” Then he snatched the orange so quickly with one hand, she didn’t catch the motion. But the pile of fruits didn’t topple. He passed her the orange, and she took it with her small fingers. “It’d be the same when you steal. Remember the four most important lessons, Tarya. Swift but nimble, vigilant and astute.”

Now, the lesson echoed in her mind. But it was too late.

After the new king took over, the excessive lifestyles Tarya and Fenril were used to soon declined. The guards were too vigilant. Moves were difficult to make and it was overall too taxing and nerve wrecking. How many times had she made a move when the word, “Thief!” was shouted? Each time, she was certain she was caught before the real offender was lassoed in and whipped by the guards .The next day, the market would be abuzz with news of the newly hung culprit.

Tying a tight knot to form a bag around her possessions, she was ready to go. She had changed into her disguise of the old—a man’s clothing of shirt and breeches so that she looked nothing like a woman, but more of a boy. A worn out cap two shades paler than her own brown hair sat atop her head, her long hair tucked underneath it. This time, lesson learnt, she packed only men’s clothing. She was going to have to pretend to be a man if she hoped to be able to survive this ordeal. Only one last thing remained. Over the years, especially the year of the plenty between Vaile’s death and the new king’s reign, she had managed to accumulate some money and precious jewels. The funds would enable her to set up a shop and acquire a decent place to live in, in whatever town or city she did finally decide to settle down.

The money was kept inside a wall behind a small side table by her bed. She always termed the hiding place ‘her getaway funds’ . Now, she crept to it for the last time, not to add but to remove its contents. She squatted, her hand dislodging a brick of the wall behind which all her savings lay, when the door of her room crashed open suddenly.

She whipped her head around. The silhouettes of two city guards were framed in the doorway. Before she could even comprehend her situation, spears were thrust in her direction and more guards had poured into the room.

Then Fenril was suddenly there, amidst the heavily armored guards.

One of them, a stout man with thin lips, spoke, “Is that she?”

Fenril replied, “Yes.”