by James Evans
“We should leave this city while we still can. Please, Darek, let’s just go. We could go along the coast, maybe be in the next town by tomorrow evening.”
“But what’s the point? It’d be even harder to find marks in a smaller town and there would be less places to hide. We’d get pinched and hanged for sure, if we didn’t starve first.”
They’d had this argument a dozen times or more and it always ended the same way. Floost gave up and went back to watching the streets.
“We’ll need to find some money, then. And maybe we should move on again, try to get further from the Flank Siders’ territory so we don’t keep runnin’ into their enforcers.”
“Yeah, ok. Maybe we could try the other side of the river. Might be better to pay the North End gang than risk the Flank Siders getting us again.” They both stared across the river at the buildings lining the eastern bank. They were pretty much the same as the buildings on this side of the river.
“Pack up now or wait for dusk?” asked Darek.
There was less chance of being seen if they waited till dusk but moving at night had its own risks, especially near the docks. The city might be safe for traders and merchants with their bodyguards and tame watchmen but for homeless youths it was another story.
“Let’s go now - less chance of being stopped on the bridge if we cross during the day amongst the crowds, and it’ll be easier to find a safe place to sleep.” She pulled herself away from the parapet and gathered her meagre possessions, wrapping them in a small blanket that she bound with string and slung around her shoulders. Darek was doing the same, pulling his spare shirt from under the edge of the roof and wrapping it in his own threadbare blanket.
Darek climbed back over the wall and disappeared. Floost knelt for a few seconds, looking around the rooftop, checking that they had left behind nothing of value, then she too pulled herself over the bricks and dropped down onto the next roof. They crept around the edge of the roof, just inside the low parapet, to the next building, an inn with a poorly maintained thatch roof. They wriggled through the gap in the thatch into the roof space of the inn and slid quietly downstairs until they emerged into the hayloft above the inn’s stables.
“Hold on,” whispered Darek as Floost stepped out from the gloom, “let’s have a look at the bags on that saddle.”
“What? No! Please Darek, let it go.” But Darek was already lowering himself to the ground next to the stall. Floost shuffled around in the loft until she was near the door to the stable but she couldn’t see out.
“Darek, come on. There are people around.”
Darek shushed her and flapped his free hand in her direction, still rummaging through the bags.
“Empty, empty, empty.” He unbuckled the last pocket and stuck in his hand.
“Aha, what’s this?” He pulled out a wooden box about six inches long.
“Come on,” said Floost, lowering herself from the loft and peering through a gap in the stable door. She looked at Darek, who was stuffing the box into his blanket, then back through the crack in the door just as someone flipped the catch and pushed it open.
Floost yelped in surprise and stumbled backward into the stable as a youth, no older than her or Darek, came in carrying a bucket. They stared at each other for a moment, confusion showing on the stable boy’s face, then Darek pushed him hard from behind and Floost jumped to her feet. The boy stumbled forward and sprawled in the straw, dropping his bucket with a clatter, and Darek grabbed Floost’s hand, pulling her through the doorway. Floost jerked her hand free as soon as they were outside and latched the door closed behind them then followed Darek as he ran across the deserted yard.
They were almost at the gate when the door burst open and the stable boy yelled, “Hey!”.
Floost paused at the inn’s gate and looked at the boy in the doorway, covered in straw and dirt. She smiled sweetly at him then ran down the street after Darek, dodging between carts and horses as she made her way towards to the river. She caught up with Darek as he turned the corner of the street and they leant against the wall, breathing heavily. Then Darek sniggered.
“You should have seen your face when he opened that door!” Floost punched his arm.
“It wasn’t funny, you idiot!” she hissed, punching Darek’s arm again, “We almost got caught and then where would we have been, eh?”
“You worry too much. Come on, let’s get over the bridge and have some fun.”
Darek jumped back to avoid a third punch and then together they walked along the embankment toward the river’s main crossing point.
