The Fly Guild

by Todd Shryock

  A few hours after he returned, Red eye called a meeting of all maggots. Everyone assembled in the room where what passed for a meal was served each morning, mockingly referred to as the king’s kitchen. Quinton looked around. Everyone was slumped against the wall or sitting on the floor. Their eyes were bloodshot, their shoulders hunched. It was late afternoon, a time when most would be sleeping. The smallest maggots were doing their best to keep from falling asleep. One boy sitting on the floor slumped over on another as if he had just been shot with an arrow before his new pillow slapped him across the neck so hard that the resounding crack not only woke up the offender but silenced all the low conversations taking place. The timing was good, because Red eye walked into the room and seemed somewhat surprised that he didn’t have to tell everyone to shut up.

  “Listen up, maggots,” he unnecessarily said. “You all know what we’ve seen and heard today. Maggots are being dragged off the street, but we don’t know why. We know of one person that is confirmed to be paying for you urchins, but that’s about it.”

  Quinton assumed the person Red eye was talking about was Greenpants, but the talk continued before he could mull it over much.

  “All of you are being put back out on the streets, because we need more information.” Eyes around the room grew wide. Most looked scared. Being a petty street criminal had its own inherent risks, but being kidnapped wasn’t usually one of them. “This could be Lord Wren’s doing, thanks to whoever aired out his son.” Red eye stared at Quinton, but he was getting accustomed to meeting him with a blank stare.

  Yeah, I stabbed him, so what? Quinton thought to himself. Red eye looked away.

  “You will all go about your normal business, being careful not to get caught.” Another unnecessary statement. All the maggots tried to avoid getting caught; what he really meant was avoid being killed. “If you see someone trying to grab a maggot or any other urchin, report back here immediately with the location and description of the people involved.” There were a few moments of silence. “Move it!” he shouted, and the room erupted into a boiling mass of boys trying to push through the exit, any fatigue replaced by a fear of Red eye. “It’s not that we care you are disappearing,” he shouted above the mass as they struggled to get out, “it’s that you are guild property that someone is stealing. Fist does not like that.”

  Quinton made his way to the door and was about to exit when Red eye put his hand on his shoulder and roughly pulled him aside. Had he read his mind about the stabbing?

  “I have something special for you,” he hissed. The other boys avoided eye contact and quickly emptied the room. When the last sounds of them disappeared down the hall, Red eye looked him up and down. “What’s wrong with your knee?”

  “I hurt it when I was making my escape from the kidnappers,” he said, looking at the floor.

  “Sloppy,” Red eye replied, his voice full of his disapproval. There was another long pause. “You are a good climber.” What he said was more of a statement than a question, so Quinton remained silent. “Do you know where the Lombard Fish Market is?”

  Quinton nodded.

  “The large building behind it with the black doors?”

  Quinton nodded again. It wasn’t an area he frequented often, as the pickings were usually pretty slim, but he knew where he was talking about.

  “You will go there, climb the wall of the black-doored building and make your way across the roof. It connects many buildings, so you will be able to follow the roofs for some time. When you get to the other side, you can climb down and you’ll be near a section of the city wall that has partly collapsed. You can make your way through the gap, because the walkways are isolated and not patrolled by the guards. There’s some sort of camp nearby. Find it and identify who is there. That entire area is part of Lord Wren’s protected area. If you are caught, you will be killed. We do not know who you are, nor do we care. If you come back without information on the camp,” he let his voice trail off and finished with his deadly stare. His eyes contained many emotions, but none of them were good. Quinton felt the fear stir within him again. Red eye was a difficult man to stand up to. Red eye reached one of his pale hands into his shirt and pulled out a small vial of what looked like blood. “Drink this. It will help your knee. It does us no good if you fall off the wall before you even get there.”

  Quinton did as he was told. He took the vial, pulled out the small wax stopper and drank it in one gulp. The flavor was a cross between salt water and sewage, with a wicked burning sensation left in the back of his throat. He could feel the sensation spreading through his limbs, and then, in a flash, it was gone. Red eye took the vial from him and walked away without saying a word. Quinton knew he was dismissed and that he had better get going. He took a careful step on his bad leg but found all the pain was gone. He took a few more steps and tested it out, flexing this way and that, but it was if the injury had never occurred. Who knew what was in the liquid, but it was worth the result.

  He made his way out of the guild and into the street. The sun was already starting to fade low in the sky, and the taller buildings were casting long shadows on the streets below. He didn’t waste any time heading for the Lombard Fish Market and he stayed mainly in the middle of the street, well away from doorways and the alleys. If someone was going to make an attempt on him, he was at least going to have time to react. A constant glance over the shoulder added little reassurance.

  When he reached the Lombard building, two huge black doors sat slightly recessed from the street; the lines of the giant planks that made them up were visible from some distance away. Quinton took up a spot across the street and scoped out the general area. The building was huge and dominated the block. It appeared to be some sort of warehouse, but that didn’t really matter.

