by Tye Tivillus
Chapter 7: Meeting Magic Head-On
The next morning Will shook him awake again. Bo cracked his eyes open sleepily.
'Bo wake up, Johan's gone missing!' The teen's mind quickly reminded him what had happened last night and Bo leapt off his bed roll as though he'd been bitten by ants, suddenly very much awake. Although it was well before breakfast, all of the slaves were awake, and talking anxiously amongst themselves. Bo drew Will to one side, telling him what had happened last night, and relating things he had heard that indicated other slaves were going missing. Will appeared thoughtful. 'Bo, don't talk to anyone about this okay? Let me just find out more about it first.' Uneasily Bo promised that he would say nothing. To keep himself occupied he performed the exercises Alexander had told him to do, going over them again and again until the door was unlocked, and the spooked slaves could flee their room.
Chatter over breakfast was minimal, especially because Johan was missing, and Will was flitting from table to table, talking with a large number of people. Bo could hear frightened conversations about ghosts stealing slaves away furtively hissed by young slaves that looked like they hadn't slept for days. At the laundry Bo worked silently, not engaging in the lively conversations around him. The rain had stopped, although clouds still hung threateningly in the sky. Rumours were going around that The King had postponed peace talks to go on another hunt, and that the delegates from the desert were furious. The upshot of The King leaving, however, was that many of his nobles had gone with him, making the load of dirty clothes easier to manage. They still worked through lunch, but everyone was finished well before any other group of slaves, and they were quickly let off. Some returned to their quarters while others went in search of food. Bo hurried to the armoury. He had started to worry that Alexander might have disappeared like the slaves. There were still fighters practising in the courtyard, and to Bo's immense relief, Alexander was leading them with his usual enthusiasm. The dark skinned teen slipped into the armoury and began polishing. After a good hour or so, Alexander came in with a few extra weapons in need of some sparkles. The weapon master spent some time sharpening a few of the more serious weapons, and straightening practice blades that had been warped too far out of shape by the vigorous sparring matches between fighters earlier that day, for all that they were blunted.
'Bo. Haff you heard people go missink?' Alexander asked, almost casually. Bo froze. Will had said not to talk about it to anyone. He was glad he wasn't facing the weapons master or Alexander would surely have been able to read the answer in Bo's face.
'I ah – No Sir.'
'Iz lie. Get better at lying,' grunted Alexander dismissively. Bo bit his lip anxiously. After a moment or two Alexander continued, 'Iz good you are quviet about thiz, but not lie to me. You get good information, you tell me, yez?' Bo mumbled an apology, and the work continued without further conversation.
Bo finished his polishing while the sun was still setting. Finding himself with free time, something that hadn't occurred since his first day, he hurried away from Alexander before the weapons master could think of a way to fill it. More than anything, Bo wanted to spend some time finding out more about the mysterious abductors, even though both Will and Alexander had advised him to stay quiet. He had a horrible fear creeping over him that Allie was already numbered among the missing, and he desperately wanted to know one way or another. As if sensing his intention there was a shout as Bo crossed the courtyard.
'Oi Bo!' Bo glanced around to see Will waving him over. With a sigh, the dark skinned teen trotted over to his friend. Will grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest doorway. 'Bo please could you take over serving for me tonight? Please?' Bo started to protest, but Will had his begging expression on. It was hard to say no to that face. 'You know those mages are driving me crazy! An I promised someone I'd go see em sometime this week at that spot we discussed once or twice. Yeh can't leave a lady hanging you know?' Bo sighed heavily. He could practically see his free time vanishing like smoke in a net. Will took this as a 'yes' patting Bo heartily on his shoulder. 'Thanks! I owe you one!' The white haired slave practically skipped away, before Bo could change his mind.
'Wait Will!' called Bo suddenly remembering that brassers weren't allowed upstairs. Will either couldn't hear him or refused to listen. Either way, he left Bo to trudge uncertainly to the kitchens.
The kitchens were warm and bright, as the magic globes had already turned on for the evening. It was filled with an array of silver collar slaves, and one or two of the gold bangled slaves. Bo tried not to stare too much at the latter, although he couldn't help peering curiously in their direction every now and then. Everyone preparing food wore white clothes. Bo recognised the clothes with a hint of reproach - often they came into the laundry spattered with food stains that were very difficult to remove. Before he could get too far into the kitchen a silver collar slave stopped him, giving him a look up and down. They had blonde hair, like Bo, but a much lighter skin tone. They were also a girl. This girl's hair was very frizzy and it was held back tightly by a band. Over the top of her head she wore a net. Her hazel eyes met Bo's green ones, and her full lips pursed in mild disapproval.
