by J. J. Newman
“Great. Thanks,” Tsaeris said dryly.
“I’ll go get a look at the square tonight,” Telyn said.
“Good idea. The rest of you meet me here first thing in the morning. Will be a long day.”
Tsaeris decided to spend the rest of the day and night at the Tavern and made sure Richard set him aside a room. He spent the afternoon talking with agents he recognized, and when evening fell he sat alone at a table nursing a mug of mulled wine.
To his surprise, Niivi returned and came to sit at his table.
“Hi, there,” Tsaeris said, finding it easier to keep his head with all the drink inside him. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, really. Don’t know a lot of agents here, and wanted some company. Figured you wouldn’t mind the company yourself.”
“Not at all,” Tsaeris replied, sipping at the warm wine. “Want a drink?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Tsaeris ordered two more mugs of mulled wine.
Niivi sniffed the wine, and made a face. “Warm wine? You like this stuff?”
“Can’t stand it, but it warms the insides. I like it better than warmed ale anyway.”
Niivi shrugged, and then took a sip. She made another face, but didn’t comment on it again.
“How is it training under Elias?” She asked.
“It’s alright. He’s an intense guy, but I like him.”
Niivi nodded. “I hear he’s our leader. Is that true?”
Tsaeris laughed. “What? You don’t believe in Gravelock?”
Niivi laughed as well. “I’m not a recruit, Tsaeris. I can’t be frightened into behaving with Gravelock stories anymore.”
There were some in the Initiative who insisted it was run by the mythical Gravelock. Tsaeris had been amused to see that the Gravelock myth had even infiltrated the Third Eye Initiative. He figured every city needed its mythology and legends. The bigger the city, the bigger the legend.
“I don’t know if Elias is the leader, but I’ve never seen him take an order. That doesn’t mean much though. Every day I seem to be reminded about how little I know about this bloody job.”
Niivi smiled. “I hear ya there. At least it pays.”
Tsaeris gave her a mock look of outrage. “You get paid?!” They both laughed.
The two spent the rest of the evening talking and drinking, and Tsaeris couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself this much. It was with a lot of regret when he finally said goodbye to Niivi and went to his room.
He lay in bed for almost an hour, thinking about her and the mission and how the room seemed to be spinning, before he heard a knock on the door. Before he could say anything, the door opened. Niivi stood silhouetted in the torch light of the hallway. She was wearing a baggy silk robe.
“I thought I locked that door,” Tsaeris said, confused.
“You did,” Niivi replied. She walked up to the bed, and removed her robe. Tsaeris stared at her naked breast in shock and a little bit of horror.
“I...we shouldn’t,” he began to say.
She sat beside him on the bed and put her arms around his neck. “Why not? Are you married? Do you have someone?”
“I...have...uh...a Cyra...” he said, stupidly. Drunkenly.
“What’s a Cyra?” she asked.
Tsaeris expected to feel some sort of conflict, but it never came. “Cyra is...” he paused. “Nothing”.
Niivi smiled, then she kissed him deeply and seductively, and all thoughts of Cyra disappeared from his mind. In that moment, he belonged entirely to Niivi. And that just fine with him.
Chapter Fifteen
A Better World
The boy cried out as the ball of cold snow slammed into the side of his face, hitting him hard enough to knock the hood off of his head. His hair was red and unruly. He angrily wiped the snow from his freckled face and glared at the taller, dark-haired boy. Both boys were no more than thirteen years of age.
“There was ice in that, you ass!” he yelled, picking up his own ball of snow and making sure that it contained a healthy dose of ice as well. He tossed it at the bigger dark haired boy, catching him square in the mouth.
The boy wiped the snow from his face. He put his hand to his lip and it came away wet with blood. He began to cry, a loud wailing cry that only a child could make.
