Did the king really suspect anything? It seemed unlikely, given the depth of forces he’d rallied. This wasn’t where there would be an actual fight. Now, if what Todder had heard was true, the real Army was gearing up for a fight with King’s Way. That would be a true test. Or maybe the king would fight his brother in World’s Eye, only a bit further to the west of King’s Way, which took the exact center of the continent. Everyone knew how much the king and his brother despised one another. Nothing would happen here in the city. Nothing.
If the king had just fixed this damn wall, Todder thought, I could be at home asleep. He could see his apartment now, two hundred yards away, only a few buildings past the Rotten Apple. He wouldn’t mind another pint either, come to that.
Airing his grievances of the king had gotten the sergeant nothing but funny looks from the lads. These kids were anxious for battle, eager to prove themselves or die trying. It was the dying part that Todder never got used to thinking about. His granny, at the age of a hundred and twenty, had put all of her children in the ground, including Todder’s father. His mother died a year later. Then he was sent to live with the old hag. That’s probably where all this thought of dying started to creep into his mind, his granny, suggesting she was fattening him up to eat for supper. Todder missed his granny.
“Eleven o’clock and all’s well.” He heard one of his cohorts cry out. Across the river, the city never slept, but in Jersy, the night was quiet.
The sergeant’s stomach rumbled terribly. The halfling had said that Snow’s leftover lamb stew would be scrumdiddly-something. Either Todder had misinterpreted the word or—
He jumped up and ran to the field ahead of him. He skirted around a rather noisy knot of toads, lined up like protecting the city was their job too. Seeing this, a handful of the other soldiers drew out their swords and readied for battle; the chink of steel echoed determinedly into the night.
“Just going for a dump, ya idiots!” Todder yelled back to them.
A farmhouse made up the immediate foreground. The moon hung in the air like a revolving chandelier, creeping lazily across the cloudless sky. The shadow of each troll bounced in its light; another, smaller Shadow followed casually behind.
They were still over a night’s run away from the city. Though the trolls had to stop for the day, the Shadow did not.
They stopped at the house, unspeaking. This was their first foray into human territory. Now four shadows stood ominously against a thatched straw roof, snuffing out the farmhouse’s bit of moonlight. The other Shadow had continued toward the city.
Al stuck his club-like fist through the straw like it was just that—straw. He pawed around aimlessly, until yes, he found something. Something fleshy and just about fist sized. A loud scream pierced the night air but was quickly followed by the snap of bones. All sound was extinguished.
A chilly wind blew; it licked Todder’s backside, riding along it was a scream, now as faint as the flap of a butterfly’s wings. The hair on the sergeant’s neck and back bristled. He stood up shivering, but for the life of him, he couldn’t place why. He high stepped through the tall grass.
“Outta my chair,” Todder said. And he scooted Brendan out of the chair with his boot.
“I was gonna give it back.” Brendan turned to back to the others. “Where were we?” he said.
“We’ve been right here the whole time!”
“No, I mean about the king. I still don’t get it. Isn’t there like a line of succession or something? You can’t just go and kill the king, then just because you have an army you become one. If that’s true, I could just gather you fellas up and have a run at the castle now.”
“That’s supposin’ you’s got the blue blood.”
“And the heraldry thingy.”
“And we follow you. How much is the pay?”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t the king have like a son or something?”
“I don’t think. Not this one.”
“He’s got a cousin,” Todder said absentmindedly.
“A cousin. That doesn’t seem very heir apparent.”
Todder sighed, more to let the hot air out his mouth and not his ears. “Could you fellas jus’ shut it?” he said. “I’m teetering on a headache as it is.”
12
The Boroughs
The wizard had said the room wasn’t much, and he was right—because it was a closet. Though, it had ample enough space for a halfling. There was only the one robe to contend with, Gabby’s spare, a long and black monstrosity of a cloak that hung above Epik’s makeshift bed.