'You're here to replace Will?' before Bo could answer the girl rolled her eyes and shoved a white apron into Bo's arms. 'put it on, you have plates to take upstairs. Don't worry you won't get into trouble this time, but if you see Master Sir, you should probably run and hide.' she grinned evilly and Bo swallowed, anxiety bubbling up in his stomach. He fumbled the apron, as the girl instructed him about how to use the food trolley, and where to find the rooms of the desert mages. The directions were complex and Bo had to mutter them under his breath in an attempt to remember them.
The trolley with the meals on it had one wheel that never seemed to go in the right direction, making it uncontrollable, and a pain to push, but it was better than running back and forth from the kitchens with food. Bo had no doubt that Will would have been scooting up and down the halls at breakneck speeds when he was serving. No doubt the white haired slave had mastered the contrary trolleys and could ride them like steeds to his destination, mowing down those who happened to get in his way. Bo on the other hand struggled to get it half a pace without the trolley becoming entangled in a floor rug, ensnared by a door frame, or almost magnetically attracted to a wall. He had to admit, however, that he was excited about seeing the desert mages up close, and hoped they were just as talkative as Will had claimed. If he was going to lose his free time, he may as well make the most of it.
The first room he came to contained a woman. He knocked as he had been told to, and the door was quickly opened to reveal a dark skinned woman who was a good five or ten years older than Bo, but she wore her age well. She was taller than the boy by half a hand, and her hair was short and wavy. Bo could smell cinnamon and another unidentifiable spicy scents wafting on the air. The woman smiled kindly at Bo, thanking him in a rich voice for the delivery. Bo stammered something in reply, something incoherent. Whatever he'd been expecting after all of Will's complaints, this was not it.
'Also I have one of my friends in here. She is from the room two doors down. Would you mind if she took her meal in here?' The woman lingered over the word 'friend' as though it had been diplomatically chosen over a number of other synonyms. Bo blinked.
'O-of course M'am.' he stuttered, not sure how to address the woman. She grinned at the teen widely, displaying a large number of white, squarish teeth, and holding out an unusually strong looking right hand. Bo wasn't quite sure what to do with it, and the woman laughed at his confusion.
'You clasp my hand with yours and we shake. It is a greeting where I am from.' Bo nervously held out his right hand, and she clasped it in a firm grip, giving it a few shakes up and down.
'Stop tormenting the poor boy Arty.' called a more feminine voice from inside the room. Bo quickly extracted his hand from the woman's and turned back to his cart which was making the most of Bo's distraction, trying to make a quic
k escape. With a yelp of dismay he lunged after the contrary contraption before it could gather too much speed. Arty disappeared into the room and came back to take the second platter from Bo. Thanking him again, she bowed courteously before closing the door.
Bo wondered what Will's trouble was. Clearly not all of the desert mages were as he painted them to be. Feeling less anxious, Bo came to the second door. He knocked lightly as he had been told and waited for the order to come in. After a moment or two he knocked again, but still there was no reply. In cases like this he had been instructed to leave the food in the person's room for when they returned. If they were asleep, he was not to wake them. Glaring at the trolly as if to warn it to stay put, Bo cautiously opened the door. He hadn't gotten to see the inside of Arty's room, but it was probably much the same as this one, he suspected.
There was a large impressive bed in one corner, a personal hearth and a number of magic lighting globes that didn't shine too brightly, meaning that the soft warm light was well dispersed throughout the room. On the floor there was a large rug that was woven with a number of muted hues. Near the door there was a table that was covered in papers. Uncertainly Bo moved closer to it. He was either going to have to place the food on the bed, or move some of the papers to make room for the food. As he moved closer to the hearth, he could see the occupant of the room had fallen asleep in one of the large lounge chairs. It was the black haired man who had swallowed a mouthful of vinegar due to Will, and who had lost four silver coins to Master Sir. He had clearly fallen asleep over some reading, as in his lap there sat a heavy looking tome. The man's head was tilted back at an awkward angle and his mouth hung slightly open. His breathing was deep and regular, indicating that he had been asleep for some time. Carefully, Bo moved some of the papers aside with one hand while the other balanced the plate of food. The plates on the tray rattled as he moved. He tried to keep the platter steady but it was impossible to do so with one hand. There was a mumble as the sleeper was disturbed.
'Ah sorry s--' Bo began anxiously, realising he'd accidentally woken up the man. Before he could finish his sentence, the man's eyes flew open and there was a rush of wind in the small room. Papers flew everywhere, and the large rug that was on the floor threw itself at Bo. The fire in the hearth flared to life, fed by a sudden rush of oxygen, and the rug slammed into the unfortunate brasser, driving him backward and into the wall. There was a crash as the platter he'd been holding so precariously was knocked out of his hand, and the food spilled all over the floor. The teen's head cracked against the stones and he was knocked senseless.
