The Fly Guild

by Todd Shryock

  “I don’t have a name. Just maggot.”

  She giggled, showing her to be much younger than he thought. The smile quickly left her face as she spoke again. “Do you think I’m some kind of spy for Fist?”

  Quinton studied her in the dark. Even in the faint light, he could see her beautiful green eyes. “Why wouldn’t I think that? He owns this place.”

  She quickly added, “And me.”

  Quinton didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you think I like being a whore?” she asked softly. “Think I like having all these men lie on top of me? It’d be bad enough if I got the money, but I don’t. Fist gets it all. I just get to eat and have a roof over my head, but most of the time the place is full of men groping and grabbing at you, so there’s never any rest.”

  Quinton stared at her in the darkness for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. “I’m sorry for you,” he said, his voice consoling.

  “Be sorry for all of us,” she said, a hint of anger showing through. “Be sorry for the sorry lives we lead. Be sorry that this is the life we have. The river would be better, I think.”

  “Can’t you escape?” Quinton asked.

  Kate shook her head. “I can’t escape any more than you can. You try, you die. In fact, I could get a small reward just for telling Fist that you even mentioned the word.”

  Quinton’s eyes went wide with fear.

  “Don’t worry,” she added, “I won’t. There are enough bad things going on in this city without me adding to it.” She looked at him and smiled slightly. “I have to get back now before my fellow wakes up and screams for his money back. I just had to get out for a little while and get some air. I’ll see you around, I hope.”

  Quinton nodded. “I hope so, too.”

  “Stay alive, maggot.” She turned and started to disappear into the darkness.

  “Kate,” he called after her. She stopped and turned her head slightly. “Quinton.”

  She stood there motionless for a moment, then said, “Stay alive, Quinton.” Then she disappeared into the darkness.

  Quinton leaned against the wall and sighed. Talking to her had been the best thing that had happened to him since he had been captured by the guild. If only he could figure out a way to get them both out. But he knew there was no way. There was no place to hide in the city, and the city itself was surrounded by an almost impenetrable swamp that had knee-deep water in it during a large part of the year. The only way out was on the ships that came, but those required money, and they would never knowingly defy Fist to get them out. He made a promise to himself to find a way out. A way out for both of them. But who was he fooling? Why would she want to leave with him? She barely knew him. That would have to change. He’d show her what he was really like, that he wasn’t just another maggot.

  Quinton took his turn escorting a man away from the Pink Lady and cleaning out his pockets on the way. He was obese; large rolls hung over his belt and he smelled of garlic. He shuddered at the thought of the man on top of Kate. He repeated the process twice more, once with a tall, skinny man with short cropped brown hair who was so drunk he could hardly walk and once with a balding man in his late fifties. Quinton grew angrier with each escort, thinking about what Kate must have to endure.

  As he stood waiting for his next victim, the door opened behind him. There was a tall muscular, noble-looking man in the doorway. His eyes went from almost asleep to wide open in random intervals – a sure sign of drug use. He grabbed someone from behind the door and pulled her to him. He saw Kate’s look of disgust as he forced his lips against hers and groped her crotch. She gently pushed him away. “Time to go now. The maggot will see you home safe.” The man, who was in his late teens or early twenties, didn’t acknowledge Quinton but put his hands on Kate’s shoulders. He smiled slightly, then slammed her against the door. Her head whipped against the door and she crumpled to the floor. The man stood jubilant above her, like he had just knocked out a champion pugilist. He held his arms up and looked around the street as if celebrating with an invisible crowd.

  “Hell, yeah,” he said, his speech slurred and his eyes wild.

  Another girl had helped Kate to her feet. There was a tear in her eye, and she touched the back of her head to check for blood.

  “Go on home, Cerebus,” the other girl yelled. “Go on home or I’ll sic the toughs on you!”

  “Right,” the man said derisively, but he stumbled forward.

