by Todd Shryock
“Well, if it isn’t my young apprentice,” came a familiar voice from behind him. Quinton turned to find Sands standing behind him. His face had a few red welts on it and his hand was badly scraped, but aside from that, he looked all right. Quinton couldn’t help but smile. Sands was one of the few people who had helped him.
“I thought you were dead,” he told his master.
“It was in doubt for a while. That was an ambush all the way, and I got into a bit of a scrape but managed to escape, as did you. Then I had to lie low in one of my hidey holes until they gave up looking for me. Let’s just say I got to know some rats on a very personal basis.”
Quinton nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“Enough of this chatter, I assume you have some news?”
“I do.” Quinton proceeded to tell him what he had seen at the camp and what the men talked about.
“An elf, and a high-ranking one at that,” Sands mused, rubbing his injured hand. “I’m not sure what Wren is up to, but it certainly doesn’t bode well for us. He’s obviously making some sort of power play. Until we can figure out what it is, we are at a severe disadvantage. Come, let’s share the news with Fist.”
Quinton was hoping Sands would take the news to Fist on his own so he could sleep and avoid having to deal with the death stares of the hulking giant. No such luck. They made their way to Fist’s office and were granted an immediate audience. His response was similar to Sands’ when he heard about the elf but involved a lot of profanity and pounding of fists on the table.
“What is he up to?” demanded Fist to no one in particular. “What’s he doing bringing in outsiders to our dispute?”
Quinton wondered why the master thief was upset that someone wasn’t playing by the rules, but Fist’s tirade interrupted his train of thought.
“We need more information.” Fist stood up, and Quinton was once again amazed at the man’s sheer physical size. He assumed that when he was actually out stealing things, he probably just kicked in a door and everyone ran up and handed him their valuables. “Sands, you will find out where this meeting with the elf is and report back to me immediately.”
Sands bowed and backed away toward the door. Quinton did likewise and felt the pressure lift as soon as the door shut.
“I’ll be working this one alone. I have an idea of where the meeting might be, but it’s on the other side of the wall to Wren’s inner city. You are dismissed.” Sands voice was gruff and he was already focusing on the task at hand. Not too long ago, Quinton might have been hurt by his tone, but he understood what was at stake. Besides, he was so tired, he didn’t really care. He headed down to the maggot pit, found a bit of unoccupied floor space and instantly fell asleep.
***
Quinton woke up and wondered what time of day or night it was. The pit was completely dark and mostly unoccupied. Maggots could sleep whenever they wanted, as long as they hit their quotas. His stomach was empty, but there certainly wasn’t anything to eat in the pit, so his only option was to hit the streets and steal something. He made his way outside and judged it to be less than an hour before dusk. He had slept longer than he realized. He headed toward a busy section of town near the wall that he knew would be teeming with people heading home from the market. It didn’t take him long to spot the perfect target. There was a woman and a little girl who was about four years old. The girl had an apple with a small bite out of it in one hand and a small loaf of bread in the other. She was carrying each one up in the air like she was trying to feed it to the sun as she tottered alongside her mother’s skirt.
Quinton made his move. With several quick strides, he closed the distance between him and his target, then broke into a run for the last few steps. He slipped between the woman and her child, snatching both the apple and the bread from her hands as he glided by without breaking stride. He glanced back and saw the child with a stunned look on her face, then once she realized what had happened, she burst into tears, her wailing cutting through the crowded street. The woman yelled but realized no one was going to help. Quinton was already safely away from her and disappearing into the masses. One last curse was sent in his direction before he was out of earshot. He found a nice dark alley to sit down in to enjoy his meal. He looked at the apple with its tiny bite out of it.
“Sorry, kid,” he said to the apple. “But I’m hungry.” He devoured the apple and bread, alternating bites between each.
After sitting for a few minutes, Quinton headed back out on the streets. It was nearly dark now, and the crowd had thinned considerably. He was making his way toward the inner wall to try to find some easy marks when he saw Huck heading toward him from a side street.
“Hey, I want to show you something,” he said as he approached.
Quinton looked at him, wondering what it could possibly be.
“Trust me, it’s really great.”
“Sure.” He wasn’t really sure, but it was better than looking for someone to pickpocket. Huck led him through the streets until they were near the gate next to the Pink Lady. A few streets back was the giant burned-out shell of what had probably been a spectacular church at one point. Large buttresses and arches sprang from the building like water out of leaky dyke. The walls and most of the exterior were intact, but the windows were charred and soot climbed well up the side of every opening, showing where the flames had broken free in the fire. When the two boys stepped inside, Quinton was amazed by how far up the ceiling, or what was left it, soared above him. Most of the ceiling was gone and was starting to reveal the stars, but sections along the tops of both walls were still there. Most of the interior was gutted. Charred wood and blackened marble sat in a large pile in the middle of the floor, what was left of the ceiling that eventually fell. There were some half-burnt pews and those corner pieces of paper that always somehow managed to survive any fire.
“This place was probably amazing before it burned,” said Quinton, more to himself than Huck.