The bridge was a wonder of stone and iron, built by the Duke as a gift to his people and, famously, the only free crossing on the river. It spanned the river in five graceful arcs, carried by great islands of power-wrought stone and pillars of black iron.
Not that the Duke’s motives were entirely altruistic. High as it was, the bridge marked the furthest point that seagoing merchant vessels could travel up the Vensi. The banks of the river to the south of the bridge were covered in wharves where large merchant ships docked to unload. Their goods were taxed by the Duke’s customs officials before being carted into the city or loaded onto smaller river boats to continue their voyage north.
Floost and Darek stopped at the highest point of the central span and leant out to look down at the river itself. The surface teemed with boats of all shapes and sizes but the most numerous by far were the water taxis that carried the city’s wealthier denizens across the river. Only the poor, or those moving goods, crossed the bridge on foot.
A continuous stream of barges and cogs passed into the city from the north or headed out carrying goods and passengers upstream. To the south, the harbour was busy with seagoing ships.
Darek pointed out a large, squat vessel with four masts flying an unusual flag.
“Where do you think that one’s from? Never seen that flag before.”
“Dunno. It’s not Imperial, is it?”
“Nah, that’s an Imperial ship,” said Darek, pointing at a sleek three-masted ship, “maybe it’s from across the sea, or maybe it’s from the northern kingdoms, full of furs and iron and, and, er, other stuff they make in the north.”
“Yeah, or maybe it’s one of the Duke’s new warships, just waiting to defend us all from pirates and invaders.” They sniggered; stories of pirates and barbarian invaders were still told in the inns but there hadn’t been an attack on the city for as long as anyone could remember.
They stood a little longer, watching the ships, until someone cuffed Darek around the ear.
“What are you two doing here, eh? Go on, get moving,” said the watchman, giving Floost a shove. Darek stumbled backward away from the watchman and made an obscene gesture, then they both darted into the crowd as the watchman raised his fist.
They pushed through the crowds until they reached the other side of the bridge then made their way to the riverside and strode along the paved streets of the embankment away from the centre of town. This part of the city was unfamiliar to them and they spent a good couple of hours just wandering the streets, working out where the alleyways went and which buildings backed onto streets or warehouses or squares.
By mid-afternoon they were tired and hungry and ready to find somewhere to spend the night. Darek’s stolen box had turned out to be an empty pen case, good for scribes but worthless to street urchins.
As the sunlight disappeared from the narrow streets and the better inns began to light lamps at their doors to welcome visitors from the shadowed streets, even the alleys were starting to look tempting. Floost much preferred sleeping off the ground and out of sight but a narrow passageway or a sheltered door away from the main footpaths would do, at a pinch.
They doubled back down the street to an alley between a pair of warehouses, looking for a way up onto the roof. There was a lean-to halfway down the alley and a low building that might have somewhere they could hide for the night.
“This’ll do. We can find something be
tter tomorrow.”
Darek nodded and Floost jumped up onto a barrel to get a better look.
Then someone grabbed Floost’s belt and pulled her back down. She lost her grip on the roof and fell backwards to the floor. She stumbled onto the ground and cried out. A big red face with an ugly grin peered down at her.
“And where are you going, missy? Need somewhere to sleep?”
“Let her go!” shouted Darek, charging at the man holding Floost. It was a brave effort but slim fourteen-year-old boys weren’t much of a threat and the man just back-handed Darek across the face, sending him tumbling back to the alley floor.
“Get off me or I’ll scream!” said Floost, beating at the arm that held her.
“You’ll do what you’re told is what you’ll do, missy. No husband, no guardian? We can soon sort that out for you,” said the arm’s owner, “we’ll take you to Madame Duval, see what sort of price we can get, but maybe we’ll ‘ave a bit of fun first.”
Floost felt another hand grabbing at her waist then her chest. She kicked out and drew breath to scream but the man twisted her around and slapped her hard enough to make her ears ring.