  Quinton looked to make sure Kate was all right, but the other girl shut the door before he could make eye contact with her. He looked back to the man and quickly came up behind him. He was going to push him to the ground, but he was much bigger, and he thought better of it. Even in his intoxicated state, he looked to be more than he could handle.

  “Come on, sir,” Quinton politely said. “I’ll help you home.”

  The man never looked at him. “I don’t need no stinkin’ help,” he said.

  “Then why are you headed the wrong way?” Quinton asked.

  The man stopped and his eyes narrowed. He looked down the street both ways and seemed confused. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said. “I’ll follow you.”

  Quinton led the man down the dark part of the street. His fists clenched tighter with every step and his teeth started to grind together. He purposely bumped into the man to reach into his pockets. He grasped a few coins and some other things he couldn’t identify in the dark. On his third try, his hand found the handle of a dagger in a sheath on the back side of the man’s belt. His hand grasped the hilt that felt cool to the touch in the night air. He could feel the pommel against the bottom of his hand. He carefully slid the dagger free and tucked it into the waist of his pants.

  “You should have seen me tonight kid. I banged that Kate whore in ways she never dreamed of. I violated her in every way possible, and it hardly cost me anything. I could buy her you know.”

  Quinton had his hand on the back of the man’s tunic, guiding him along the street. He realized he was biting his lip so hard that it had started to bleed. Here was an example of everything that was wrong with the world. “What do you like best about her?” Quinton asked as he turned the man down one of the many dark alleys in the area.

  The man groaned with pleasure. “I like the way she squeals in pain when you’re rough with her. I like slapping her around to remind her what she is.” He mumbled several other things, but Quinton tuned them out, his fists clenching by his side.

  “She told me she likes you the best,” said Quinton as they were almost in complete darkness, stumbling along the alleyway, dodging rotting food and other garbage, along with the occasional large rat.

  The man mumbled in recognition. “Yeah, I knew she liked it.”

  “I like you the best, too,” Quinton said, carefully pulling the dagger from his waist as he turned the man to face him. “You wanna know why?”

  The man snickered. “Tell me.”

  Quinton took the dagger and thrust it up into the man’s chest right under the rib cage as hard as he could. The man doubled over in pain, letting out a garbled yell. As he was doubled over, Quinton smashed the pommel of the dagger into the back of the man’s head, sending him to the ground with a sickening thud. He could feel the warm sticky blood covering his hand. He ran back down the alley. He heard one last moan from the man before he rounded the corner and headed back toward the Pink Lady. His heart was pounding. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He had killed a man, a man who deserved to be killed, but he figured he was done for sure. His anger was gone, replaced by weakness and fear. He stopped under a shuttered window that had a light behind it. He could see from the glow that his hand was covered in blood.

  He wandered aimlessly for a few hours, unsure what to do. Then he came to the river. It was so dark and noiseless that he almost walked into it. He hadn’t noticed the shadows of the houses had stopped on either side of him some ways back. He waded into the cool water and scrubbed his
hands of the blood. He washed his face and clothes as best he could. His clothes were so dark and stained he doubted anyone would notice. But how would he find his way back? He looked at the dagger in the pale starlight. Its blade felt good on his hand. He found a unique outcropping of three large rocks among some high grass nearby and a depression under one of them in which to hide it. Some day, if he lived, he might need the blade again.

  He left the river and headed off in the general direction of where he believed the Pink Lady to be. It was getting late, and the taverns were emptying out around the city as people headed home. Half in a daze, he heard a voice calling to him.

  “Where the hell have you been?” said Huck. “We’re already late. I was ready to give up on ya.” Quinton’s eyes looked at Huck, who stopped talking, then looked to the ground. His hands were quivering. He put them against his side to try to hide it from the other boy. “What happened to you?”

  Quinton swallowed hard before answering. His mouth was dry and he found it difficult to speak without his voice cracking. “I ran into a bit of trouble,” he said quietly.

