by E G Radcliff
Áed squinted through the mist to see a couple quick movements before the shadows slunk out of sight again. His skin chilled. Their gestures were of men coordinating a hunt.
“Do we run now?” Ronan asked.
Another glance confirmed that the men were no longer trying to hide. “Yeah. Run.”
The man in front gave a shout, a quick whip of a noise that cut through the sound of Áed and Ronan’s footsteps. Their feet pounded unevenly and found purchase on the milky-white brick, and scattered pebbles clattered away. The men behind them sounded like beasts, all weighty footfalls and grunts, and their voices died eerily fast in the clammy air. Beside Áed, Ronan’s pallid face flushed with splotchy blushes that rode high on his cheekbones. The men behind were stronger, Áed knew, and they were gaining ground. He could hear their footsteps drawing nearer.
“Here!” Áed cried, pushing Ronan in front of him as he darted into a recessed doorway. The locked door handle gave way to a kick, and Áed shouldered it open. They darted inside, he pressed the door shut and, without stopping to think, slammed his palm to the handle. Upon impact, the weak metal glowed with heat and fused the door to the frame with a slither of smoke. Áed motioned to Ronan, who had stopped running, nose wrinkled. “Come on,” Áed said. “Come on, this way.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. Now, move.”
They’d burst into a shop of some sort, lined with shelves of bottles and herbs, and to the right rose a narrow staircase. Áed tore up the staircase, urging Ronan on ahead of him. The place smelled warm, like spices and cleanliness, but Áed couldn’t pause to enjoy it—at the base of the stairs, shouting and pounding sounded at the door. “In ainm dé, are they still coming?” Áed swore. What in the world could they want so badly?
The stairs led to two doors, and Ronan quickly leapt to try the handles. Neither knob would turn. Áed cast about rapidly, and, acting on a flash on insight, kicked aside the neat doormats: There beneath the mat of the second door lay a silver slice of saving grace. Ronan scooped up the key, shoved it into the doorknob, and pushed the door open, and Áed elbowed it closed and locked it behind them.
They stood for a moment and caught their breath, panting from the exertion. Áed dropped to a squat, bracing his elbows on his knees, and Ronan collapsed next to him. In the sudden quiet, the world felt safe for a moment, just one fragile, water-drop moment, cocooned in warmth and the smell of chamomile.
Áed collected himself and looked around the apartment they’d invaded, and he gave a low whistle. “A thiarcais.”
Ronan stood and, still breathing heavily, gaped around.
Never had either of them seen such luxury, from the cheerfully-painted walls to a beautiful table of inlaid wood farther inside. No sound came from deeper within; it was empty, and Áed took a step forward and glanced about. “Who lives here?”
“A queen,” Ronan suggested. The rain, which now beat heavily on the window, had left shining droplets on his hair. Now that they were in relative safety, Áed noticed the lavender circles under the younger boy’s eyes. Ronan’s head drooped, and his little shoulders were rounded.
Áed put a hand on Ronan’s back with an encouraging smile. “I’ll bet there’s food in here.”
Suddenly, beneath his hand, he felt Ronan tense. The boy froze, and Áed instinctively froze as well.
From the hallway outside the door: footsteps. Not the heavy, loud movement of the men who pursued them, but someone with a light tread nearing the door in quick, even steps. Áed nudged Ronan around the corner, and the boy kept quiet.
A scrape sounded at the door, and the footsteps stopped. Áed sighed sharply. “Of course.”
There came a jingle from outside, then a click as keys bit into the lock and turned, and Ronan pressed himself flat against the wall. “How do we hide? If whoever’s out there lives here, they can’t not notice us.”
The door squeaked as it opened, and another presence joined the room. A rustle of fabric on fabric brushed through the air, and then timid footsteps crossed the floor. “Hello?” a woman’s voice called out cautiously. “I know someone’s here.”
Both Áed and Ronan held their breath.
“Cynwrig, you’d best not scare me.”
