by J. J. Newman
The two boys talked for a few hours and drank the rest of the flask. Then they extinguished the fire, and lay on the floor to sleep.
“You going to be here again tomorrow night, Tsaeris?” Drake’s voice asked from the darkness. Tsaeris grunted a “yes”.
He could hear the relief in the other’s voice. “Me too.” Tsaeris grunted again, finding Drake’s question to be a tad on the pathetic side. He made a mental note not to return tomorrow night. He didn’t want Drake to start depending on him.
Morning came, and Tsaeris lit the small fire again, as the crypt was still pitch black. Tsaeris sat for a few moments, and his stomach began to growl. It was time to go find something to eat.
He asked Drake if he wanted to come, but the boy continued to sleep. Tsaeris walked over and gave him a soft kick. Drake did not respond. Frowning, Tsaeris rolled the boy from his side onto his back. Drake stared up at the ceiling, his eyes cold and dead. Tsaeris sighed, and closed Drake’s eyes with his fingers. He put out the fire, and glanced one last time at his occasional shelter companion. Sickness claimed more street kids than the worst of the predators.
Tsaeris left the church almost immediately, knowing he would have to return that night to dispose of Drake’s body. He didn’t want it contaminating his favorite sleeping hole, but disposing of it in daylight might attract some unwanted attention.
He pushed thoughts of Drake from his mind, and turned his attention to the many people walking the streets. It was time to eat, and one of these folks were about to pay for his breakfast.
Chapter Two
The Key to the World
Tsaeris had not been born in the city, though he had no memory of where he had come from, or who his parents had been. His earliest memory was of walking through a forest in the dead of winter. He must have been no more than four years of age, and this memory always bothered him. What was a boy that young doing in the cold winter forest? He remembered collapsing, from hunger or the cold, he wasn't sure. He laid face first in the snow for what felt like hours. His vision began to fade, and he felt the need for sleep wash over him. His fatal sleep was interrupted, however, by a strong hand grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and lifting him over a shoulder.
He could never remember anything about his rescuer. If he had ever seen the man’s face, he had long since forgotten it. The man brought Tsaeris to an orphanage in the Darson district of The City. It was filthy and understaffed. Mistress Vena ran the place like a prison. The kids ate their tasteless gruel twice a day, always at the same times. They were allowed an hour of play in the outdoor playground, which was a square of sunbaked grass surrounded by a wire fence.
Every day the orphans were forced to sit through hour long lectures about the history and social structure of The City. The history seemed fragmented at best, and there were a lot of holes that Vena liked to fill in with her own speculations. Tsaeris would often find himself nodding off during those lectures, and would be startled awake by a rough hand twisting his ear. Mistress Vena was a big fan of routine, and punished any rule breach harshly. Tsaeris still had small white scars covering his back from the woman's sharp switch.
Occasionally one of the orphans would get hurt. When that happened, the Doctor would come and attend the injured child. Tsaeris could not remember his name, or even his face for that matter. Yet he remembered how much he had liked that Doctor. The man was smart, attentive, and seemed to like Tsaeris as well. To the observant person, it was clear that the Doctor didn't much care for Mistress Vena. He was always insulting the woman in a passive aggressive way that Vena never picked up on. After each dig, the Doctor would always wink at Tsaeris, and the boy would grin in return. The Doctor winked at him alone, and it made him feel a sense of affection for the man. It was the only happy memory he had of the orphanage.
Tsaeris never made any friends among the orphans. He was a temperamental boy, as well as a natural loner. He was not a large boy, and his small stature, when mixed with his temper, often earned Tsaeris a beating from some of the bigger children. He was miserable.
He was also bored. The strict atmosphere of the orphanage left little room for excitement. Even the beatings had become mundane. He often wondered if a person could die from boredom. Sometimes, he almost believed they could.
