“Just followin’ our orders. No urchins in the Middle. None enter without a pass, your highness.” The guard who had kicked the child deeply bowed and flourished his arms at his sides. The other swallowed and pressed himself against the wall.
“Who is your superior?” Nyset asked.
“My old lady, I’d say. She’s a bigger pain in my asshole than you, though,” he chuckled.
She scoffed. “You can do your job without hurting them, can’t you?”
“Maybe, not as fun, though.” The pudgy guard snorted then spat on the pace of ground between the two of them. He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Who do you think you are? This cunt thinks she can tell us what to do?” The guards shared in a laugh, the other’s notably softer.
Claw was a blur of rags and Nyset’s eye caught the gleam of his drawn blade.
“No!” she breathed.
The cantankerous guard’s eyes swiveled to Claw as the pommel of his sword smashed into the guard’s face. The guard stumbled back, dropped his spear, and fell, his armor scraping against the wall. He righted himself, shook his head, and rested his hands on his knees.
“You need to learn to show some respect, boy,” Claw said, standing over him. He placed the flat of his blade over his shoulder. He cast his hard eyes at the other guard, who innocently held his palms up, his spear wisely dropped.
Blood streamed from the guard’s cheek and onto his shoulder plate. “You shouldn’t uh done that, you stupid cunts. Earl will hear o’ this, burn you and your heretical lands to the cinders,” he snarled.
“The Earl gave me the lands you… ignoramus!” Ignoramus? Was that really the best she could do? “Now, apologize to these boys for being such a brute.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” the guard sneered with his fat, bloodied lips.
“Hey, I remember these two. Tried to catch ‘em yesterday after trying to rob that lady. Remember, Bryce?”
“Oh yeah, I remember these little bastards…” Bryce rose up and wiped his cheek, putting a line of scarlet on his gambeson.
The boy wrapped his arm tight around Nyset’s leg. “Don’t let ‘em hurt us again, ma’am.”
“Don’t worry—ah!” She winced as something bit into her hip. She looked to her side and saw a line of blood welling out through her heavy pants. Something was missing, but what?
Howling laughter sprung out from the guards. Bryce clutched his protruding gut with both hands.
“What?” Nyset asked stupidly, staring at them.
Claw growled, dashing towards something behind her. She whirled around, saw the boy who had been at her side weaving into the crowd, her belt flapping from his hand. Bright herbs spilled from her pouches, bathing the mud in blues and oranges.
“Damn it!” she hissed. “Hold him!” She threw her horse’s lead rope to the guards and bolted after Claw. She collided into a man of vast bulk and bounced from his enormous arm. Dried mud crusts fell into her hair and tumbled down the front of her shirt. She recovered her footing and spun around someone else. Her eyes were frantic, locking onto Claw’s bouncing hair. Should’ve listened to the guards. Too cavalier, too arrogant. So high and mighty. Stupid girl!
“Move, move!” she shouted, pushing her way through dirty people throwing her curious eyes. She hardly twisted in time to avoid tripping an old woman clutching a basket of eggs. There wasn’t much on her belt of notable value except for her Breden short sword. She wouldn’t have even bothered giving them chase if it weren’t for that. It was the last thing she had that still connected her to home.
Claw cut a diagonal across the road and she saw the boy dart into an alley behind a row of shanties. She bumped into someone else. “Sorry,” she said through gritted teeth. She ran in a sharp angle, aiming to intersect with Claw at the alley. An old man cursed at her and a woman yelped.
She got to the alley first, Claw a second after.
“You well?” he asked.
“Fine, just a small cut,” she breathed.
A patchwork of colored fabrics were pulled over the tops of the shanties and secured to the wall on the other side, casting the alleyway in garish colors and deep shadows. Huddled shapes of people intertwined protruded from wooden boxes and under blankets riddled with holes.