Áed elbowed Ronan until he had the boy’s attention and mouthed, ‘You talk.’
Ronan’s eyes bugged, and he pointed to himself as if there were someone else Áed could have meant. ‘Me?’
Áed nodded, and Ronan balked. “Trust me,” Áed whispered.
Ronan pursed his lips and drew a deep breath. His eyes were fixed on Áed, who nodded, knowing that Ronan’s voice was still high and unthreatening. “Um… hello.”
Áed heard the woman jump, her footsteps skittering backward on the floor. “You’re not Cynwrig.”
“No. I don’t know who that is.” Ronan poked his scruffy head around the corner, but not before Áed caught a glimpse of his frightened face. “I’m sorry we’re in here.”
She made a squeaky sound. “We? Who else?” Shakily, the lady peeked around the corner. Her skin, whose smoothness placed her in her mid-twenties, held as little color as a phantom. Her eyes, a pale pink, lent the only hint of blush in her terrified expression, though her entire person seemed to glow with the warmth of her yellow dress.
“Hello,” Áed said, keeping his voice low. “I swear we won’t hurt you, please don’t panic.”
“What… who… why are you…?” The lady tripped over her words, unable to articulate a thought. She looked like she might either faint or scream.
“Seriously, we aren’t going to do anything, please don’t scream. Please, please don’t scream.”
“I—I won’t.” She gulped, her throat bobbing. “What are you doing here?” From her inflection, Áed could tell clearly that she was doing her best to reassert control. Her intentions, from what Áed could read of them, were shifting reactively: Run. Fight. Stay calm. He tried to keep his tone measured.
“Hiding, at the moment,” he replied honestly.
“From whom?”
“Not sure. Thieves, maybe. But I think they’re outside. So please don’t scream, or they might hear.”
She shook her head, and a touch of color returned to her face and spread ever so slightly across her high, round cheekbones. “I just came from outside. There’s nobody there.”
Ronan sagged against the wall in relief, leaving a streak of dust on the wallpaper. “Oh, thank the Gods.”
There must be another door, Áed thought, if the lady had gotten in. He wondered how long it would be until somebody noticed what he’d done to the doorknob.
“Um,” she said, turning a trifle pinker. It was a good sign, and made her appear far less likely to faint. “Who are you?”
“Áed,” Áed supplied, and gestured with his chin at his companion. “And this is Ronan.”
She blinked, still standing in the exact same position as when she’d first come around the corner. She looked ready to run or grab the nearest hard object to wield. “He’s your brother?”
Ronan glanced at Áed. “Áed takes care of me.”
“Oh.” She swallowed again, trying to regain composure. “I see.” She took a deep breath through her nose, eyes still flitting around as if searching for a weapon. There was a candlestick on a nearby table, and she edged toward it.
“What’s your name?” Ronan asked shakily. Then he shrank back, unsure if that was an acceptable thing to say.
She blinked, not expecting that question, and replied automatically. “Boudicca.” As soon as she’d answered, she narrowed her eyes warily at Áed. “What’s in your pockets?”
He’d slipped his hands there, he realized, out of habit. “Nothing. My hands.” To prove it, he slid them out and held them up.
Boudicca drew a sharp breath, but she actually leaned forward so her yellow-clad shoulders parted from the wallpaper. “Oh, my.”
“I know.” His fingers were gnarled, and the knuckles were too large for the bony d
igits that curled crookedly around each other as they crushed inward. The backs of his hand warped where his fingers torqued sideways into the curve of his palm. He spread those fingers as much as he could, letting Boudicca’s eyes scrutinize the tortured appendages.
“How do you, ah,” she began uncertainly, and cleared her throat. “How do you do anything?”
“He doesn’t, mostly,” Ronan interjected. “I do it for him.”
“You don’t have to talk for me too, mate.”
Boudicca’s lip gave an infinitesimal twitch, and the tiny smile seemed to put a crack in her wariness.