When he was ten years old, Tsaeris made a discovery. Tsaeris had an inquisitive mind, and he liked to know how things worked. One night in the middle of the summer, Tsaeris sat staring out the sleeping quarter’s window, longing for the outside world. He glanced several times at the padlock on the window. He would sit there day dreaming about all the wonderful things he would do if only he had the key and could leave. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. Why? Why could a lock only open with a key? It wasn’t that he doubted it; he simply wanted to know how it worked. He began examining the padlock. He had to know why.
Tsaeris managed to find an old rusted padlock in one of the store closets while he was doing his daily chores. He slipped it into his pocket when nobody was looking, and could hardly wait to start playing with it.
During the hour of outdoor time, Tsaeris sat by himself in a corner of the yard, and tried to see inside the lock. It was no good. The keyhole was too small, and he would never be able to see inside. Most boys would have given up at this point, but not Tsaeris. To him, this was only an obstacle; a problem that was begging to be solved. There was an even better way to see inside the lock. He would break it apart.
Finding the hammer was not difficult. There were several seldom-used hammers in a closet near the kitchen. Finding a way to hammer open the lock without attracting attention was much trickier, as it would be a noisy job. Luckily Tsaeris was inventive, and oblivious to consequences.
While the rest of the orphanage was distracted by the small, but very smoky kitchen fire, they failed to notice that the white-haired boy was nowhere to be seen. Tsaeris had hidden himself in the privy while everyone else ran around trying to cope with the sudden fire. It took him a few noisy swings of the hammer, but the old rusty lock broke apart. He didn't bother to look at it; he just gathered the pieces of the lock into his pocket for future examination.
That night Tsaeris examined the broken lock, and he smiled at what he found; tumblers. He didn't know what they were called at the time, but he was excited at what this meant. He was sure he could manipulate the tumblers with a small thin piece of metal if he was patient. Tsaeris had just discovered the key to the world.
Opening a functioning lock was far more difficult than Tsaeris had imagined. Night after night he worked at opening the window lock, only to give up when the sun began to crest the horizon. He slept little those nights, but he was determined. Some nights he could feel the tumblers snap into place, and the lock turn ever so slightly. It was enough to keep the boy motivated.
After a just over a week it finally happened. It was the middle of the night, and Tsaeris turned his small metal instrument. The lock clicked open. Tsaeris grinned in triumph. The world was his. He was not prepared to go out that night, since it was late, and he was not entirely confident that he would be able to open the lock again at will. He closed the lock ever so slightly, just enough to make it appear locked. Nobody ever checked the window locks, since they were never opened. He smiled, satisfied with his work. Nobody would ever know.
The next day was a long one. Tsaeris could hardly wait to go out on his adventure. He was distracted, and he did his chores poorly. He just needed to make it to bed time, and he was free to do as he pleased.
It was not to be. Tsaeris had been daydreaming about his window, and was only marginally aware of his surroundings. Wandering the play yard and not paying attention to anything around him, Tsaeris accidentally bumped into the back of Briak, an angry dwarven boy who disliked Tsaeris, and any other scrawny child. He was a classic bully.
Briak turned to face Tsaeris, and the white haired boy winced. The young dwarf looked even angrier than usual, his stout frame bulging as he tensed and his mouth a thin
line beneath his short but thick beard. “Did you just push me?” Briak asked angrily.
“No, Briak,” Tsaeris said, shaking his head.” I didn't see you there. I wasn't paying attention.”
Briak narrowed his eyes. “You didn't see me? Tell you what, wimp. I didn't see you either.” He shoved Tsaeris roughly. The small boy crashed into a wall of the orphanage building, and slid to the ground.
He should have just stayed down. He should have let Briak feel good about his bullying, and just ignored the larger boy, but Tsaeris’ temper got the better of him. He sprang to his feet, and ran shoulder first into the dwarf. Briak, not expecting retaliation, was caught off guard and knocked to the ground. Several children witnessed the spectacle, though their fear of the stout and bearded dwarf boy kept them from laughing. Briak snapped his eyes towards Tsaeris. The boy knew he was in trouble, yet his pride would not allow him to run. Not with all the other children watching him, waiting to see what he would do. He would stand his ground. He raised his hands nervously and waited for Briak to attack.