'He was looking through my papers, and he didn't set off the alarm I had set on the door!' said a voice. It was male, and angry. Bo groaned. He tried to reach for his head which ached horribly but found his limbs to be leaden and beyond his immediate control. Strong hands pulled him into a sitting position. When he opened his eyes, things were confusing. He didn't immediately recall what he'd been doing or where he was, but there was a familiar face staring at him in a concerned way.
'Are you okay boy?' Bo groaned again,
'I think I'm gonna puke.' he answered honestly, although the words came out too mumbled to be coherent. He could feel saliva gathering swiftly in his mouth that tasted metalic, a sure indication that he was about to throw up. Looking away from the face the teen slumped sideways and retched. Having had no lunch, however, there was little other than bile that came up. He remembered distinctly thinking that the bile did actually taste a lot like breakfast had, but the thought was only one of many unrelated ones to run through his mind. A hand cupped itself around his face bringing his head up again. A light was shone in his eyes, leaving bright spots.
'Did you have to be so harsh?' demanded Arty angrily. Bo spat to get the taste of bile out of his mouth, before tucking his head between his knees. Although it was still aching, and he felt dizzy, he had regained some control of his limbs and voice.
'M sorry I woke you up sir.' he mumbled. It seemed that no one had heard him as the male mage was still arguing with Arty, while a red haired woman was doing something by the hearth.
Looking at the room started making Bo feel sick again so he resumed his former position, which seemed to help. Tentatively he explored the lump on his head with his fingers. There was some wetness – possibly blood, but it had almost dried. Someone pried his hand away from the wound.
'Don't touch it. Here drink this.' The drink was warm – not too hot to sip but too hot to drink quickly. It had been prepared by a red haired woman. As Bo took a sip obediently from the cup she added, 'it isn't spelled, so it might be a little bitter.' Bo laughed. For some reason he couldn't seem to stop himself. It seemed so funny that the woman was concerned about her brew being bitter when all he ever seemed to eat was as bitter and unpalatable as vomit. The drink itself was bitter with the smallest scent of mint to it, but in a moderately pleasant way. It also helped wash away the taste of the bile. Bo could feel it clearing his head. If nothing else his laughter was enough to stop the argument going on between the other two people. Arty turned her back on the black haired mage and knelt to look at Bo.
'Are you okay boy? What is your name?'
'Bo Gart, Miss.' The woman dead panned, but it was clear that Bo wasn't lying.
'That's an interesting, er, name. Did your parents have a sense of humour?'
'No Miss, everyone has a name like that where I come from.' Bo took a deep breath to stretch his cramped lungs, before going into detail about the naming customs of The Gutter. In truth it had all started with a popular myth, where the trickster god stole the wealth of the Father god, but he had been caught by the god of war - Strife. Strife had asked the trickster god his name, and as a joke the trickster replied 'No Body'. Strife took him to the Father of all gods, claiming No Body had stolen the treasure. Of course he was laughed at and cast out of the throne room. Strife was so angry at the trick that had been played that he cursed all of those who worshipped the trickster god, saying their money would be stolen from them until they paid back the gods for the theft of the great treasure. Thus, everyone who worships the trickster god No Body were forced to take on a joke name of their own so that Strife would not be able to find them.
After Bo had finished the explanation, his mug was also dry, and he was helped to his feet. He eyed the rug that was lying in a pile nearby distrustfully.
'Should we call someone to take you to the infirmary?' Asked the red haired woman. Bo's eyes opened wide,
'Please don't! I'm not supposed to be up here, I was just covering fer my mate W- uh … for my friend.'
'I see,' said Arty, pursing her lips and standing up. She glared at the man who was managing to both look sheepish and defiant, 'I'm afraid you caught Erasmus here by surprise. I'm sorry about your head, but it looks like you'll be alright.'