The red haired boy looked around nervously. It was mid-day but the city streets were mostly empty, save for those young enough to be able to ignore the inconvenience of so much snow and find a measure of joy in it. A blizzard had hit The City during the night, bringing the city to a halt. Most people stayed in the warmth of their homes or taverns.
“Hey, Kyle. Keep it down, would you? Do you want my father to hear?” the red haired boy asked, trying to calm his crying friend. The boy began to cry even louder in response.
“You little...you do want him to hear, don’t you? You baby. You started it!”
The street was lined with large structures, several stories high. Part stone and part wood, the structures were lazily constructed and had a slightly warped look. Each new level had clearly been built without any concern for aesthetic, and the wide structures were an eyesore to anyone who could see them. The large buildings housed many working class families, and what they lacked in quality they made up for with affordability. Rickety wooden walkways in the alleys connected the buildings high above, allowing easy passage between them.
The second story window of the building behind the red haired boy opened, and a bald man with a fiery red beard popped his head out.
“What the hell is going on out there?” he demanded.
“Aedrus threw ice in my face!” the boy accused between large gulping sobs.
“He threw ice at me first!” Aedrus yelled up to his father.
“That’s it. Apologize to Kyle and get inside.” Aedrus began to argue but was interrupted by his father. “Now!”
Aedrus walked up to Kyle and reached out a hand to apologize. Aedrus smiled and shook his hand, then leaned forward.
“I hate you. I just thought you should know that, you big baby,” Aedrus said just loudly enough that only Kyle could hear him.
He turned and went inside. A tall staircase led to the second floor of the building where Aedrus and his father lived. It was a small home, with two bedrooms, a medium sized sitting room, and a tiny kitchen. The sitting room contained a hearth, two comfortable cushioned chairs and a table where they took their meals.
Aedrus removed his heavy cloak and his boots. His father stared at him with his hands on his hips.
“Mind telling me what that was all about, boy?” his father asked.
“He threw ice in my face. I thought I would return the favor.” Aedrus gave his father a sheepish smile.
“Do you think that was the right thing to do?”
Aedrus shrugged. “No. But I couldn’t find any rocks, what with all the snow.”
His father glared hard at him and Aedrus wished for what must have been the thousandth time that he had kept his mouth shut.
“To my room for the day?” Aedrus asked. His father continued to glare. “Yeah, I’ll just go to my room.”
Aedrus shut his door behind him. A whole day wasted. A whole day of magnificent white fluffy snow. The sky had dropped a wonderful white toy on the city and Aedrus was stuck in his room all day because of that cry baby Kyle. He already knew what he would do to pass the time. He would plot out his vengeance.
His schemes were elaborate and unrealistic and he found his mind drifting to other more interesting things. He thought of the stories in the books his father read to him. Stories of dragons and magic, adventures and knights. Before long he was slaying dragons and fighting wars.
A stick he kept under his bed was transformed into a mighty sword. He went on daring adventures and fought evil wizards all in the comfort of his room. He was so caught up in his fantasy world that he failed to hear the door open.
“Aedrus! What are you doing!” his father yelle
d.
Aedrus froze, his stick-sword in hand. The dragon was beneath his knees waiting for him to deliver the final blow.
“Put the damn stick away and stop jumping on your bed. You’re not in here to play!”
And with that his great adventures were over for the day. He went back to silently plotting his revenge on Kyle.
***
The blizzard was days past and the city came back to life. A healthy sheet of powdery snow still lay upon the ground but most of it had been pushed off the streets. Hundreds of people gathered in the city Square, located at the center of Market. A large stage dominated the center of the square. Aedrus stood beside his father, too short to see very much of what was happening on stage.
To their left was Doctor Giant. The big man had spotted Aedrus and his father and the two men had begun talking. They decided to watch the event together. Doctor Giant wasn’t alone. He was with a small, one-eyed man with white hair. Before long a scary man with a short black beard came and spoke softly to One-eye. The two men nodded to Doctor Giant and his father and then walked away.
“I can’t see anything,” Aedrus complained.