It was a short fight. Tsaeris lay sprawled face down in the dirt, the dwarf boy sitting on his back, bending his leg in a painful hold. It was over. Tsaeris had lost, but Briak was not satisfied with a simple victory. No, not after Tsaeris had knocked him down in front of the other children. The mean-spirited boy continued to bend Tsaeris' leg until he heard a loud snap. Tsaeris screamed.
Tsaeris was carried to the infirmary. Vena had demanded the other children tell her who had injured the boy, but not a single one, including Tsaeris, dared to finger Briak. Not after that display.
Tsaeris lay on a stained mattress in the infirmary for an agonizing hour before the Doctor finally arrived. He examined the boy’s leg, and grunted.
“It's broken.”
“No shit,” Tsaeris retorted, earning him a sharp cuff to the shoulder.
“Watch that mouth, kid,” The Doctor said. The Doctor’s face still remained faded in his memory, but Tsaeris remembered one thing about him. He was a big man, and not the kind of big that came from being round about the waist. The man looked like he could snap a tree in two with his bare hands.
Tsaeris rubbed his throbbing shoulder. “Sorry,” he said.
“How did this happen?” The Doctor asked as he set out a splint and prepared to set the bone.
“I fell.”
“Into a fist?” The Doctor said with a derisive snort. “You have two black eyes, and large red marks on your face. You've been punched, kid. Hard.”
For some reason, Tsaeris felt like he could confide in The Doctor. “It was Briak, the dwarf boy. He beat me up, then broke my leg.” Tsaeris felt bitter tears running down his face.
The Doctor just nodded. “I'll tell you a sure way to beat the dwarf next time he attacks you. In fact, this technique is an almost guaranteed win.”
Tsaeris listened intently.
“How?”
The doctor leaned in, his eyes intense as if he was about to impart some ancient wisdom. “You kick him in the balls.”
Tsaeris gave The Doctor a startled look, and then chuckled. “But isn't that dirty fighting?” he asked.
“Yeah. So what?”
“What about honor among enemies...like in the stories?” Tsaeris asked, shocked.
“Let me tell you something kid. The stories are full of shit. Honor among enemies?” He snorted. “If you get attacked, there's only one rule. Win. Leave honor for the fairy tales.”
Tsaeris spent the next few weeks in his bed, staring longingly out the window. The unlocked window had not been discovered, and time seemed to drag as Tsaeris waited for his leg to heal.
Tsaeris was young, however, and his leg healed quickly. As soon as he could walk without pain, he wasted no time in opening the unsecured lock and its window. The rest of the children lay sleeping. He gave a mock salute into the darkness, and slipped out the window onto the roof. He silently closed the window, and took a deep breath. He was free! The whole city lay before him. He made it two feet along the roof before his next serious problem arose. Standing at the edge, he stared hard at the long drop to the street below. He had no way down.
He was almost about to give up for the night, but he stopped himself. He had made it this far. He walked around the narrow roof, which stretched around the mid-point of the entire building. Tsaeris felt his heart racing, and his hopes rising. The house next to the orphanage sat only a few feet away.
He pressed himself between the walls of the two buildings, one hand and foot on either building. He shimmied his way down to the alley floor. He was out. He was officially in the city.
He moved quickly out of the alley and into the street. He found it strange that there were people in the streets at this time of night.
People stared at him, some with curiosity, others almost venomously. Tsaeris began to feel nervous. He had heard of the dangers of the City, yet he never considered it when making his escape plans. A filthy looking man in a long tattered grey coat approached Tsaeris. He was missing most of his teeth, and he licked his cracked lips constantly.
“Yer a pretty boy, ain't ye?” the filthy man asked in phlegm filled voice.