The tension seemed to be broken, at least temporarily. Boudicca stood up away from the wall, although she maintained her distance and her movements were as tightly coiled as a spring, ready to lunge for the candlestick. “So.” She pressed her lips together. “Where did you come from? You look a little…”
“Dirty?” Ronan offered.
“Well. Yes.”
“We’re from the Maze,” Áed replied. When it was clear she didn’t understand, he elaborated. “The city at the bottom of the cliffs. By the sea.”
Boudicca didn’t seem to believe him. “You’re from Smudge?”
“Smudge?”
“The city on the Red Sea.” She shook her head. “But they say it’s deadly. And people live like cockroaches.”
Áed nodded. “Then I suppose we’re from Smudge.”
Her mouth fell open. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
Ronan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The king’s forbidden it.”
“You have a king?”
She only seemed more lost. “The Gut has a king. King Seisyll.” Her eyes flitted back and forth between them, searching for hints of recognition. “You don’t know of the king?”
“No.”
It didn’t particularly shock Áed that someone had claimed authority over the Maze. It was a wild place, and its inhabitants paid little attention to proclamations of power unless they were in a gang whose turf was threatened. “Why has the king banned us?”
Her hand twitched toward the candlestick again, but she seemed to decide against it. “It’s for our safety. Smudge is dangerous.”
“That’s true, but I wouldn’t worry. Trying not to starve keeps people too busy to mount an invasion.” Although he couldn’t deny that they probably would, given the chance.
She blinked again, her pink irises shining as she latched onto a word. “People are starving?”
Áed nodded wordlessly, silenced by her ignorance.
She swallowed hard, and her right forefinger picked at the cuticle of her thumb. “I never thought of that.” Suddenly she seemed to see them fully, and her eyes scanned them up and down as she took in the grime and tattered clothing. Under her unsullied gaze, Áed felt an unfamiliar self-consciousness. “Well, I don’t suppose…” She swallowed, like she was trying to decide what to do. Áed could tell when she made up her mind, because she set her jaw with a feathering of muscle. “Do you two want to clean up?”
CHAPTER NINE
She led them down the honey-colored hall, casting vigilant glances behind her as she motioned to two paneled doors. “Bathrooms,” she said quietly, opening the doors for them. “Go ahead and bathe, use as much soap as you need.” Áed noticed her unconsciously wrinkle her nose, and he flushed with embarrassment. It was a very odd feeling. From the bathroom on the right, Ronan’s voice piped up.
“How do you get water up here?”
Áed eavesdropped as she explained how to use the faucet, and with a twist of her hand, a stream of hot water poured out of the spigot and splashed merrily into a white basin. She dropped in a fat bar of soap, and bubbles rolled to the surface of the filling tub. She closed the door for Ronan, and Áed moved into the bathroom across the hall. He clumsily mimicked Boudicca’s motions to turn on the stream of water, and he let it run until steam rose from the basin.
The sumptuous surroundings made him dizzy. Was it truly possible that people lived this way? As the bathtub filled, he couldn’t help but compare his reflection in the mirror to the people he had seen on the streets. His cheeks, hollow with hunger, sharpened his cheekbones and deep red eyes, and his sandy hair lay lank and filthy. His chest and arms were far too skeletal, their muscles taut and corded over his ribs and prominent collarbone. He blinked at himself, and felt that he saw himself clearly for the first time in his life. It wasn’t pleasant.
Shivering at the lingering chill from the rain and the trek from the Maze, he stepped into the bath. Immediately, a moan of pleasure escaped his lips, and he sank up to his chin to be engulfed in the warm water. For a moment, he just floated and let the heat penetrate his muscles, unknotting the lifetime of tension held in them. He had never known it was possible for something to feel so glorious.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his head underwater and rubbed his hands vigorously through his hair to loosen the tangles and grime. The chilly air of the bathroom refreshed him as he came back up and located the soap, and he put it to use attacking every mote of dirt.