“Grab that one, Pratek, we’ll take ‘em both to Madame Duval,” said the man who still held Floost. He looked from one to the other and laughed.
“Ha, twins! A nice bonus.”
Pratek grabbed Darek by the shirt and heaved him upright then pushed him forward to his mate, who slapped Darek across the face, knocking him back to the floor.
“I’m givin’ the orders now, and if you don’t want a good slapping you’ll do what I say. Stand up!”
Darek pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, blood running from his nose and lip. Floost kicked out again, beating at her captor with her fists and trying to bite his arm. He slapped her face, then again, and Floost subsided, all the fight knocked out of her. Then he took hold of Darek’s shirt and pulled him close.
“No more trouble,” he hissed, “or it’ll be your sister who gets slapped, understand?”
Darek nodded, trying to think through the fog in his head for a way out. They knew Madame Duval by reputation and hers were some of the hands into which he and Floost had very much wished to avoid falling. Darek struggled feebly but the man just shook him then turned toward the alley entrance, dragging the twins along with him.
Marrinek left The Crown after his meeting with Old Ned and wandered along the riverfront, heading back to The Jewel. He bought a meat pie from a stall next to a small shop selling minor charms and tools and stood for a couple of minutes looking at the displays. Then, still working his way through the pie, he continued on his way.
As he passed the entrance to an alleyway he was distracted by the sounds of an argument and he turned to see two men grappling with a couple of youths about half their size. One of the youths was bleeding - it looked like he’d been punched in the face - and the other was kicking and biting against her captor. Marrinek stopped walking and took another bite of his pie as he watched the struggle.
Maybe he should just walk away. Maybe he should let them learn from their mistakes. Maybe it would be better to pretend he hadn’t noticed, to walk on along the street, to concentrate on his own problems.
Then he sighed and cursed himself. Where would he have been, all those years ago, without a little help when he had needed it? He sighed and rolled his head from side to side, loosening the muscles in his neck, then strolled into the alleyway.
“Do you need a hand?” he asked in Gheel, flicking away the last of the pie crust and licking his fingers.
The nearer man, the one not holding either of the two youths - although now Marrinek looked more closely he was sure that they couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen - seemed to notice him for the first time.
“Nah mate, just a couple of runaways. We’ve got this under control.”
Marrinek took another step into the alley and moved his staff so that he held it in both hands. He tried to keep things casual, non-threatening.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really talking to you.”
He looked past the man at the two youths - children really.
“They don’t look like runaways to me, except maybe from you and your idiot partner.”
He looked straight at the first man.
“Why don’t we keep this friendly. Let them go, leave now, and we’ll say no more about it.”
The man just gaped at him but his partner spoke past him.
“Fuck off, friend, or we’ll gut you ’n leave you for the rats.”
The first man smiled and reached into the small of his back, pulling out a long knife and waving it toward Marrinek.
“Or maybe we’ll gut you anyway, just for the fun of it.” He leapt forward, swinging wildly, but Marrinek had half expected some sort of attack and was already moving, knocking the knife away with his staff.
The would-be kidnapper’s momentum carried him forward, off balance, and Marrinek stepped around him and struck him on the back of the knee. The man cried out as his leg gave way and he fell to his hands and knees, dropping the knife. Marrinek planted a boot on the man’s upturned backside and shoved him down into the mud of the alley, then kicked him in the face as he struggled to get up. The man collapsed and lay still.
His partner backed down the alleyway dragging Floost and Darek with him as Marrinek turned to face him.
“Let them go,” Marrinek said quietly. The man backed away, still clutching Floost and Darek by their collars, then he pushed them toward Marrinek and ran off down the alley.
“Are you hurt?” Darek asked Floost, holding her shoulders. She was shaking and sobbing as Darek hugged her.
“We’re fine,” he whispered, “don’t worry.”
Marrinek relaxed, grounding his staff.
“We should probably leave. He might have more friends, somewhere.”
Darek looked at Marrinek over Floost’s shoulder.