“It still is. Follow me.” Huck led him around the piles of debris until they were in back of what had been an altar. A small headless statue with outstretched arms was lying on the floor, but there was no sign of the head. A little beyond that was a doorway. The only thing remaining of the door was a pair of hinges and one heavily charred board that hung at an awkward angle. Huck pushed past it and led him to the base of a large stone staircase that spiraled tightly upward.
“Is it safe?” Quinton asked, wondering how much damage the building had sustained from the fire.
“Probably not,” said Huck as he started up the steps at a trot. Quinton hurried to catch up.
The step were dizzying because they were a very tight spiral and very high. It was almost like standing in place and continually rotating until you felt sick. When they reached the top, there was another door, but this one was untouched by the fire. Huck swung it open and the cool night breeze hit Quinton square in the face. After the brisk climb, the air felt good on his sweaty forehead.
He stepped through the door and looked around. The doorway gave access to a very narrow walkway that ran along the edge of the roof. The arching remains of the roof leapt up into the darkness to his left, while on his right was a small ledge about a foot high and capped with tile. Beyond the ledge was a steep drop.
“Look, you can see right in,” said Huck, pointing over the inner wall. Quinton strained to see through the darkness. He could make out the hulking shadow of the wall below them and the shapes of buildings with their small square windows lit up in the night. A few lamps burned in the streets, and he could see a group of about six soldiers marching past. The streets of the inner city looked a lot cleaner, and safer, than those on the other side. “It gets better,” Huck said as he motioned for him to follow. They made their way down the ledge and Quinton could make out the dark shapes of others sitting on the roof and the ledge ahead of them.
“Who is that?” asked one of the dark shapes ahead. Quinton recognized the voice as one of the other maggots.
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“Huck and Quinton, what’s it to you?” Huck answered tersely.
“Just asking,” said the boy, apologetically.
As the two of them edged closer and found a somewhat comfortable place to lean on one of the roof arches, Quinton could see at least five other maggots on the roof. They were all staring intently at the building on the other side of the wall.
“Look over there,” Huck said, pointing to the top floor of a large building just on the other side of the wall.
There was a large set of windows, all lit with many lights from within. Inside, through the paned glass, you could see it was some sort of large banquet or dining hall. A long table ran down the middle of the room with chairs on all sides. Servants were busy setting the table and were starting to bring out bowls of what looked like fruit and plates of cheese.
“You won’t believe how much food they’ll have,” said one of the other boys.
“I hope they all choke on it,” said another. The last one Quinton recognized as an older boy who never said much, but when you’re a maggot, you don’t always have much to say.
A woman in a fancy dress walked into the hall waving her arms at the servants, pointing to and fro.
“I’d like to put an arrow through her,” said the boy who first challenged them when they arrived.
“If I had a bow, I’d do it for you,” said the older boy.
“Right you could.”
“I’m serious. I’m a great shot with a bow. I was an expert hunter before I ended up here.”
“There’s no way you could shoot that nanny with an arrow from here.”
“I could, and I also could throw you on top of her from here, as well. Would you like me to prove it?” The boys scuffled for a minute as the older one grabbed the younger one and acted like he was going to toss him over the edge, much to the chagrin of the younger boy.
“Knock it off, you’re going to ruin the evening,” said Huck. “I’m sure if he had a bow, which he doesn’t, he could make the shot. In fact, we’ll just call him Big Shot from now on. If we need someone to shoot a mouse from two hundred paces, we know who to ask.” The other boys chuckled, then went back to watching the never-ending parade of food that was being placed on the table. “Let’s see, what would I eat first?”
“I’d get me a big chunk of that pig that’s on the end of the table,” said one of the smaller boys.
“Yeah, that would be a good start,” answered Huck. “But it looks like there are some pies or something there on the side. I’d have to have me some of that, too.”
Quinton watched as people, well-dressed and clean people, started coming into the room to take a seat at the long table. “I wonder what the occasion is?” he asked no one in particular.
“Occasion?” snorted Big Shot. “It’s dinner time, that’s the occasion.”
Quinton thought for a moment. “You don’t mean they do this every night, do you?”
“Yep,” said Big Shot. “Every night, they lay out a big feast on that side of the wall while we scrounge for scraps on the street, most of which have to be paid to the guild.”
“And now people are stealing maggots right off the street,” said one of the younger boys. Quinton wondered how many people knew about that, but apparently it was common knowledge.
“All we are trying to do is survive, and some people don’t even want us to do that. They’re dragging us off the street to who knows where, probably to be tortured about where Fist is.”
“They already know where Fist is, most likely,” Huck pointed out.
“Well, whatever, someone is grabbing us off the street and taking us somewhere. And no one is finding any bodies, so maybe they are chopping us into little pieces,” said Big Shot.
“Maybe those people are eating maggots!” exclaimed the smallest boy.
“That’s dumb,” said Big Shot. “When you have pig and pie, why would you eat a little kid? Look at them scarfing everything down.”