Epik had spent the whole of the previous night, his last at the Dayz Inn, in a sort of half sleep, his mind saddled between dreaming and racing with thoughts of wizardry and magic. He knew what Gabby had offered wasn’t precisely the tutelage he’d had in mind, but as his mother always said, a beggar cannot choose between the heel of a loaf or a stale slice. He’d never really understood the expression until now. And the wizard’s offer felt like more a stale slice than anything… But one he could make breadcrumbs with.
Epik placed his few possessions in his closet room and then bounded back down the stairs to where Gabby stood in the shop, still in his purple robe and slippers with his narrow blue veined calves exposed below it.
“I’ll need your first and last month’s rent upfront,” Gabby said. “I’m afraid the bills may be tough going forward. Most of my regulars have left the city.”
“Okay.” Epik handed the wizard the coins, most of what he’d saved in the Bog.
“And you can have anything in the kitchen you like, as long as you replace it—or it doesn’t have my name on it.”
When Epik did look in the cupboard, most everything was labeled with a large G.
Epik took the shop in, this time in the light. Again he felt a bit of disappointment. What had seemed everything he wanted, now just looked like any other shop. He wasn’t sure how to use any of the magical objects, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. But that was what he was here for, he thought.
“Are you going to start training me today?”
“Another question.”
Epik did not protest. And he was careful to phrase his next sentence as a statement. “Tell me more about magic then.”
“Sure, there you go,” Gabby said, itching at his beard. “Some will say you have to be the seventh son of a seventh son or an eighth daughter of an eighth daughter, that sort of thing. But honestly, that’s not true. It helps, but it’s not true. Wives’ tales like that don’t account for many witches or wizards. No, magic hides itself in the back of a mind. In the pit of a stomach. In the lungs. I even had an old acquaintance tell me he felt it in the heel of his foot, but that turned out to be a bone spur. Anyway, the person feels it there, growing, hoping to be let out. And one can either foster it. Or they can…” Gabby trailed off.
Before he could continue, Epik began his argument. “I think… I think I’ve felt that. In the back of my mind. It’s how I came to the city the other night.”
Gabby nodded slightly. “It’s possible. It’s also possible you felt a boy’s dream. They’re two very different things… but can often feel very much alike.”
A pang of despair ran through Epik’s soul; to a halfling, it felt a lot like hunger.
“I know, it’s hard to take in,” Gabby consoled. “But aren’t childhood dreams meant to be squashed? I know mine were. You think I wanted to become a wizard? Run a dusty old shop? Now look, look at the state we’re in—a threat to this kingdom, not many magicians in sight. I may need your help. Even if it’s like you: slight.”
“What’s the threat to the kingdom?”
“Another question. And I’m not sure. Does it look like I have a crystal ball?”
“You do,” Epik said. “There’s one just over there.”
“But I don’t know how to use it. I told you last night about my power.”
“I just thought—”
“We’ll start your training with something ba
sic,” Gabby said. “See that broom there.”
Epik turned to where Gabby pointed. Riding a broom did not sound basic, but Epik was game.
“Use it to get up the cobwebs along the wall and the ceiling.”
“Oh,” Epik said. “But—”
“No more questions.”
Epik worked sweeping the cobwebs off the ceiling for an hour before the shop’s door slid open. The bell on the knob rang, and Gertrude waved, smiling snaggletoothed from the door.
Startled by the sudden ring, Epik slung the broom back against a shelf. He didn’t even notice when he knocked loose a worn and dusty old book, which came crashing down. At first a blur, then his eyes locked onto it, and he ducked, taking only a glancing blow to the side of his skull. The book ricocheted and fell on his large foot after that. He grimaced.
Gabby, who pretended not to have noticed the scene at all, waved at Gerdy at the door.
Gerdy laughed deeply. “See,” she said. “I thought you two would get on nice.”
“Something like that.” Epik sighed.
