The Almost King

by Lucy Saxon

  ‘So they tell me. Now come on, let’s get you some food before the dinner shift ends, and then you can get washed up.’

  7

  The Northern tunnel passed in a blur of stone walls and dim lamps, the monotony only broken by an overnight stay in the rest stop.

  His first two days out of the tunnels took him through several small villages. The Goddess was smiling on him, he thought, allowing him to get so many free meals as he passed through.

  It took just under a week of travelling before the villages started becoming towns; he was getting close to the city of Syvana. Suddenly, a man passing through on a horse was an oddity instead of the norm, and he found himself interrogated almost everywhere he went, particularly after his bruises started to turn an ugly purple-green as they healed. He almost wished he’d stayed in the country; at least there the people were more welcoming to travellers. Closer to the city, everyone treated him with the same regard one might treat a particularly irritating tourist. He hoped the people in Syvana itself weren’t of the same mindset. Aleks kept his head down and his eyes alert for guards, never truly letting himself relax. He hadn’t yet dared take the journal he’d stolen out from his coat pocket; it was safest there, and he dreaded to think what would happen if someone found him with it.

  He first saw Syvana from the clifftop, and it took his breath away. Rensav had nothing on the city in the North. It wasn’t much to look at, truthfully; the buildings were all rather uniform, low and grey and sturdy enough to withstand the harshest storms. But they sprawled out for miles and miles in their neat rows, and the shipyard sent his blood pumping just that little bit faster, its beautiful ships docked or rising into the sky like gigantic birds, catching the nearest updraught and soaring off into the clouds.

  Unsurprisingly, the city was guarded, with straight-backed soldiers in blue uniforms and white caps visible even in the dimming light. Aleks cursed as he watched them stop another traveller, asking for documents and demanding an entry tax. Of course, for security purposes they would need official documents from everyone who wanted to get into the city. His documents were currently somewhere in Rensav; they too had been taken from his saddlebag when he’d enlisted. And if they went to check the records, they’d find out he was a wanted man.

  He turned Quicksilver away from the main path, taking to the grass in the hope of finding a side entrance he could slip through. It wasn’t until he was almost at the cliff line that he saw it; a dirt path that passed by the shipyard, clearly used by the workers. It was out of the way enough that anyone coming in from the main road wouldn’t see it; Aleks would bet it was only used by locals. He turned towards it, keeping Quicksilver at a walk.

  Despite the late hour, the brightly lit streets were bustling with people. The city was amazing! Technology the likes of which he’d never seen before seemed to be taken as standard; the newscast screens were still on, and between news updates from all over the world there was footage of extraordinary circus acts, fire jugglers and ballet dancers and trapeze artists performing for the cameras. Aleks had heard rumours that the newscasts in the cities were being used for more than just news, but the entertainment casts didn’t reach as far as his village – they only had one newscast screen, in the corner of the tavern, where it went ignored for most days of the year, barring international disasters. Villagers had no use for the news of the cities.

  The trams were gleaming machines, trailing faint plumes of purple smoke as they rolled smoothly through the city, the tracks clearly marked on the streets so that no one was hit. Strange automated carriages piled high with goods and cargo were pulled not by horses, but by people, who guided the machines as they propelled themselves along. No wonder they seemed to have very little use for working animals in the city.

  As much as Aleks would have liked to stay and explore, he knew he had to find a place to sleep for the night. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to an elderly gentleman. ‘I don’t suppose you know of a place with stables, where I could stay the night? I just arrived in the city.’

  The man eyed him, a shrewd expression half-masked by a bushy moustache and a thick fur cap. ‘There’s an inn about three streets over. They still have a couple of stables, if memory serves. Food’s not bad either,’ he replied with a sharp Northern accent, pointing over his shoulder.