  The walls were made of cut stone and were fairly smooth, but certainly climbable, especially now that his knee wasn’t gimpy. There was no one around, which struck him as odd, because while this wasn’t the most trafficked area of the city and it was getting late, this was a little too quiet. On any other night, he would have taken that as a bad omen and moved on, but tonight, he had no choice.

  He waited the better part of another hour until it was good and dark before he finally made his move. The streets were deserted and the only sound was that of a light breeze blowing between the buildings, carrying with it a slight tinge of the salt air from the water beyond. He quickly moved across the street, throwing a glance either way for signs of trouble as he went, but nothing stirred. He picked a spot about half way between the large doors, now lost in a deep shadow and the end of the building. It looked to have several rough spots that would give him a quick start about one third of the way up the building without having to think too much. If trouble came, hopefully he would be out of reach before they could get to him. If trouble was going to come from the doors, he wouldn’t have enough time, but there was no facing Red eye again.

  Quinton’s heart started to race as he reached the wall. The stones were uncharacteristically warm but felt reassuring once he put both hands on the wall and started his way up. If trouble were coming, he was better served focusing on making a rapid ascent rather than watching anyone approach, so he ignored the urge to look at the street. Hand over hand and one toehold at a time, he made his way up the wall. Within a few minutes, he had one hand on the roof and was pulling himself up.

  He dropped to his knees, took a deep breath and looked around. The darkness had quickly enveloped the area and there was only a little starlight, but he could see the rough shapes of the mostly flat roofs in the area. The street behind him was still empty and no trouble had come, but he knew he was in enemy territory. Any guards who were posted up here wouldn’t ask any questions, they would just stick him with a spear and dump his body below for disposal later. He not only looked around, he cocked his head from side to side, scanning for any sound at all, the clink of metal armor, the rattle of a sword in a scabbard or the careless breathing of an unaware guard. No
thing. Quinton began to wonder if this was some elaborate trap that Red eye set up, but put the thought out of his head and started moving.

  He made good time, because the roofs were mostly flat and uncluttered. Every once in a while he suddenly stopped and listened, trying to detect any sounds or signs of pursuit, but after hearing nothing, he moved on.

  He found the end of the roofline by almost walking off of it. Only a fresh gust of air told him something was different. He instantly stopped and stared intently in front of him. A few steps away, he could see the edge of the roof and the yawning darkness of the street below. If he had taken two more steps, he would have tripped over the edge of the building and fallen to his death. Fate had given him a break. He had a feeling he was going to need more of them.

  The far wall of the cluster of buildings was rougher and in disrepair compared to the other side, so it was a leisurely climb down. After pausing on the street long enough to be sure no one was around, Quinton spotted the looming shadow of the massive city wall and the pile of rubble that led to a large gap. The pile of stones and debris was rough but almost formed a natural stair that any average person could climb. No wonder Wren kept this area off limits; otherwise, all the citizens might try to flee through the beckoning gap. Quinton crossed up and over the pile and found himself standing outside the city walls, unescorted, for the first time. What if he just ran off right now? What if he left everything behind?

  What would you eat? Answered the voice in his head. His pockets and his stomach were empty. Not tonight, he told himself, but soon. He would have to think through how to prepare for a journey that would allow him to escape the guild.

  Where would you go? Asked the voice again. Away, he answered. Just away.

  Before he could think any more about freedom, he heard a distant noise that sounded like someone snorting or possibly blowing their nose. There were several large chunks of broken wall surrounded by weeds and bushes on this side of the gap, so he found a deep shadow and listened intently.

  The sound came again, and it was getting closer. It sounded like the person had a cold and was sniffling. Then it came again. It was higher pitched. Maybe it was a woman. Then it happened again and it was louder.

  “Aw, shut up already,” said a gruff voice. Two sniffles answered. They were very close. It sounded like at least two men moving through the weeds along a narrow animal path Quinton could see from his hiding spot. As they approached, he saw two taller dark shapes, with a shorter one in between. The shorter one sniffled, and he knew it was another captured urchin.

  The group passed, and the two men were hardly paying attention to their surroundings. Both looked to be armed with crude spears that they were using more as walking sticks. When they were a little distance away, Quinton left the shadow and carefully followed, always being careful not to get too close and always had a hiding spot picked out should the men reverse course.

  They wound their way along the trail that roughly paralleled the wall before turning away when they were well away from the water. Quinton figured they were somewhere near the main road that led through the swamps that the occasional merchant caravan used to bring goods into the city. He started to hear other voices, so he increased the distance between him and his quarry. Up ahead, he could see the light of a few fires, which were in holes and shielded with what looked like wagons that stood between the camp and the city. There were bound to be sentries, so he found a particularly overgrown area that had a view of the camp and settled in to observe.

