by JF Smith
The idea of being a part of the Kingdom Guard, protecting the aristocracy that viewed the people in disdain even as it rested on their backs, was impossible to Gully. Preposterous, in fact.
What was true, though, was that Gully’s ability to ply his trade, to pilfer money and goods and to move through the city unnoticed, was getting more and more difficult as more of the guards were recalling his face with greater accuracy. It had been convenient to use Lohrdanwuld as a source of income, even if ill-gotten, while still searching the woods and bogs of the Ghellerweald for any signs of his father. And his foster brother’s love for him had caused Roald to look the other way when he wasn’t on duty. Gully felt the pang from taking advantage of his foster brother’s misdirected affections this way, but had continued to ply his trade in the city anyway.
And in doing so, he put Roald at risk, and his own risk was increasing every day. So, the thought of leaving Lohrdanwuld once and for all was becoming less of an option and more of an imperative. His leaving would hurt Roald no end, bless him deeply, but it was far better than Gully one day actually getting caught by the Guard and likely dragging Roald down with him.
His options were the town of East End, in Lord veBasstrolle’s fief on the eastern side of the Ghellerweald. Another was perhaps north, up to Wilch’s Post, which was the seat of Lord veOusthendan’s fief. Wilch’s Post, though, was more than a half-day’s journey from the northern edge of the forest, which would make it difficult for Gully to continue his searching from there. He could also possibly try settling in Kindern in Lord veKinn’s fief. But as with Wilch’s Post, Kindern was over a half-day’s journey to the forest, to the southwest of Lohrdanwuld. East End truly was his best option, and had the benefit of being very close to the part of the Ghellerweald north of the South Pass Road, which Gully had thus far spent little time searching. The searching there would go faster since it was drier and the forest was thinner and didn’t have the dangerous bogs that the southern half of the wood had. The downside was that there were more dangerous animals in that part of the wood — wolves and bears and even some large cats — and Gully had less experience with them. There were also supposed to be the gypsies there, the ones rumored to be behind the vanishings. Gully had never run across any gypsies in the southern half of the Ghellerweald forests, and he suspected that the rumors were just that — rumors. Besides, he had less fear of coming up against people in the forest than he did of the wild animals.
In the meantime, and as he had been since the first night he waited for his father’s return that never happened, Gully was a lost soul. Since that first afternoon spent alone and expecting his father’s approaching whistle in the woods, since that first night listening for any familiar sound of his father’s and hearing only the sounds of the forest that seemed foreign and frightening, since the second day sitting in the doorway of the hut, watching and waiting. Waiting until he could wait no longer. He had been a lost soul now for ten years, even around a family, a foster mother and brother, who loved him and whose love he failed in his ability to return adequately.
He had become like a stray cat that had taken up residence in the home of the Delescers, coming and going as it pleased, taking and rarely giving. There for a night, then gone for a day. There for a meal, then away for a week. Making itself at home when around, but everyone knowing that it would never allow itself to be pinned down and genuinely become part of the family.
It would hurt, but Roald would be better off with him gone away for good. Perhaps his foster brother could manage to find another who was... Gully admonished himself for almost using the crude word “knockered” yet again, something he did far too often around Roald. Perhaps Roald could find another who was sway, as the more polite members of Iisen society termed a still very frowned-upon behavior. Perhaps Roald could find someone who could return the love he had to give.
And the moment he thought of that, the name “Mariealle” crept into his head. The fascinating Mariealle, whom he had only seen on a few occasions, to whom he had never spoken, and who had never even looked in his direction. He put her out of his mind immediately. If he allowed her into his mind, his sense of self-preservation would fly from him faster than the hawks of Kitemount and he’d never leave Lohrdanwuld.