The whole thought was depressing. Was everyone on Wren’s side of the wall eating like that? No one said anything as the people devoured all the food. As the plates started to be carried away, the mood became more depressing. It was like watching your best friend disappear down the road, knowing you would never see him again.
“Why don’t we just leave?” Quinton muttered.
“Leave? Go ahead, I’m watching every last morsel of food disappear. Maybe they’ll throw their scraps over the wall or something,” said Huck.
“No, I mean leave the city. Go in search of some place where there is food and we can eat like them, too.”
Big Shot chimed in before Huck could answer. “Do you have any idea what you are talking about? Any idea at all?” His tone was angry and Quinton was starting to get the feeling it was permanently like that. “There are two ways out of the city, that way,” he pointed toward the docks and the ocean, “and that way,” he pointed toward the swamp, jabbing his finger into the night air. “Unless you are a fish, you ain’t going out on the water. Every sailor knows that Fist pays good money for any fugitives from the guild, and they wouldn’t want you on their ship anyway. With no sailin’ skills, you’d just be in the way. So that leaves the swamp. A hundred miles of filthy, stinkin’ swamp filled with snakes, scorpions and creatures big enough to eat you and smart enough to try. Rows of razor-sharp teeth and claws the size of your hand. There’s one road through the swamp, and it’s full of bandits. Don’t you see the caravans that come in here? They’re like small armies, because that’s the only way to get through. If it wasn’t for the swamp weed people are so fond of, they wouldn’t even bother with this place.” Quinton thought he was done, but he was just taking a deep breath to continue his diatribe. “And just for sake of example, let’s say you made it through the swamp. Then what? There are plains that stretch on forever. Far to the north, farther than you’d ever make it, is a elven city somewhere in the giant woods. But you wouldn’t be welcome there. To the West is Sugar Mountain, but dwarves and worse things live there and wouldn’t like you, either. East and along the river are some human settlements, but they’re all pirate kingdoms, run by terrible people. Lord Wren would look kind compared to them. If they found you, instant slave to some boy-humping thug. No thanks. So if you want to leave, go ahead.”
Quinton thought through what Big Shot had told him. If he was right, what would his options be if he left? Assuming he could even gather enough food to make any sort of trip, it would only last a few days, then what? He would wander the swamps looking for something to eat, dodging bandits and giant man-eating lizards. The whole idea was sounding crazy. He looked over at Huck, who was blankly staring off into the night, no longer interested in what was left of the food across the wall.
“What are you thinking about?” Quinton said.
There was a long pause before Huck’s eyes focused again. “Aw, nothing. I was just imagining what it would be like living on the outside, living on the run. One thing Big Mouth over there forgot was that, if you left, Fist, or someone working for him, would come looking for ya. Nobody leaves the guild, maggot, nobody.”
“Why would Fist care if a maggot left?”
“It’s a matter of principle,” said Big Shot. “If he lets one go, someone might get the idea that it’s okay to leave. Next thing you know, no one is left. Fist wouldn’t like that.” Big Shot pushed past them to get to the door. “I used to live on those plains, which is where I learned to shoot. If you don’t know what you are doing, you wouldn’t last a day out there. I know what I’m doing and I wouldn’t even think about attempting it.” He turned and disappeared through the door and down the stairs. The smaller boys followed.
“What do you think, Huck, would it be possible?”
Huck didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes narrowed as he mulled it over. “With the right preparations and the right plan, it might be possible.” He thought some more, but didn’t say anything.
“Are you working on a plan?”
“Me, uh, no. Too dangerous. I’m doing okay right here.” He glanced around, then slapped Quinton on the shoulder. “Come on, we have to get to work.”
***
Quinton spent most of the night doing his usual rounds of pickpocketing and petty theft. He had a pretty good haul by early morning and was taking a break near the Pink Lady when he saw Kate come out the side door. He immediately jumped up and trotted over to her.
“Hey, maggot,” she said in that slow voice. She looked really tired and unkempt tonight. “What’s wrong?”
Quinton smiled. “Nothing, I was just worried about you.”
A thin smile crept onto her face. “That’s sweet, but why are you worried about me?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer. “No reason, I just hadn’t seen you in awhile, that’s all.” He loved the way her red hair curled around her face.
“From what I hear, you should be worried about yourself.”
“What do you mean?” Quinton was half afraid she was telling him that they knew it was he who had stabbed Wren’s son.
“Word is that Wren is planning something big. There’s some outsider coming in to help him clean up. The Fly Guild is going to be stamped out.”
Quinton wondered how much Fist knew of any of this, but then he remembered something. “But you’re part of the guild, too.”
She laughed. “But we’re no threat,” she said, gesturing to the half-dressed girls inside the door. “Whoever takes over will just absorb us into their little empire. Fly Guild today, Wren’s wenches tomorrow. And probably someone else’s the next day.” The smile was gone from her face.
“I’m thinking of leaving the city,” he said without thinking. Just saying that was enough to get him killed.
She took a long, slow look at him. “Where would you go?” The question was more of a probe for information that a challenge to his idea.
“I’m not entirely sure yet. North to start, trying to make my way through the swamp. Once clear of that, who knows.”