Someone groaned and a head turned to look at her. She met a white eye wrinkled with irritation. A mangy cat crept from a shadow and pounced on a plump rat and bit into its neck. The man who had met her eyes grinned at the cat, then dove for it, arms out in a poor attempt to throttle it. The cat screeched and leapt, then trotted off with its prize squirming from its jaws. A few glass bottles clattered across the cobbles. The man groaned, sighed, body outstretched across the path.
“This way, Mistress.” Claw nodded into the alley.
“Go on, then,” she beckoned. She felt better knowing he was going in first.
He stepped over the would-be cat murdered and she followed, watching for any reaching hands. The man laid there, sobbing or laughing, it was hard to tell which. The space felt tight around her and the air had a grim heaviness to it. It wasn’t the stink of refuse and urine that made her feel that way, but what — she wasn’t sure.
The alleyway didn’t travel far, going on for about five minutes before coming to a dead end. He was easy enough to find by following the trail of spilled herbs, bright against the gloomy earth. She eyed the boy clutching her belt across his torso near the end, his body glowing in a shaft of light. Not the brightest child, she thought.
Claw stopped, growling like a wolf to prey, his knuckles white with pressure.
“Please, let me.” She put her restraining hand on his shoulder. The more she thought about it, the more she realized he was much more like a dog, and not the nice kind, than she wanted to admit.
Claw let out a soft growl and nodded with resignation. His fingers uncurled. It was as if she’d just stolen his kill. She’d have to show him violence wasn’t always the solution. She wouldn’t deny the need for violence, but it left unnecessary wreckage behind.
“Hey there, boy. How are you?” she said, slowly drawing nearer to him. She hunched down, trying to do her best to make herself look less imposing.
“Go away!” he snapped.
“Well, no. I can’t do that since you have something of mine. Gave me a nasty cut, you know?” Nyset looked down at it, mostly clotted now, a gooey red trickle on her thigh.
The child huffed and wrapped his arms around her belt. “It’s mine now. Go away or I’ll cut you again,” he said, eyebrows drawn down.
The shadows to her left shifted and something stirred. A woman’s face came into the light, her skin covered in sores and hair standing out in every direction. “What’s this? What’s going on? Who are you?” she stammered, looking at Nyset.
“Sorry for the disturbance, just trying to retrieve an item that was stolen from me.” She gestured to the boy.
The woman fully came into the light, squinting with beady eyes from her to the boy. “That’s yours?”
Nyset nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
The woman raised her sinewy arm up, sneered, and gave the boy a vicious slap across the face. “Did you steal that? Are you stealing from people again? What did I tell you, you little bastard! Brought you into this world n’ every day make me want to take you out of it.” She slapped him again on the other cheek and the boy yelped, then started uncontrollably crying.
“Did you hear me? That was a question!” she shrieked in the boy’s face. She kicked him in the thigh. “Answer me, damn you! Did you steal that from her?”
Nyset swallowed and felt a sliver of the misery the child must’ve felt creeping through her guts. She was starting to wonder if this was a bad idea. She turned to look back at Claw to find him peering up at the colored fabrics making up the sky above. How could he switch himself off to this?
“Ya-ya-yes. I stoled it. I stoled it from the lady!” the child sobbed.
Nyset was going to tell his mother to stop hitting him but decided it was w
iser to hold her tongue.
“Give it back to the young lady! And go say you’re sorry.” The woman pointed at her.
The child’s face scrunched up and tears washed clear lines through the mud on his cheeks. He shuffled over to her, staring at his feet, and handed her the cut belt.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” Nyset connected the cut halves with a knot on her waist.
“A-Aris,” he said through sobs.
Nyset glanced at Aris’s mother, standing with arms crossed and scowl permanently affixed to her lips.
“Aris, would you like to come work for me at the Silver Tower?”
“Huh?” His eyes bulged out.
“Well—” Nyset’s eyes flicked to her mother, seeing her expression softening. “I’m the Arch Wizard of the Silver Tower and… I’d like to offer you a job. I see a certain industriousness in you. It won’t pay much, five marks a day.”