“Thank you, sir. Spare some coin for a hot meal?”
Marrinek raised an eyebrow then looked down at the man on the ground, still prone on the alley floor.
“I’m sure this fellow would be happy to make a contribution. See if he has a purse.”
Darek let go of Floost and bent over the unconscious man. He patted the man’s belt then, with Floost’s help, rolled him onto his back. From the pockets inside the unconscious man’s coat he pulled a small purse and two more knives.
“You want these?” he said, offering the knives to Marrinek.
“No, I have enough knives.”
Darek threw the blades into the alley and pocketed the purse.
“Time to go,” said Marrinek, “good luck.”
He held out his hand and Darek shook it, nervously. Floost just backed away a little, still shaking. Marrinek stood for a few more seconds, uncertain, then he made a decision. Friends and allies, eh? Well, maybe he could start small.
“I have a room at The Jewel. Do you need somewhere to sleep?”
Darek cocked his head to one side then shook it.
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine on our own. We just need to...” he shut up as Floost spoke over him.
“Thank you, sir, any night we don’t have to sleep on the streets is a gift we can’t refuse,” she said, smiling at Marrinek. Then she hissed at Darek when he tried to object.
“They’ll be looking for us, won’t they. At least with him we’ll be off the street.”
Darek shook his head but the look on Floost’s face told him he’d already lost the argument.
“Right, but don’t you try anything, mister. I don’t trust you and I’ll be watching,” warned Darek, puffing himself up to seem as tall as possible.
Marrinek held up his free hand and smiled.
“It’s a deal. Food, shelter and a floor to sleep on. That’s all. It’s this way.”
He turned and walked out of the alley back onto the street, waiting to see if they would follow him, then he led them around the corner to The Jewel.
&nb
sp; CHAPTER TEN
DEPUTY GOVERNOR CURTEYS stood at the prow of the Lady Jessica watching Heberon harbour as the ship drew steadily nearer. She loved to travel by sea, to feel the roll of the deck, the wind in her hair and the sun on her face as the ship cut through the waves and an unexpected trip to the mainland, however unpleasant the task, was an opportunity to be savoured.
“We’ve been lucky with the wind and the tide,” said Captain Warde, moving to stand beside her at the rail, “we’ll be in the harbour quite soon - well before dusk.”
Curteys nodded her understanding but didn’t take her eyes from the harbour walls and the sight of manoeuvring vessels. There was an Imperial merchant ship leaving the harbour, sitting low in the water and raising sail as she pulled away from the walls, turning east to head toward the heart of the Empire. A second merchantman was heading into the harbour, dropping sails as she turned to dock, her crew moving quickly across the decks and through the rigging.
“Looks busy,” said Warde, as the Lady Jessica approached the harbour mouth, “so we may not be able to tie-up at the wharf. We’ll lower the dinghy so that you don’t have to wait.”
She looked at Curteys and nodded her head.
“Yes, the dingy. You don’t seem to be in a waiting kind of mood.”
Curteys glanced over at Warde before looking back at the merchant ship that had slipped into the harbour ahead of them.
“No, I’m not. The dinghy it will have to be, as soon as you’re ready.”
Much as she loved the sea, Curteys also loved towns and the feeling of life that came from being around hundreds or thousands of people. Heberon was small with only a thousand or so permanent residents but the docks and harbour were buzzing as ships came and went and the continuous bustle gave the town a huge sense of life. After four months at Ankeron West even a small town like Heberon felt like a metropolis and Curteys leapt eagerly from the dinghy of the Lady Jessica onto the steps at the side of the harbour, closely followed by her escorts.
They made their way quickly through the town toward Government House. The streets were busy and the two soldiers had to push their way through the crowds, navigating around stalls, pack animals, people and carts and occasionally shoving their way through when there was no other option. By the time they reached the steps of Government House, the early evening sun was falling on crowds that were turning their thoughts from struggle and work to leisure and pleasure and the taverns were beginning to fill.