'It's me who should be apologising.' said Bo solemnly, feeling guilty that the desert people were treating him so well when he had messed everything up. He turned to the man called Erasmus. 'I'm sorry I woke you up Mister Erasmus. I know it's against the rules' Bo bowed stiffly to the man who said nothing. He had his arms crossed over his chest. Before Bo could leave, Erasmus stuck out one tanned hand in his direction. Despite Erasmus' youth the hand was calloused like that of a worker. Being now briefed on this custom, Bo responded in kind, grasping the man's hand firmly with his own. They shook hands,
'We got off to a bad start. I'm Erasmus – Just Erasmus. I thought you had come to steal my papers, not to serve me dinner, I'm sorry I overreacted.' Bo looked at the table to see that the papers were packed away, and that Erasmus' dinner stood unharmed on the wooden surface. The teen gaped in surprise, causing Erasmus to grin widely despite the situation. 'I fixed it up with magic. Terribly convenient isn't it?' Arty sighed, shunting Bo out of the room,
'Get out boy before he talks your ear off bragging about just how he magicked his dinner back into the plates.' Bo allowed himself to be ushered out of the room by the two women. He looked at his car
t – it was empty – before turning a questioning gaze on Arty and her partner. The red haired one was grinning,
'I delivered the rest while you were out cold.' She explained. Bo thanked her, hurrying back with his cart the way he'd come. It was much easier to handle without the burden of so much food. He worried about how long he'd been unconscious for, especially when he reached the kitchen to find that the fires were low and there were very few people in attendance. Quietly, Bo put the trolley back where he had found it, sneaking out before he could get caught and punished.
Hurrying back to the compound, the teen was distressed to find the doors locked. No doubt when the door was opened in the morning, and they saw he was missing, he would be hunted down and beaten for staying out at night. The teen had little time to get worked up about this, however, as there was the scuffling sound of footsteps, and Bo shrank back into the shadows of a nearby doorway. A group of people shrouded in darkness walked steadily past. The light of the moon illuminated the halls very dimly, but it was enough that Bo could see one of them carried a human sized sack over one shoulder. Swallowing his apprehension, the boy started to trail them. Bo knew what he was doing was stupid, and foolhardy, but he was locked out of his own room, and he felt bad about letting Johan be taken without a fight. They wove through the slave compound, apparently happy with just one abductee. After a few turns, they reached the entrance to the compound. The light was much stronger there and Bo could see them more clearly. He recognised none of them. The one who was carrying the slave was large and thickset. His lower jaw protruded further than his upper jaw and he had thick heavy brows that cast his eyes into shadow, giving him an eternal expression of moronic anger. One of the others was a woman with skin that was darker even than Bo's. The light that shone from the moon reflected in her eyes, which shone an unnatural yellow-gold hue. Her hair was cut short like a warrior's and lithe muscles showed clearly in the halflight as she moved, graceful as a cat. The last of the group was shorter than the other two, and was hidden inside a dark green cloak. He handed the woman a bag that clinked invitingly.
'Don't forget Jayne's payment. We wouldn't want to disrespect our honourable business partners now, would we?' The woman said nothing, but ran off without making so much as a sound. Without waiting for her to return, the cloaked man and the giant with the sack turned and headed in the direction of the castle. Bo began to creep after them, his curiosity practically brimming over. He followed them into the castle, which was better lit than the courtyard and slave quarters, sticking to the shadows. The group looked about them guiltily before pulling aside a hanging rug, and entering a secret passage beyond. The teen was about to follow them when a hand clamped down over his mouth. Struggling furiously, he was dragged backwards and into a doorway, where yet another strong hand grabbed his arms pinning them to his side and ceasing his movement. From beyond the doorway there was a light whisper of fabric as the woman, who was left to catch up, appeared. She glanced about suspiciously, and Bo froze as her eyes roved over him. Apparently satisfied, she cautiously followed the other two through the wall hanging. If Bo had still been following the group, he would have certainly been seen by the woman, and he doubted she would have given him a smile and a hand shake.
'Vhat you do outzide room. Iz lockup time, yez?'
Bo's muscles relaxed as soon as he heard Alexander's voice. When Alexander was sure that there would be no trouble he released the teen, and Bo turned, surprised to see the wildly bearded man.
'I got locked out, so I was going to follow 'em, 'cause last night they took summun from my room.' whispered Bo. Alexander looked like he wished he had brought his whipstick with which to cane the teen. Instead he slapped him across the face with an open palm.
'Iz not game. Eef these find you followink, they vill kill you, stupid boy,' growled Alexander. 'Now I haff loose zis trail. Muzt let them takink anosser child tomorrow.' He sounded angry. Without further hesitation, he grabbed Bo by the ear and led him back to the slave compound. Reaching the correct room, he rifled about in his pant pocket, before pulling out a simple looking key. It fitted into the lock, easily opening the door. The irate weapons master practically hurled Bo back into the room, closing the door behind the teen and locking it. Glumly Bo slunk his way over to a bedroll, feeling guilty at having earned Alexander's ire. With thoughts of desert mages, and Alexander, and strange midnight prowlers, it was difficult for the teen to get to sleep.