The sound of an angry voice caused Gully to look up through the rain and realize he was blocking the road. He stared up into the large brown eyes of a Belder horse standing there, towering over him. The words “clear the way” and “street vermin” finally penetrated his reverie and Gully saw the driver of the fine carriage urging the horse forward, trying to get it to trample over Gully where he stood. Belder horses, though, were well known for their gentle nature and even dispositions, despite their size and power. The big chestnut horse with its white belly stood in place and refused to push Gully out of the way, ignoring the urgings of its own master.
Behind the horse, a round head and red face, graced by an embroidered coif hat, leaned out of the open side of the carriage to see what the obstruction was and shouted, “If the two-legged donkey is too stupid to move, Fervicke, run the knockered fool down! The loss of him will only raise the collective intelligence of the Iisendom and we’ll all be the richer for it!”
The driver on the front of the carriage agreed, “Aye, your Lordship!” He barked at Gully again, “You heard the noblesir! Out me way, offal!” The driver was waving at Gully with a hand missing a finger and yelling with a mouthful of angry, yellowed teeth.
Gully stared stupidly at the driver of the carriage until the Belder horse took a step forward and nudged him lightly in the shoulder with his big nose. The horse snorted and Gully finally pulled himself out of his stupor. He moved off to the side so the horse and enclosed carriage with its impatient passengers could pass. The driver didn’t even look at Gully as he rode by, but still muttered “starless wretch” at him as they passed.
Gully’s eye was drawn to the door of the cart, which carried the ornate gilded livery of the Watch Tower constellation upon it. He nodded in respect to the occupants as the carriage drove by since it was the stars and livery of none other than Noblesir veBasstrolle himself. But in his mind, he was chafing at the fact that the good horse, an animal, had treated him like a person, while the people in the carriage had treated him like an animal.
He was content to leave it at merely chafing, until the Lord’s conveyance passed him, that is. The back of the carriage was packed tight with all kinds of goods, baggages, and trusses. A cream colored wheel with a distinctive black stripe was the main thing that really caught Gully’s eye, and made him think twice about letting the insult go. A Grand Glenoval cheese wheel sat among the Lord’s accoutrements, right there on the back of the cart; it was practically begging to have Gully’s fingers upon it. Such a cheese would make a fitting apology for the Lord’s rude insults, indeed — a sharp cheese to forgive a sharp tongue.
He had half of a mind to run and catch up to the carriage, snatch the fine cheese and make a dash for it, but the carriage had already pulled over in front of a courtly tavern a half block further and the Lord himself was getting out to enter it. Gully’s curiosity grew as he wondered what business the Lord would have in such a tavern, even a fancy one in a wealthy neighborhood. Usually, the noble families forewent mixing with the citizenry, even the rich merchants, and they kept to the grounds of the Folly while visiting the city.
Lord veBasstrolle entered the tavern while his driver stayed outside to keep watch over the cart, which now made it harder for Gully to do as he had intended. As he thought about how to approach his prize, his eye caught on another strange sight. There was a man who had been waiting by a side door of the tavern, around the corner from the carriage. The stranger waited a calculated moment and then entered in after the Lord. What had caught Gully’s attention was something that most others probably wouldn’t have noticed. The man was trying so very hard to be inconspicuous that he was anything but to Gully’s practiced eye. This piqued his interest even more, but he was st
ill more interested in spending time with the cheese wheel than with the Lord or his discreet associate.
Gully thought for a moment more and hesitated since the driver was keeping a close eye all around him now. He’d have to be very careful and very stealthy to get away with it. With sudden inspiration, Gully scratched at his left palm again and thought to himself with a grin, but why be stealthy when brazen gets the job done?
He approached the same side door the other man had used a moment before. Before entering the side door of the tavern, Gully removed his surcoat, turning it inside out so it showed the dark gray color instead of the brown it was when he had been shooed out of the way. He left the hood down as well, and entered the tavern while making sure the driver had not caught sight of him.
Inside, his eyes scanned the room in a second, and confirmed that Lord veBasstrolle and his companion were nowhere to be seen. Gully had assumed they’d take a private room upstairs for their meeting since the visitor wasn’t keen to be noticed and since the Lord was too privileged to bother associating with the commoners below.