“Five marks!” he squeaked.
Claw grunted in a tone she had learned was disagreement.
“Yes, but you’ll have to work for it. The Silver Tower is actually just a house now, which needs cleaning. You’ll sweep the floors, dust the shelves, pick up trash, help with other tasks we need done. On one condition, though…” She smiled.
“Yeah? What? I’ll do it, I swear.” Aris clasped his hands together, pleading.
“No more stealing of any sort, cutting belts, purses, or robbing people. You understand? You’ll work for everything.”
“I understand.” He enthusiastically nodded. “No more stealing.”
“Good. You know where we are?”
“Mhm. I do.”
“Come tomorrow at dawn and we’ll get you started.”
“Wow! Did you hear that, Mom?” The boy ran back to her and hugged her side.
Nyset turned and started down the alleyway, Claw trailing behind. They had walked for a minute or two until footsteps approached from behind.
“Excuse me, uh, Arch Wizard, ma’am,” Aris’s mother said. She bit her lip and a piece of food clung to the side of her chin.
“Yes?” Nyset said. “You’ve got something here.” Nyset brushed her own face to show her where.
The woman’s cheeks reddened and she brushed it off. “Uh, thank you. You were sure about the work offer for Aris? T’wasn’t just to pacify the boy?”
“No, it’s a true offer. Of course. I know it’s not much, but thought it might help…”
“Oh,” she said quietly, then burst into tears. “No one’s ever tried to help us before.”
Nyset looked to Claw, who looked at her and shrugged. Nyset didn’t really want to get any closer to her, given the putrid scent of fish billowing out from her, but it was the right thing to do. Nyset hugged her and held her breath. The woman’s arms wrapped her up in a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you,” the woman said, turned and shuffled back down the alley.
Nyset watched her go, wanting to do more, but she knew she couldn’t help everyone. The Tower was far too stretched as things were. There was also the persistent issue of the marks she had to come up with for paying Scab.
“The days never bore, Mistress,” Claw snickered.
“Indeed, my friend.”
Chapter 10
The Earl
“Worshiping the gods is easy. There are no places of worship, no special rituals. Your worship exists solely in your mind.” -The Diaries of Nyset Camfield
Dirt Ring had become a place of bustle and noise, stalls filled with people of every shape, size and color. Scales rattled and beaded calculators clattered as prices were screamed above the throng. Livestock bayed, mooed, and grunted as they were herded past. The air was heavily scented with strong spices, a cook poorly disguised the choking smell of his rotting meat. Between the muddy paths were heaps of dung, at least a week’s worth, soon becoming one with the mud.
They passed a stall selling salt in a variety of colors from pink to black. Another bearded man hocked long rolls of cloth in purple, blues, reds, and greens. A woman brandished a carved wooden tree bearing tens of polished belt buckles, screaming their very reasonable prices. They passed a table of stinking fish, heavily salted, their glossy eyes wide with terror.
Nyset and Claw made their way back to the gate leading into the Middle. The prior guards must have finished their shift as a new pair had replaced them. Her horse was thankfully still there. Her lead rope was looped over the pole of what she guessed might have been a fence before enduring years of neglect, leaving only the poles standing. The mare pawed at the ground and snorted when Nyset approached.
“There, there. You’re alright, aren’t you?” Nyset came up to the horse’s side, grabbed the lead rope, and rubbed her neck. She looked well, a little anxious perhaps, but that was understandable.
“Mistress.” A wiry guard nodded at her and turned to make room for her to pass. Apparently some people still respected the Silver Tower. It was a welcome relief.
The other guard reluctantly got out of the way to let them pass. Nyset walked the mare through the portcullis.
“Enjoy the afternoon, Mistress,” the wiry guard said pleasantly.
Nyset leaned back and stretched her arms out overhead. The sun was muted and the light misty as it passed through a layer of thick clouds.