  “Someone almost get ya?”

  “Yeah,” Quinton stammered, happy to have an excuse. “Someone almost got me. I got some coins and then … ” his voice trailed off.

  Huck put his arm around him. “Don’t worry, maggot. It happens to all of us. Everyone almost gets caught once in a while. But you got away, and that’s all that’s important.” He paused as he thought of something else. “But you did get the coins, then got away, right?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Huck beamed from ear to ear. He slapped him on the back. “Well, there you have it, then, coins and all. Hopefully enough to keep Red eye off of us. Come on, we need to get going.” With that, Huck trotted off down the street with Quinton close behind.

  The boys returned to the guild with little notice. Red eye was collecting the goods as the various maggots returned. His face was unreadable as Quinton dumped his small collection of coins and what turned out to be a small gemstone into a large sack the master was holding. Huck told him on the way back to the maggot pit that he had more coins than Quinton, but the gemstone more than made up for it. Huck was still talking as he leaned his back into the dorm door and opened it up.

  The other maggots, who had been talking, immediately stopped and stared. There was a faint glow coming from a several small candles set in the wall, all of which were around Lacoris. The older boy’s face broke out into a wicked sneer when he saw Quinton enter the room. He got up off the cot and approached him, the other boys moving out of the way to make a path.

  “So,” he said sarcastically, “It’s our little wall climber.”

  Quinton didn’t say anything, knowing no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be right.

  “Did you lose your voice?” called Vergoth, the squat, muscular boy said as he came to stand by Lacoris. “Or are you just deaf?”

  Quinton turned his head to stare at Vergoth. The other boy stared back.

  “He’s both,” said Lacoris, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “It’s what happens when you’re scared. You lose the ability to talk and you don’t hear nothing.’” Some of the other boys nearby laughed nervously, unsure if he was making a joke or not. Lacoris didn’t smile, but his voice took on a dangerous edge as his hand went down to the notched and rusty dirk at his belt. “Let me explain something again,” he began, “I’m ready to be named master and get out of here. I ain’t havin’ nobody mess that up. Master Hack says I’m the best maggot down here and I’m sure to be named next. If you starts showing me up with a lucky move here and there, well, that don’t reflect too good on me now, does it?”

  Quinton continued staring at him, his anger building. He was already tired of the guild and its rules and its rotten boys. “What do you have to worry from me?” Quinton asked. The question seemed to catch Lacoris off guard. The scars on his face and arms changed color in the light, and his face grew red.

  His hand drew the dagger from his belt and he held the blade close to Quinton’s face. “I think I’m going to carve me up someone tonight.”

  “Easy, Lacoris,” said Vergoth, who was staring at the knife. “You know that killing of maggots is forbidden. Only masters can kill maggots, you know that! You’ll ruin your chances of being named.”

  The fire went out of Lacoris’ eyes. Quinton noticed a few of the boys standing nearby looked disappointed. Whether it was because he didn’t get stabbed or because they were hoping Lacoris would do it so they could be rid of him, Quinton didn’t know.

  Lacoris’ fist lashed out and caught Quinton under the ribcage, sending him sprawling to the floor gasping for breath. “Don’t show me up again, maggot. Lots of bad things happen out on the street. Maggots fail to come home all the time. One more in the river ain’t going to be noticed.” With that, he turned and walked back to his cot, where he was surrounded by his close followers.

  Quinton crawled over to a space near the wall next to Huck. “Hey, at least you didn’t get stabbed,” said Huck enthusiastically.

  “Always a bright side, isn’t there,” said Quinton flatly, still trying to catch his breath.

  Huck just smiled in response.

  The door opened again. Red eye was standing there with Teli in front of him, who was looking even thinner than usual, his skin very pale, his head down. Red eye pushed him into the room and closed the door. Teli wouldn’t look up, he just slumped down to the floor. Quinton went over to him and led him over to where Huck was.