“You didn’t even want to come,” His father replied.
“I know. But you forced me here anyway. It’s even worse now that I can’t even see what I didn’t want to see in the first place.” Aedrus thought about what he had just said and decided that it did make sense.
Doctor Giant smiled down at the boy, and then lifted him up and sat him on his shoulders. Aedrus wondered silently about the dignity of this. The man was so big that Aedrus felt like a child of one or two years of age when compared to the man. Oh well, at least he could see now.
“How’s the view from up there?” Doctor Giant asked.
“I can see the stage pretty clear. I can almost see all the way to the Kingdom of Synar from this height.” Aedrus sighed at his own joke. It had sounded better in his head.
On the large wooden stage there were a row of small chairs and a podium. City Watchmen lined the stage, all of them with hands on their weapons. Master Henning of the ruling council presided over the podium. A cloaked figure sat in the chair.
Master Henning was a middle aged man of considerable girth. He wore a heavy brown fur cloak with the hood down. His pudgy face was as hairless as his head.
“Welcome all to this most momentous occasion,” Henning began in a loud booming voice.
“Today we have reached a new milestone. As many of you are aware, we have made contact with a new people in the last few years. The elves of the tundra. Our relations with them have been staggered and suspicious on both sides. Our interactions have been guarded and scarce. Some of their people have come to our city, of course, but as outsiders. Well those days are over.”
Henning gestured to the cloaked figure. “Today we seal our relations with these fine people. We acknowledge them as a free people and a welcome part of our world.” Aedrus found that part to be a tad arrogant. Henning continued. “An alliance has been formed. They are welcome to work and live in our city as they wish, and we no longer need fear encounters with them in their tundra. We are united in this world and welcome the race of Elves.”
Henning paused for applause. There were clearly far less than he had been anticipating as he looked both nervous and irritated at the same time.
“Behind me is an emissary of the Tundra elves. His name is Bel. He will speak to you, his new allies and comrades to introduce us to his people. Elf Bel, please take the podium.”
The cloaked figure removed his hood. His hair was stark white, and his face was aged and weather worn. He was clearly well past his prime, yet he exuded a commanding aura and his bearing was one of considerable strength, though he was only average height and build. Bel approached the podium.
“Thank you Master Henning. Your introduction was most kind, despite the continued use of racial slurs.” Henning looked confused at that. Bel didn’t look at Henning, he addressed the crowd instead. “Elves are storybook creatures of mischief and small stature. And though I can be mischievous, I have never been small.” Bel paused. Aedrus wondered if that had been an attempt at humor.
“We are the Turindiel. We are happy to finally end the era of mistrust and occasional hostility with the folk of The City, and are overjoyed that you finally consider us people.” He said it sincerely, but Aedrus read the scathing sarcasm hidden behind the words. Doctor Giant obviously heard it as well, as Aedrus could hear him trying to stifle a laugh.
“From now on we welcome trade with The City and your people may freely travel the tundra with no fear of reprisal. We ask the same for our people who come to The City. Thank you for your time and for being a part of this event. Alliances are born so rarely that they should be remembered and celebrated.” With that, the old elf went back to his seat.
Henning, looking embarrassed at his unintended racism, took to the podium again. He spoke in great length about the alliance, but Aedrus had stopped listening. He continued staring at the elf, who seemed distracted for a moment by something behind the crowd.
Finally Henning stopped talking and the crowd slowly dispersed. Aedrus and his father said goodbye to Doctor Giant and headed home.
***
It was a cold night and Aedrus could feel the chill in his bones despite the hearth. He kept the door to his room open to allow the heat to come in. His father had long since gone to sleep, and Aedrus played Knights and Wizards quietly in his room.
He wasn’t quite sure what this whole alliance with the elves meant, but he thought it was a neat event to attend. He liked the old sarcastic elf on the stage. He also liked Doctor Giant, and he decided it had been a decent day.