Dune All-En, like most cities, was planned with good intentions. There were even parts of it that made sense: The main thoroughfares numbered and running south to north and the streets and byways, also numbered, running east to west. But then there were roads cut diagonally, often by chance and happenstance. These too were numbered, so one sometimes found themselves lost, walking along Seventh Thoroughfare at the intersection of 7th and 7th Street.
Lucky for Epik, Gertrude knew her way. They took Fifth Thoroughfare and cut alongside the park, where Gerdy mentioned they could watch the children play—from a safe distance.
“Most of them live in there,” she said. “Behind the trees and the rocks—it’s like their own little world, I imagine.”
“But where are their parents?” Epik pointed his stumpy hand in their direction. Two girls chased after a young boy who’d made off with a sack. He tumbled in the grass, and the girls pounced on him. One took the sack. The other kicked the boy in the ribs for good measure.
Gerdy slapped Epik's wrist. “Don’t do that!” she hissed. “You want them to try to cut your throat again today? No pointing. They take offense to that. Well, they take offense to most things. But it’s especially best not to point.”
Epik noticed the girl with the sack was the same one who’d saved his skin the day prior, Ambrosia, Amber. She looked different with her hair down. It was brown and mousy, every clump of hair a different length.
Gerdy looked different today too. Her black hair pulled into braided pigtails. She looked girlish, even with a few wispy black hairs sprouting from her cheeks. She patted down her skirt, crouching down but peeking up at the children to see if they’d noticed Epik’s audacity. Crumbs sprinkled from the dress to the ground.
Gerdy had taken him to the most amazing pastry shop, all manner of bread, cookies, and tarts, were out on display inside it. Businesses like it dotted the city. Instead of pastry, Epik had found shops that carried meat, or clothing, or cheese. A whole shop full of cheese. And one place called Radio’s Shack sold a hundred different variations of batteries. Though no one knew what batteries were; it seemed bound for bankruptcy.
“They’re the soldiers' kids,” Gerdy said gravely. “Their fathers go off to battle—most never come home.”
“What about their mums?”
“It’s hard enough to feed your own mouth in Dune All-En. A single lady in the city… let’s just say I can only think of a few things that’d pay the wages. And they both require bending over.”
“That’s terrible,” Epik said. He ate a bit of his tart, staring off at them. “Is there lots of war? I haven’t even seen an army.”
“Yeah, they’re always off fighting someone for something.” Gerdy seemed lost in thought too.
“Funny seeing you two here,” a posh voice said behind them.
They turned; Myra strolled along the thoroughfare toward them. She was scantily clad, her skirt barely past her knees. Her shoulders and arms exposed to the hazy morning sunshine.
“No, pretty sure I told you we’d be here last night,” Gerdy said.
“Did ya?” Myra replied haughtily. “Believe I’d’ve remembered.”
Gerdy rolled her eyes.
They stood there for a few more minutes, before setting off to explore more of the city. Myra strolled alongside Epik, and the frills of her skirt blew against his face from time to time, sending a pang of something warm and ticklish down his torso. Past the park, with each step into the city proper, the buildings grew taller, though not exceptionally better looking.
The city was unlike the Bog as was possible. Yet, not. Sure, a fair number of people could fit inside Myra’s big building. And there were so many on the street it was impossible to keep track of faces. But it was as different as Epik had hoped. Humans and dwarves seemed to share more with halflings as they differed.
Myra drew his attention away from the buildings, she was so beautiful. Epik almost forgot Gerdy was even there. She strolled behind them, not talking. Underneath Myra's blonde curls, Epik thought that maybe her ears were a bit pointed. It was hard to see, with her hair pinned in such a way but could she be part elf? Her skin was the right color, a sun-kissed gold. Much different from the pale sallow skin of her father.
“Want to buy me a pastry?” she asked him.
“Sur—“
“No. He doesn’t,” Gerdy said tightly. “He’s a dishwasher Mye. You’ve got your own money.”
“The key to keeping your own money is having others buy things for you,” Myra said.