He held for a moment, trying to decide how cheap a man the Lord was. A man of nobility should offer a belder coin for the task Gully would claim, but he doubted Lord veBasstrolle was that man. Instead, he pulled two swallowstamps out of one of his pockets, then walked straight out the tavern’s front door and directly up to the back of veBasstrolle’s carriage.
The driver immediately called after him, “Oy! What you think you’re doing, yeh sodden fool? Get away from the carriage there!” The driver threw his wide-brimmed hat on the seat and jumped down to stop Gully. He pulled down on his dirty tunic underneath his vest and straightened up to his full height.
Gully grinned, showing all his teeth minus the one he had lost the day before, and slipped into a country brogue without even thinking about it. He held up the swallowstamps for the driver to see and exclaimed, “Your esteemed Lord, the Noblesir veBasstrolle ’imself, just gave me two spits and bade me a-bring him a few provisions from the cart, sir!” Without waiting for a reply, he began to pull at the cheese to free it from its nest of packages. As he did so, he spotted a jug of fine mead next to it, and wondered if he should press his luck. The mead certainly looked like a good one. He glanced over at the driver, who was looking at him with increasing suspicion and temper. Gully had to think quickly because the two swallowstamps were missing the mark. He added as he freed the cheese from the cart, “I tolds the grand noblesir that two stamps seemed a low price for an honest man like me to risk a beating by the innkeeper if I gets meself caught sneaking the goods up to him!”
Gully put the cheese under one arm and pulled the jug of mead out as well as he continued, “His Lordship kicked me hard and told me to stops me babblin’ away, he did! Said to do as I was told and be thankful!” Underneath where the cheese had been was an empty leather satchel, which was precisely what he needed to complete his thievery. He pulled on the satchel to free it and watched the driver to see how he was reacting to the amended story he had fed him. The driver had relaxed, watching Gully in disgust instead of apoplectic anger now, and Gully knew his extra lie had landed perfectly this time.
Gully put the cheese and the jug into the satchel and continued his explanation, “Ah, yes, can’t forget the very satchel what he described! The Lord would box me ears ’til they bled if I did! He said the victuals in the inn weren’t fit for a starving, one-eyed pig! Can you imagine? Didn’t want the innkeeper to see me a-sneaking these up to him!”
The driver smoothed his leather vest again and spat at him, “Earn yer spits quickly, oaf! And don’t be touching the Lord’s other belongings! Begone!”
Gully bowed towards him with a magnificent grin and said brightly, “Aye, of course! Good day to you, sir! I’ve earned meself two spitcoins today with a good deed! A very good deed! I hope you’ve done as much!”
Gully left the scowling driver and walked back into the tavern, the satchel under an arm and concealed by his surcoat. He strode directly past the perplexed look of the owner of the tavern, nodding to him with a polite “Good day, sir,” and then out the side door.
The instant he was outside, he walked back and behind the tavern where he set the satchel down long enough to turn his surcoat back right-side out. As he walked back out of the alley from behind the tavern, he glanced at the driver sitting upon the carriage and laughed to himself, would that all my thefts were this easy! He even wondered if he should have told the driver that veBasstrolle wanted him to bring up his moneypurse as well.
Gully began strolling down the road in the opposite direction, his step much lighter than when he had started out that day. Despite the poor weather, he whistled an airy tune the way he remembered his father doing.