After a few hours of fighting wizards, Aedrus began to feel tired. He wasn’t quite ready for sleep yet, though, and decided to sharpen the small knife his father had purchased for him days after his mother had died. For a moment, he thought he heard somebody scream somewhere outside. He shrugged it off. That was an all too common sound in The City at night.
Aedrus felt the weight of sadness settle over him. His mother had died two years ago. She had a disease that his father had called the Wasting. No healer, not even Doctor Giant, had been able to help her. Aedrus had been very close to his mother and the loss had stung him deeply.
It had hit his father hard too. Maybe even harder than it had hit Aedrus. His father fell into a dark depression, not wanting to leave his chair in the sitting room. The depression only seemed to last a few days though, as his father suddenly shook off the grief and began to be a father again.
In retrospect, Aedrus realized that his father had never shaken the grief at all. He had put it aside for his son, and he and Aedrus had bonded and become much closer than they had been before.
He loved his father very much, and he was thankful for his strength. If not for that, Aedrus wasn’t sure he would have moved on from the death of his mother either.
His father had given him this knife as a symbol. A symbol of strength. A tool of a man given to the young boy who had lost his mother. It made Aedrus feel suddenly stronger as well, which he knew must have been his father’s intentions.
Aedrus heard several dull thuds coming from the alleyway outside his window, and was distracted momentarily. Then he went back to examining his knife.
It was nothing fancy. A sturdy double edged steel blade about six inches long. The handle was hard brown wood, and it was sheathed in a small leather scabbard. Aedrus thought it might even be considered a dagger by some. He smiled at the thought. Many heroes of the stories wielded daggers.
He began polishing the blade. His father had drilled him about proper maintenance of the knife, and Aedrus polished and sharpened it every week. He found that it helped him remember his mother, and find the strength again when he felt sad. It also helped him think.
Aedrus heard another thud from the alley. This time it sounded closer to his window. Was somebody throwing snowballs? He scoffed at the idea. Who would be throwing snowba
lls at this time of night? Maybe it was Kyle. He had been mad ever since Aedrus had spiked his water skin with whiskey. It was an act of revenge for getting Aedrus in trouble with his father. Kyle’s father was none to impressed with his thirteen year-old boy coming home drunk.
It must be Kyle. The little jerk was trying to wake up his father get him in trouble. Throwing snowballs on Aedrus’ side of the home would only make his father believe it had been him making the noise. Well, Kyle would be in for a real scare when Aedrus opened the window brandishing a knife. He decided he would tell Kyle’s father that he had snuck out of the house as well. That would show him.
Aedrus would turn Kyle’s plan on its head, getting him in trouble instead. Aedrus smiled, put down his whet stone and walked to the window. He opened it and a blast of cold air burned his lungs. He looked out the window.
“Hey Kyle, see this knife....” He stopped mid-sentence.
A rope hung from one of the walkways only several feet above Aedrus’ head and a man hung by his neck from the other end. The man was so close to Aedrus, hanging only a foot or so below him, and he thought he could reach out and touch him. The moon shined brightly overhead and Aedrus could see the man clearly. He was swinging in the slight breeze, but was motionless otherwise. The man was naked from the waist up. Some kind of rope was hanging down from his belly and his chest was bleeding. Aedrus stood in shocked horror for a moment, and then did the only thing he could think to do. He reached out a trembling hand and began cutting away at the rope with his knife, hoping the snow would soften the fall enough for the man to survive, as he wasn’t more than ten feet above the alley floor. When the rope was finally severed, the man fell limply to the snow filled alley below.
Aedrus awakened his father. It took him a few seconds to explain what had happened, and another few seconds to convince him he was telling the truth. Aedrus and his father headed to the alley, a torch in his father’s hand.
They found the man lying on his back. Blood glistened wetly in the snow, its bright red a stark contrast to the cold white. Aedrus turned and vomited. Tears ran down his face.