Again, Gerdy rolled her eyes.
They stopped at a similar looking bake shop; it too was named Panbreada. The two were so similar, in fact, that it looked as if only the location had changed. Myra stepped out with a circular roll, the middle of it cut out.
“Bagel,” she said, holding it to Epik’s nose. It smelled of yeast and poppy seeds.
Further along the path, Epik shielded his eyes to admire an especially modern looking tower. The building had the look of a knight with a pencil sticking out of his helmet, all chrome, sleek and polished.
“Myra lives up there.”
“Yeah,” Myra said with a sigh. She imitated a curtsy “And this is where I say au revoir.”
Epik wasn’t sure what au revoir meant. He thought maybe he’d heard it before but without the harsh V sound and the pronunciation of the R on its end. He guessed she meant goodbye because Myra skipped off and into the building. “Nice seeing you little halfling,” she yelled back.
“So, that’s your best friend?” Epik asked Gertrude. He’d learned enough from Frank Biggle not to gush over one girl to another. Though, it was hard not to.
“She is,” Gerdy said. “The best of.” Gerdy looked back longingly. “It’s just… she’s always… always interjects herself between me and men. Doesn’t matter if he’s as cute as your average walrus. She’ll date a dwarf if I have my eye on him.”
Epik wasn’t sure if he was being compared to a walrus or not. He only took a slight bit of offense. Deep down, he knew Gerdy liked him. The problem was he wasn’t sure he felt the same about her.
“Is she part elf?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t ask her about it though. She’ll go on for days.”
Gerdy sighed, pointing at the chrome building Myra had walked into. “She says she loves it living in Madhattan. Says we should get an apartment of our own together, but I don't think my dad would approve. He likes to have me and Mom close.”
“Oh, I think you and Myra’d get on well,” Epik said absentmindedly. “She’s great.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Gerdy said cynically. “Mye is great, she is.” Gerdy looked down at the love struck halfling. “Not sure she’s the girl for you though.”
“No?” Epik hesitated; he knew he was verging on Frank Biggle territory.
“You ever hear the term heartbreaker before?”
Epik shook his head.
/> “Well, it describes Myra to a T, as they say.”
They walked further along the thoroughfare a while longer, unspeaking, before Gerdy said as if just remembering, “Plus, I’ve seen her room—before the maid gets in. I couldn’t live with her. She’d be leaving dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor. I couldn’t handle that.”
Now the sky was less metal and stone and more blue sky with clouds. They’d crossed into some other sort of neighborhood. Even the people seemed different.
“I always wondered about the names on my map,” Epik said. “So, they’re called boroughs. Six of them?”
“Five,” Gerdy said. “All the places people want to live are Boroughs. Everything else, we just call Jersy.”
“Jersy? Where Gabby lives—where I live?”
“Yeah, so close to the Wall it may as well not be in the city at all. People talk down about it, but it serves its purpose, you know? There by the Wall. Most of where the kingdom fell, ten years ago, was Jersy. That’s the reason Dad and Epiman were able to get the land so cheap—had to rebuild everything on it.”
“Don’t you live in Jersy?” Epik made a guttural sound. He had just finished his tart. The halfling in him hated finishing a meal. It was like the end of a relationship, no matter how good (or bad) it was, there was the sadness of a melancholy song. His stomach sent a bellow of longing for the crumbs still hanging loosely on Gertrude’s skirt.
“No, we live by the brook, don’t we? Right here in Brook Glen, I can show you if you like. Dad says he’d rather part a sea than get stabbed in the back.”
A few children were beginning to make their way up the streets, ducking in and around alleys. Epik watched them warily.
“It’s just this way,” Gerdy said. They walked that way. They talked that way. “See,” she pointed to the castle, “there’s Kings where the palace is, obviously. The Forge is on the other side. There’s a big dwarf population in the Forge. Dad’s always trying to get me to go there with him to buy ale. It’s also where we get our cutlery.”
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