  Aleks grinned. ‘Many thanks, sir.’ With a quick bow, he turned in the direction the man was pointing. The inn was, like everything else in the city, well lit, proudly proclaiming itself to be The Brass Compass in wrought iron letters that melted into an intricate design of cogs and gears framing the door. There was a hitching rail outside, and Aleks hesitantly tied Quicksilver to it, wary of leaving his horse alone so late in an unfamiliar city. He reassured himself that it would be easy to track Quicksilver down if anyone tried to steal him, as he was the only horse he’d seen since arriving. Aleks entered the inn, pulling his cap from his head.

  His senses were immediately hit with the familiar pub smell of good food and good ale, and it brought a smile to his lips as he made a beeline for the bar. A tall man with greying black hair and a beard to match was pulling pints with ease, while a smiling brunette woman worked the other end, her elbows propped on the bar as she chatted with some of the patrons.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ Aleks called, voice barely audible over the chatter of a busy evening. ‘Have you any free rooms?’

  ‘Aye, lad, I’ve a couple. You wanting a night or longer?’ the landlord asked.

  ‘Longer, if you’ll have me. I just got in. I’ve travelled from out West and I’m looking to find a job here. My horse is tied up outside; I heard you’re one of the few inns in the area with stables.’ At this, the landlord cracked a smile and reached over the bar to shake Aleks’s hand.

  ‘The name’s Bodan, lad, and the wife over there is Ksenia,’ he said, lifting the partition to join him on the other side of the bar. ‘We’d best get your horse locked up safe for the night. Come on.’ They headed back outside, where Quicksilver was looking slightly disgruntled at the unfamiliar city smells and sounds.

  ‘My name’s Aleks,’ he said, quickly untying the reins so Bodan could lead him round to the stable block at the back. ‘And this is Quicksilver.’

  ‘The name suits him,’ Bodan replied, unlocking a stable door. Quicksilver clearly had no complaints, dropping to his side and rolling in the straw as soon as Aleks had removed his tack.

  ‘That’s quite the colourful face you’ve got there,’ the landlord noted as they returned to the inn. Aleks winced.

  ‘I had a bit of a rough journey,’ he admitted. ‘I was mugged on my way up.’ Giving a heavily altered version of his story, he explained to Bodan about his travels. ‘So, you see, I don’t have much money to my name. But I’m looking for work, and I’m not too fussy about jobs, so I should start making wages fairly soon if the gods shine on me.’

  ‘We’ve a room up in the roof that we don’t usually rent out to customers. It’s a bit small, see, and most of the folk round here only want a week at most. Tell you what – how would you feel about working for your bed and board? Always things to be done around here, and if you work hard enough we’ll let you stay for free until you get wages in from a real job. I’ll have to talk it over with the missus, of course, but I can’t see her objecting. She wouldn’t leave a brat your age without a roof over his head.’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Aleks said instantly. ‘If your wife doesn’t object.’

  Bodan smiled, turning towards his wife. ‘Ksenia, love, come meet our newest tenant!’ he called, making the woman look up in surprise. She was pretty, her dark hair braided neatly down her back, her honey-coloured eyes twinkling.

  ‘Evening, lad. Are you travelling alone, then? No parents, or older brothers?’ she asked, extending a hand, not batting an eyelash at his bruises.

  He nodded. ‘No, ma’am, just me. I’m from down West. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you kindly for giving me a room.’ She smiled at him, patting the hand that still
held hers.

  ‘The pleasure’s all ours, lad. Which one’s he taking, dear?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘The attic room. He had a bit of a run-in with highwaymen on his way up, and is a little strapped for cash. I said he could work down here for his supper until he can get a real job,’ Bodan added.

  ‘Oh, that is good news! Our boys have both grown and left and it’s been awfully quiet without them. Go and put your things away and I’ll have a nice hot dinner waiting when you get back down,’ Ksenia assured him kindly.

  ‘This way, lad.’ Weaving easily through the gathered patrons, Bodan led Aleks up a narrow staircase right to the top, where there was a dark wooden door. The landlord unlocked it, nudging it open, and with a flick of the switch a lamp overhead flared with light, startling Aleks. He wasn’t used to switch-lamps, having grown up with lamps that needed setting by hand.

  The room was small, but he doubted he’d spend much time in it; all he needed was a place to sleep safely at night.