  “Teli, what happened?” Quinton asked.

  The boy continued looking down at the floor, refusing to raise his eyes.

  “Don’t ask him that,” said Huck quietly. “You don’t want to know.”

  “He lost a task,” said a boy nearby named Slade, who was picking the dirt from underneath his nails in the faint light as he spoke. “He paid the price. It’s our way.”

  “Price?” said Quinton. Huck looked away.

  “Red eye takes his pleasures on those who fail,” said Slade.

  “It’s motivating us to be better,” said another boy whose face was obscured in the shadows.

  “The man has some sort of supernatural abilities,” said Slade.

  “And supernatural desires,” said another.

  “He’ll do things to you that you couldn’t even imagine,” said Slade.

  “Just shut up, all of you,” said Huck angrily.

  Slade cast a glance at Huck, then at Quinton. “Just don’t fail, maggot, or you’ll be like him. Broken.”

  “And once you’re broken, you can’t be fixed again,” said the other voice from the darkness. “Isn’t that right, Teli?” A tear ran down Teli’s face and dropped onto the floor.

  “Lights out,” called Lacoris, and with that, the room dropped into darkness as the flames were extinguished.

  Chapter 3

  Quinton came out of his restless sleep to the noise of footsteps from the floor above him. There were lots of them and moving fast. He could hear the other boys start to shift about and whispering to one another about what was going on. The door suddenly flew open.

  “Get up, maggots!” shouted Red eye, his voice a shrill echo in the stone room. “To the slop room immediately.”

  The boys who were still asleep groggily stood up while Lacoris prodded everyone along, throwing in some slaps and sharp shoves as extra incentives to those moving too slowly.

  “You ’eard ’im, move it!” he shouted.

  “Yeah, move it,” Vergoth repeated for effect, shoving a small boy to the ground who crossed his path on the way to the door.

  Lacoris grabbed hold of Quinton’s arm as they approached the door, squeezing it tight. “Remember what I told ya,” he whispered in a menacing tone. “Don’t show me up again.”

  Quinton shook his arm free and walked on, following the other boys into the slop room where the food was handed out every morning and evening. Everyone filed along the walls and sat on the benches as Re
d eye wrung his hands in front of him at the center of the room. When everyone was inside, he started to speak.

  “There’s something up in town,” he said, slowly turning to glare at each one of them in turn. “The soldiers are prowling about down by the gate, and everyone’s whispering something about a murder.”

  Quinton’s heart dropped. He did his best to keep a straight face, and as Red eye looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “Does anyone know anything about this?” He held his gaze on Quinton while waiting for an answer. Quinton did his best to clear his mind and keep calm, but he wondered if Red eye’s powers allowed him to see through his ruse. No one answered.

  “Then you will all go out and find out everything you can,” Red eye said, his voice becoming more commanding with every word. “You will go out and get every bit of information that’s out there and bring it back to me. The soldiers are violating our treaty, which means whoever was murdered was someone important. Find me answers!”

  The boys didn’t need to hear any more. The benches scuffed on the floor as everyone hurried to make their way out of the room. There would be no breakfast this morning. Quinton could feel Red eye’s eyes boring through him as he made his way out the door, but he didn’t dare turn around to look.

  “Murder, huh?” said Huck, who had made his way up beside him as they moved toward the exit of the guild. “Wonder who it was? Probably one of those pretty boys from inside the wall. What do you think?”

  Quinton didn’t say anything. He wondered if Huck would figure out it was him and turn him in to Red eye. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Teli trudging along with the crowd, head down.

  “Once you’re broken,” Quinton mumbled to himself.

  “What?” Huck asked.

  “I said I don’t know who was murdered. But it sounds like we better find out.”

  “Yeah, that’s for sure,” said Huck. “By the way he was acting, sounds like Fist is pressuring Red eye to get some answers. How about we work together again today? We make a pretty good team.”