The Middle was much narrower than Dirt Ring, as the modest houses took up most of the space between the walls, leaving just enough road for two carts to pass side by side. The roads were loosely packed cobbles, worn flat over the years. They were clean enough, with little refuse trailing along the edges of the arcing road. The stone walls had a fine veneer of stucco, giving them a softer appearance than the chiseled blocks in Dirt Ring.
What was most notable about the Middle was the thinning out of the people. The roads were less packed and yielded enough room to see farther than the next man’s back. She noticed they walked with purpose and determination here, not with the drudgery that seemed to stain the faces in Dirt Ring. People enjoyed their lives here, she thought. The dichotomy struck her then. How could they live so happily while people struggled just to acquire food and shelter on the other side of the wall? Perhaps it was easier to turn a blind eye to it with such high walls. There would be no missing the guards at the gates to the Middle though.
Blacksmith’s hammers sang on armor and echoed over the walls. The sweet scent of fresh bread occasionally touched her nose, filling her mouth with saliva. When had she last eaten? A group of men stood in a circle before a cart selling skewered meats, lost in spirited conversation.
Most of the denizens who lived here were born here. Some had managed to scrape enough marks together to escape Dirt Ring, but they were few, her assistant Vesla had told her. Vesla had grown up here and fled to the Tower to escape Dirt Ring and to build a better future. She had served as a splendid resource for getting a better understanding of the people here.
A crier waved to passersby shouting, “Get the news here, just one mark for the news from the west!” People passed him by as if he were invisible, some even using energy to toss him a scowl. Nyset supposed the people who’d made it here kept their purse strings tightly closed to remain at their station.
A strumpet with hair red as blood walked up to Claw with a smooth sashay of her wide hips. She started to place long fingers on the back of his neck, hesitated for a split-second, then rested them on his scruffy neck. “Hey handsome, want to take me?”
Claw’s jaw hung open and his fingers curled. “Take you where?” He croaked through a throat sounding as if in sudden need of water.
“Only thirty marks for a night with me.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m willing to do anything.”
Nyset reached out and peeled the woman’s silky hand from the back of Claw’s neck. “Please go away. We don’t need your services.”
“Um.” Claw’s cheeks were pinked.
“There’s no need to be rude.” The strumpet smiled weakly. “We could do a two for one deal. Forty-five marks and I’ll tak
e on the two of you. I know how to work a young lady proper. Got lots of stamina.” The strumpet flicked her circling tongue at Nyset.
A laugh spilled from Nyset’s lips. “No, no, we couldn’t. We’re much too busy, thank you.” Nyset thought of the woman’s long fingers between her legs and wondered how it might feel. She felt her face fill with hammering blood. No, that wasn’t her at all. How could she possibly be thinking like this? She loved Walter and would save herself for him. Though life was about exploring the unknown, wasn’t it? She felt an unexpected wetness against her smallclothes.
“You sure? You’re lookin’ quite pleased at the prospect.” The strumpet licked her lips. Her eyes wandered from Nyset’s chest down to her groin.
“No!” she snapped. It was much harsher than she’d wanted.
The strumpet shrugged. “Gave you something to think about, didn’t I? Consider that free of charge.” She winked at Nyset, then Claw. She wiggled her way to a man packing a tobacco pipe against the wall.
Nyset turned her attention back to the crier. She had to stay focused on what mattered now. “Want to hear the news?” she asked.
“Not really,” Claw said, his voice sounding relieved. “Just more useless noise.”
“It’s not noise. It’s important to stay informed, Claw. You need to know what’s going on in the world to make better decisions.”
“I find… it easier to think with less. When I read, it corrupts my thoughts with the writer’s views, so I no longer read. The goings on of the realm are like clouds passing overhead.” He looked up. “Here now, gone tomorrow. Useless.”
Nyset scoffed. “Don’t read? Couldn’t imagine a life without books. Well, I’m going to get the news. Hold her for me?” Nyset handed Claw the horse’s lead rope and he opened his hand to take it.
A New Light (The Age of Dawn Book 5) Page 19