  ‘It’s not much, but it’s clean enough,’ Bodan remarked, staying in the doorway as Aleks crossed the room, dropping his saddlebag on the bed and peering through the narrow window set in one wall. He could see half the city, the tall masts by the shipyard towering high over everything else, and once again he was amazed by how brightly lit the city was at this late hour. His father always said the city folk had no sense of time; out in the country, you rose when the sun did, and you went to bed not long after it got dark. Aleks supposed that when artificial light could make it bright enough to work by, little things like daytime hardly mattered.

  ‘It’s brilliant,’ he said firmly, perching on the bed.

  ‘I’m glad you like it. This is yours,’ said Bodan, tossing the door key at him. ‘We lock the front door at midnight, so if you’re out any later you can sleep in the stables. You’re welcome at every meal, but if you’re here you’ll be expected to help clear tables with our kitchen girl. You’ll meet her later, my niece – she’s about your age I should think. How old are you, anyway?’

  ‘Seventeen,’ Aleks replied, shedding his outer coat and gloves. As had become his norm, he kept his hat on to cover his military haircut. He only took it off to sleep and bathe these days, too scared of getting caught out.

  ‘Then she’s a mite younger – just turned sixteen a month back.’ At Bodan’s prompting, Aleks got up and left his new room, locking it behind him. ‘Bathroom’s just down there. Takes a while for the pipes to heat in the mornings, so if you’re wanting an early shower you’d best prepare for a cold one,’ the bearded man told him.

  Downstairs, Ksenia had set up a meal for Aleks at the end of the bar. Fish stew, with green beans, bread and a tankard of sweet-smelling mead.

  ‘It smells lovely, thank you,’ he said, picking up his cutlery. A small, suspicious part of his brain wondered if he was being too trusting, if he was letting his guard down too early, but he resolutely ignored it; he didn’t have the luxury of being wary right now, not when he was more bruise than flesh and half-starved. If it turned out later on that Bodan and Ksenia weren’t all they seemed, he’d deal with it – unless, of course, it was too late by then.

  As the night crept on and the men began to leave the inn, Aleks found himself chatting with Ksenia. She started compiling a list of places for him to start looking for work; reputable places that didn’t require previous experience and paid adequately. Despite the many new pubs and taverns opening up in the city, it seemed that the locals preferred to stick to their familiar haunts; some of the men frequenting the Compass had been doing so for thrice Aleks’s lifetime, back when Ksenia’s father ran the place. As such, she knew half the decent businessmen within a ten-mile radius, and knew which ones were looking for employees or could point him in the direction of someone who was.

  Finally up in his bedroom for the night, Aleks didn’t go to bed right away, instead dragging his rickety desk chair to the window to sit and peer out at the city that was now his home. For a while, at least. There were still plenty of people out despite the late hour, though his attention was drawn to the blinking dots of light created by the tiny thunderbugs fluttering about the stable block. He could hardly believe how quickly his life had turned around; just a few days ago he’d been stuck in the Rensav army base with no expectation of surviving his four years. Now he was relatively safe and sound at the other end of the country, with good people around him and countless options for the future ahead of him.

  Aleks just hoped he could keep his new-found luck for as long as possible.

  8

  Armed with a list of places to look for work, Aleks went out almost as soon as the sun rose, fully prepared to spend the day knocking on doors. He was well rested, and there was a spring in his step as he started down the street. He felt better than he had in a long while, possibly even since he’d left home, and he could only hope his high spirits would help him find an employer. Every flash of blue, black and white made him want to hide, but he avoided any guard-heavy areas and resolutely told himself that news of his escape couldn’t possibly have travelled faster than he had. That didn’t stop him from having a near heart attack at the sight of a man with strawberry blond hair and a moustache, believing momentarily that Shulga had arrived with plans to take the journal back and Aleks with it.

  Now the sun was up, he could get a look at the city in all its glory; and it definitely was glorious. Old-fashioned Siberene architecture mixed with the new designs that were clearly influenced by Mericus and Anglya, and even Erova, and a few daring people had gone for the Anglyan mix of brick and wood rather than the sturdier stone buildings Siberene was famous for.