When the bathwater turned gray, he emptied the tub and sat, shivering, as it refilled with fresh water. He rubbed the soap into a soft lather in his hair and behind his ears, losing himself in the novel experience of becoming entirely clean. A third time, he emptied the bath and filled it up again, and this time he simply floated, ears under the water so he could hear his heartbeat.
There came a rap at the door. He started, instantly alert, but then Boudicca’s voice came from beyond. “Áed? Are you done?”
He took a deep breath, relaxing. “Nearly.”
“Well, there are towels on the counter, and I’ve found some clothes for you. They’re my brother’s. They’ll probably be too big, but I’ll just leave them out here.”
He blinked in surprise at her generosity. “Thanks.”
Her footsteps tapped off down the hall, and, taking a towel to hold tightly around his waist, he opened the door a crack. Dry air spilled into the steamy bathroom as he took the pile of clothing and clicked the door closed again.
Boudicca’s brother was larger than Áed was. The sweater fit somewhat better than the pants that were too long and a bit too wide, but Boudicca had anticipated this and included a belt in the bundle. With a roll of the cuffs, everything fit admirably.
He folded his old garments into a tidy pile in the corner of the bathroom along with the now-damp cloth he used to dry himself before he opened the door. Followed by a swirl of lingering steam, he padded down the hall and back to the front room. Boudicca looked up from the table where she had been reading and stood. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
Áed nodded sincerely. “It’s unbelievable. Thank you.”
She nodded, still appraising him. “You look like a different person.”
“I feel that way, too.”
Boudicca took a deep breath, straightened her skirt, and nodded. She didn’t seem to know what to say next, and the silence felt awkward. “So…” she murmured, trailing off.
Áed filled the gap. “Who is Cynwrig?”
A cautious smile played over her face. “He’s the brother whose clothes you’re wearing.”
“Oh.” Áed cocked his head. “Does he live with you?”
“No, I’m alone.” She swallowed, pressing her lips together. When she opened them to speak, color ran into them again, even fuller than before. “Speaking of which.” She sank back down into her chair and traced absentminded patterns on the table with the tip of her fingernail. “I’m sheltering outlaws, aren’t I?”
Áed slipped his hands into his pockets. “You said the king’s banned us. So I suppose.”
“You look a lot different now that you’re clean, and, you know, not dressed in holes.” She coughed uncomfortably. “But you are easy to recognize, aren’t you?”
Áed frowned. That was likely true, but he didn’t know why it would matter.
“What did you do? To have the Guard after you?”
>
“What?”
She regarded him intensely. “While you were in the bath, two men from the August Guard came to my door and asked if I’d seen a blond man with red eyes, or a black-haired, green-eyed boy. They said they’d followed you here.”
Fear rose in Áed’s throat and soured on his tongue. The men who had pursued him and Ronan had not been looking to rob them. They had been of this August Guard, and now were searching for them. He knew he was staring at Boudicca with alarm. “What did you tell them?”
She looked down, her face flushing pink as she traced even more quickly over the tabletop. “I told them I hadn’t.”
Áed swallowed hard and released the breath he was holding. “Thank you. Gods, thank you.”
Boudicca cleared her throat almost daintily. “Since I’m breaking the law for you, I’d like to know a bit more about who you are.”
It seemed like a reasonable request, so he sat, took a moment to organize his scattered thoughts, and started from the beginning of the story.
✽ ✽ ✽
When Áed heard Ronan emerge from the bathroom, he paused, and Boudicca looked up to Ronan and smiled.
“What are you talking about?” Ronan asked.
“Everything,” Áed replied. “Add what you will.”
The story continued through the winding alleys of the Gut, from the Maze to the pyre, from the pyre through the farms and the cliffs. He didn’t mention Morcant, or how the man had met his end, and even when Ronan added to the story, the boy kept quiet about that as well. Amazement rolled off of Boudicca in waves as she listened to their descriptions of the Maze’s grungy streets, and tears actually collected in the corner of her eye when Áed tried to talk about Ninian. He couldn’t do it, and stopped mid-sentence. Boudicca didn’t ask for any more.