Tsaeris ran, not waiting to find out what the scary man wanted from him. He ran and he ran, and he saw more scary people staring at him as he passed. This had been a huge mistake.
The cobblestone clicked with the sound of his boots, the houses to either side looking much the same. Wooden frames and shingled roofs hung over the street, making it much darker than it otherwise would have been. The lantern poles spaced along the street were insufficient against the larger shadows.
He stopped finally when he heard the roar of voices and laughter coming from a large building on his left. He couldn't read, but he recognized the hanging sign on the outside as an inn sign. He wasted no time pushing his way through the doors.
He stopped and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the light of the common room. It smelled of sweat and tobacco. Nobody seemed to be paying the boy much attention. He decided to have a seat on a stool at the bar, and wait for morning.
“What're you having?” A large woman with a stained apron asked from behind the bar.
“I don't have any money,” he replied.
“Well get out of here then, kid.”
Tsaeris stared at the woman. “I don't have anywhere to go.”
“Wait a second. You ain't one of them street kids, are you?” she asked.
“Street kids?”
“You know. No home or parents. Living in the streets.” He could see her face soften at the suggestion.
A street kid. One with the shadows, and the City. Nobody to answer to but himself. The idea had some appeal for the naïve orphan boy.
He looked at the woman, and saw a free meal in her sympathetic eyes.
“Yes,” he replied. “I am.”
Chapter Three
The Plan
Tsaeris sat in an alley, eating bread he had purchased with some nameless person’s money as he thought back to the bar woman. She had always been good for a free meal until she died of the wasting disease a year back.
Stealing had always come easily to Tsaeris, and he considered himself almost an expert. He also had “the luck”. Most street kids found only trivial amounts of money on their victims. A few coppers, a silver penny if they were having a very good day. For the most part, that's how it was for Tsaeris. Yet occasionally he would cut a purse, and a gold coin would drop out. It wasn't every day, but it was far more often than one would expect in a district like Darson. When the luck saw fit to grant him a gold coin, he would celebrate by sleeping in an inn for a day or two.
The luck was not with him today. The purse he had cut for his breakfast had contained only a few coppers. Enough to eat once or twice, but he would have to cut another purse again later. The people walking the streets were almost as poor themselves, so the take was usually very small.
Sometimes Tsaeris considered making his way to one of the more prospero
us districts where the purses were heavier. Yet the more prosperous the district, the more it was protected. The City Watch was in the rich districts in greater numbers than the others. Tsaeris smirked at the thought. Not like Darson could use The City Watch, what with all the rape and murder. No, the watch was busy protecting fat merchants.
Before Tsaeris had been born, The City had been ruled by a King and nobles. The hundreds of districts had each been owned by a noble, and there had been a king to govern them all. From what he understood of recent history, the nobles had hated and fought with each other. They all had small armies, and The City had been on the brink of civil war for as long as anyone could remember.
The King had no way to control the nobles, except for The City Watch. The nobles would often forbid entry into their districts by other nobles or their servants, but The City Watch had jurisdiction over the entire city. Their presence had kept the nobles in check for centuries. That was until “The Great Purging”, as it was known.
Nobody really understood what had happened during The Great Purging. The City erupted suddenly into civil war. The nobles fought each other at every gate, every mansion, on nearly every street. The King's forces were quickly overwhelmed when they had tried to intervene. The fighting had lasted for days, and the streets were littered with the dead and dying. When the war had finally ended, thousands of lives had been lost.
What was so strange about The Great Purging was that against enormous odds, the King, his entire royal family, and every single noble from every single district were all killed. There was not a single survivor with any royal or noble rank left to govern.
The Church of The Light claimed it was an act of the Light itself to purge the city of its corrupted rulers, hence giving the name to The Great Purging. To this day, there was still no true government in the City. A council of important men decided to act as the governing body until the entire mess was sorted out. Since then, more than a decade had passed.