  Aleks’s first stop was near the shipyard, an enormous warehouse full of all kinds of goods brought in on the trade ships. According to Ksenia, the owner of the warehouse was looking for a new boy to haul and sort stock. It didn’t sound like much to start with but it offered the opportunity to move up in the ranks, possibly even to the point of travelling with the stock back and forth between countries. That was a job he would enjoy.

  The warehouse owner was a squat, slightly greasy-looking man with a distinct Southern accent and the white-blond hair to match. He was curt with Aleks right up until the moment when he explained Ksenia had sent him, at which point the man couldn’t have been kinder about rejecting him; apparently he’d already filled the position. Aleks wasn’t disheartened; he had this long list of prospective jobs for a reason. All it required was a little perseverance.

  By late afternoon Aleks was still unemployed, and his spirits were starting to dampen. It seemed that no one was hiring, or they wanted someone a little burlier for the job they had in mind.

  Still, he refused to give up after only a day, folding the list away neatly and deciding to take a break to explore the city. He picked a random direction and set off with his gloved hands shoved in his coat pockets, eyes taking in everything they could.

  It quickly became clear that if he wanted to get around the city he’d have to become very familiar with the tram system. Syvana was much too large to even contemplate walking everywhere. With that in mind, Aleks made his way to the nearest tram station, spending a good while staring at the map in utter confusion. To him it was just a series of lines and place names that meant nothing.

  Eventually, a cheerful blonde woman took pity on him, helpfully explaining how to go about purchasing a ticket and which tickets allowed him access to which parts of the city.

  ‘It took me a while to get used to it when I moved here too,’ she said with a smile, having already mentioned her relocation from Erova earlier in the conversation. ‘But once you get into the routine you hardly have to think about it. Good luck!’

  Aleks thanked her, buying a ticket to a random district on the opposite side of the city. Riding the tram was strange, the floor moving under his feet in a way that nearly toppled him several times, and he was very glad of the metal bars overhead for people to hold on to.

  After wandering for a while a
round a district full of what seemed to be office buildings, he successfully navigated his way back to the shipyard. Leaning against a railing with a mug of hot tea cupped between his hands, he watched the ships dock and take off, letting the strange sounds wash over him. Some of the shouting sounded familiar, if he didn’t listen to the words – men calling out in the fields had been the background noise of his childhood – but the sea crashing against the concrete pillars and the creak of sails catching wind were new to him. He wondered how the men didn’t feel anxious, working so close to the water’s edge and being splashed by the spray of the high waves. Didn’t they worry that one wrong step would send them flying over the edge? He shuddered at the prospect, feeling new respect for the dock workers. He wouldn’t like to end up in that water, and he didn’t doubt it happened at least a few times a year. Especially with the number of sprogs running about, doing errands for their captains and masters.

  Shaking his head, he dragged himself away from the shipyard, deciding to start heading back to the Compass. He’d missed lunch, but he could still make it back to help with dinner. He needed to prove to Bodan and Ksenia that he was good on his word to work for them.

  Proud of himself for not getting lost on the way back, he offered a half-hearted smile to Ksenia as he entered, slumping on to a bar stool opposite her.

  ‘No luck, lad?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing yet, but I’m only halfway down the list,’ he replied, brandishing the paper pointedly.

  Ksenia’s frown lifted and she patted his arm. ‘That’s the spirit. Dinner service isn’t technically for another fifteen minutes or so, but if you’re hungry I can start early for you.’ He shook his head at the offer, tugging off his gloves and putting them in his pocket.

  ‘No thanks, I can wait. A drink of water wouldn’t go amiss, though?’ he asked hopefully, making her smile. She turned away to get him his water and Aleks took the opportunity to survey the rest of the tavern. It was fairly empty, which made sense for the hour, though there were a few men grouped in one corner whom Aleks could have sworn he’d seen when he’d left that morning. Had they been there all day?