~~~~~
Gully slipped into Roald’s apartment, finding it the same as he had left it that morning. It had been cramped before Astrehd had passed away the year before with the three of them there. Had Roald’s father been alive when Gully came to live with them, it would have been unbearably crowded. But Roald had almost a comfortable amount of space now that it was just him most of the time. The far end had a humble stone fireplace with a few pots next to it. The bed he and Roald had always shared was on the backside of the room. Roald had removed the wooden bed his mother had used and reclaimed the space for the luxury of a small garderobe — a honey bucket in the corner and surrounded by a heavy piece of fabric for a little privacy. He had obviously been thinking of Gully when he put it in since there was little need for something like that if he expected to be alone. There were a few stools and one wooden chair with a short back to it sitting around a small eating and work table, and then a short bench in front of the fireplace. Another longer, narrow table against the front wall served as the larder by way of some baskets for provisions and a couple of water jugs, which Gully was happy to keep filled for Roald at the public draw.
The apartment seemed a little emptier without Astrehd’s seamstress tools and materials and her washtub for when she took in some occasional washing for others. All that was left of his parents was a piece of fabric adorning a wall that his mother had embroidered with a view of the Folly, and then a few glass pieces his father had made.
Gully sat the satchel down on the rough wood table, causing it to wobble slightly on its one foreshortened leg. He stood, hands on the table, and stared at the bag, ignoring the water dripping off of his face and his surcoat he was so fascinated by it. He opened the leather flap and took the cheese and mead out, his mouth practically slavering at the very sight of them.
The desire to cut into the cheese and enjoy it now, to drink the mead and let it cushion the rest of his day, was almost agonizing. Gully sighed and pushed it to the far side of the table; he would resist and save it. Roald was to be done with his watch later that night and Gully would share it with him. It would be great fun to tell Roald the story of his adventure and how he came to have such a fine cheese and mead, but Roald strictly forbade that kind of talk from him. Roald always said it was bad enough knowing items were stolen, but knowing the details of his crimes made it far worse.
Gully emptied his surcoat pockets so he could take the wet garment off and dry himself until Roald returned, laying his moneypurse, his small leather roll of lock-picks, and the ground chicory out on the table. As he doffed his surcoat, he decided he would allow himself a hot drink of the ground chicory instead of the prize cheese and mead. Roald liked a chicory drink as well, so he promised himself to save most of it for his foster brother.
He busied himself stoking up the fire with a poke or two and then hanging a small pot of water in it for his chicory drink. While the water was heating, he sat down in the chair and examined the leather satchel with more care. It was a fine bag, well-crafted of a thick leather, and Gully regretted he would have to toss it somewhere. The leather was conspicuously and finely tooled with the veBasstrolle crest, characterized by the noble family’s ancestral stars in the middle — the constellation of the Watch Tower.
His fingers ran across the supple hide, feeling the dips and ridges of the embossed insignia. Gully wondered how much a fine quality leather satchel such as this would cost. He thought it would probably cost 4 or 5 crowns at least, as much as a peasant farmer, such as the good man Brohnish, might make in an entire year working on veBasstrolle’s land.
Gully set the satchel aside and took the hot water from the fire. He prepared his chicory drink and resumed his seat so he could savor it. While he waited for the chicory to cool a bit, his hands found the satchel again. This time, he looked inside. It was empty, which had made it a convenient tote for the cheese and jug to begin with. But as he examined it, he looked in a leather pocket sewn into the inside, where he found a piece of parchment.
He took it out, unfolded it, and found that it was a letter. He pulled the chair over to the fireplace so he could better read the note by the light. He had to work slowly at it, forming each word in his mouth one by one. His father had taught him to read a little, but he was still slow at the task. Roald was much better at it since he had to be able to read, and even write, as a member of the Guard. Gully had never learned to write his letters or how to spell words.
Slowly, he sounded the words of the letter out loud, which read:
My Dear C.,
I hope I do not have to emphasize this to you again, but you cannot arouse suspicions with what you round up to sell to the Maqarans. We must be of one mind on this matter. Too many will cause questions and unrest.
However, whatever of the forest animal kind you catch, let yourself feel free to sell them for as much as you can get. The only thing to remember is that you must cut their tongues out first as always, and they must be delivered with the silver binding as required. As long as you can honor those requirements, you have my blessing with respect to the animals. Sell all of the vile lot to Maqara for all I care.