  After studying what he could in the flickers of the pale orange light from the fire, the camp appeared to be a circle of wagons with tents set up in the middle. He heard voices, and some sounded like women. Occasionally, a cry of a child rang out, but it was quickly silenced. Whether it was the prisoner or someone else, he didn’t know. Quinton started easing his way around the circle of wagons, looking for a better vantage point while keeping an eye out for the inevitable sentries. He spotted the first one maybe 25 paces from his original hiding place, staring blankly off in the night, leaning heavily on his spear.

  Quinton waited for a few moments to make sure he wasn’t spotted. He started to circle even further out to avoid the man but stopped when he heard someone approaching. A few seconds later, he made out another silhouette in the faint light approaching the sentry, who turned to meet him.

  “Craz, you still awake?” joked the new man.

  “You’re the one who falls asleep on duty, you ass,” snorted the other, none too pleased about the joke. “Besides, we should all go to sleep and forget guard duty. There ain’t nothing out there.”

  “Yeah, once we get through the swamp and the wild things that live there, things are pretty quiet. Nothing is coming out of the city, that’s for sure.”

  “Except what we want to take out.”

  The other man didn’t answer but shifted from foot to foot. He wasn’t holding a spear like the other sentry. He turned and looked out into the night alongside Craz. “Captain told me to pass the word that we’ll be on the detail to escort the viceroy tomorrow. There’s some sort of meetings taking place, and he has to go into the city.”

  “That’s going to draw a lot of attention.”

  “We’re all going in undercover. We’ll be dressed as commoners and merchants. A few of us will be armed as usual and acting as mercenary guards. Everyone else will carry daggers only.”

  Craz spat. “I don’t like that. Puts us at a disadvantage if anything goes down, and word is Wren has the citizens all stirred up.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll blend in with the crowd, escort the viceroy to his meeting spot, provide security while he’s there, then exit the same way. Easy in, easy out.”

  Craz spat again. “Nothing is ever easy. Walking an elf through the middle of an unfriendly town sounds like a bad idea. Why can’t Wren come out here?”

  Quinton nearly gasped aloud. An elf? Why was there an elf here and why was he kidnapping human children? He filed away the information and continued eavesdropping.

  “Because it would draw attention to the viceroy, and Wren is afraid to leave his safe portion of the city. Once he’s outside his walls, he’s vulnerable to the gangs that roam about.”

  “What about his own gangs?”

  There was a few seconds of silence. “I don’t know. My source didn’t know what the score was, other than the situation was pretty fluid right now as Wren and the main gang try to strengthen their positions.”

  “See, you don’t know the score. What if they find out what we are up to and set up an ambush? All we’ll have is a few knives and some nice clothes to hit back with.”

  “There ain’t going to be any ambush. No one knows we’re here, and even if someone has seen us, we look like any other merchant caravan that rolls into this hole.”

  Craz pointed at the bush where Quinton was hiding. “What about that bush?” Quinton froze. How could they see him? “It just heard everything. What if it am-‘bushes’ us?” The other guard snickered and Quinton relaxed. He hadn’t been spotted after all.

  “Funny man, Craz, funny man.” He turned and walked back to the camp, leaving the sentry to stare off into the night again.

  Quinton figured it was time to get back to the guild. He knew who was in the camp and that they were coming into the city tomorrow. That would put them on the guild’s turf, and it would be a lot safer to work for more information in the city. He could try to find out more, but with the guards about, it would be difficult to do so. The other problem was what looked like a good hiding spot at night was often in wide-open ground in the day. If the sun came up and he was out in the open, he was sure to be spotted. He slowly crawled through the bushes and grass until he was back on the small trail and trotted at a low crouch back toward the wall. He found the pile of rubble easily enough, but hesitated going back up. Sands had warned him once about never using the same route to return that you used to get somewhere. He knew if he followed the city wall all the way
around, there was a section that was lightly guarded and full of deep shadows. It would cost him time, but something didn’t feel right about the rubble pile. He continued on into the night.

  High atop the pile, a pair of disappointed eyes watched him go.

  Chapter 6

  Quinton was extra cautious finding a spot on the wall to climb. He watched for some time to make sure there were no guards about, then made his way up and back in to the city. By the time he made his way from one deep shadow to the next and back to the guild, it was nearly dawn and he was exhausted. He had hardly gotten in the door when Huck greeted him.

  “Hey, you’re still alive,” he said, acting half surprised and maybe a bit disappointed.

  “Thanks for your confidence.”

  “You better have found something.”

  “What, are you Red eye now?”

  Huck just laughed. “I’m just saying, for your own good, you better know something.”

  “I do. I need to find Red eye so I can get some sleep.”

  Huck pushed past him and back outside. “Maggots don’t sleep. People take things away from you when you sleep.” He smiled and walked away. There was something in the way Huck smiled that Quinton found disturbing.