Kierza put the necklace back on. They sat quietly together for a long while. “I miss you.” said Kierza at last. “Sometimes I wish we still lived together. Like we used to.”
Chazod frowned. “Why would you wish that? You got it made up there on the hill.”
“Because you’re my brother.” she said. “And no matter what, family should love each other.”
Chazod huffed. “Sounds like something Callad would tell you.” He frowned. “You shouldn’t love me. I used to beat you up and whore you out.”
“It’s in the past.” said Kierza. She stroked the deep, brown hair from his face and looked him in his eyes. “Sell that dagger. Get out of here and be happy.”
Chazod looked away. “Do you think it can be better for me somewhere else? I’ll always have this slave brand. And no matter how nice the Venzis are to you and your boyfriend, you’ll always have that brand too. And your face will never be whole. You were just a baby, but I have some memories of our home in Dimethica. I remember Ma and Pa always too afraid to leave the house; all the soldiers out in the streets.” He huffed. “In Jerusa they starve you. In Penatallia they torture you. In Dimethica you’re a prisoner in your own home. There is nowhere to be happy. Not for people like us.”
“There’s always hope.” said Kierza.
Chazod chuckled, still looking down at the ground. “Remember when Grandon used to let Maybelle take us to church?”
Kierza made a little smile. Maybelle was one of Grandon’s maidservants who used to tend the children he owned. “I do.”
“I remember Father Gerold once told us that above the gates of Hell hung a sign that read ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter here’.” He looked at Kierza. “Do you wanna know what I think? I think we live in Hell, and all hope was long lost.”
“You shouldn’t say such things,” said Kierza. “There is always hope.”
“Hoping is like wishing, but without knowing it’s just a dream.” said Chazod. He smiled at her. “Growing up with Grandon Faust doesn’t leave a lot of room for delusion.”
Kierza sighed. “There is always hope, Chazod.” she said. “Even for you.”
Chazod laughed. “Even for me? I don’t—”
The clamor of bells cut through the air and Chazod and Kierza locked eyes. “The Sisters,” said Kierza. She stood up.
Chazod remained seated. “So?”
“We have to go!” urged Kierza.
“They won’t come by here.” said Chazod. “They’ll stick to the north side of town. Trust me, you’re safer here than at home. They won’t want anything to do with this dump. Come on, sit with me.”
Kierza shook her head. “I promised I’d come home right away.”
“Suit yourself,” said Chazod.
“Well, aren’t you going back home?”
“Like I said, they won’t come to this part of town.” said Chazod. “You can come upstairs to my place if you want.”
Kierza shook her head. “I promised I’d come home.” She didn’t say it, but if Nyal was upstairs she wanted nothing to do with his apartment. All her memories of Nyal were tainted with sickening acts. He was violent and a drunk. And more importantly, he was too big and too strong for even Chazod to handle nowadays.
Chazod stood up. “I’ll see you off then. But believe me, you’re safer here than back home.”
Chazod walked Kierza through the alley. Back in the light of day Kierza couldn’t help but notice the streets quickly emptying. Even the ladies from the brothel across the way had gone inside.
Kierza leaned in and kissed her brother on the cheek. “I’ll come by in a couple weeks, okay?”
Chazod nodded. “See ya, sis.”
From the shadows of the alley Chazod watched Kierza run off down the road. He smiled. She looked so much like Ma with those honey-brown locks of hers. He breathed deep, contemplating going inside, but even he didn’t feel like dealing with Nyal right now. He had a fight this afternoon and really just wanted some time alone. Plus, he liked sitting on that old bench.
He turned back into the alley and saw two men standing there. One was a largish, fatish man with greasy, gray hair and a droopy eye. He wore dirty, travel-worn clothing and Chazod couldn’t help but notice the sap the man held in his plump hand. The wooden baton was painted black but had obviously been well-used based on the amount of chipped paint on it. The other man was more ominous. He was a tall, lanky, pale-faced specter in black leather with hair as dark as the shadows around him. His icy-blue eyes fell upon Chazod, blood-red lips quivering before curling into a frightening smile. For some reason Chazod thought of vampires.
Chazod froze in his tracks, his hand falling upon the handle of his sword. He noticed that the tall man in black held a silver dagger in his hand. “I’m a fighter.” said Chazod. “A damn good one, too.”
The tall man giggled and hopped on his feet. The fat one smacked the sap against his hand a couple times.
“Suit yourselves, assholes.” The sword hissed from its scabbard as Chazod drew it.
“You don’t want to fight us.” spoke the pale, vampiric man. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just give up?”
Chazod’s sword clanged upon the street. He shook his head, suddenly realizing he had dropped it. “What the fuck?” He never dropped his sword. How could he have been so clumsy? He picked it up as quickly as he could, but by the time he looked back up, the brute with the sap was on him. Chazod felt a dull thud atop his skull. Stars flashed. He tried to scream but another, more painful blow landed on the side of his head. Before everything went black Chazod heard the fat man grumble in a slightly slurred voice, “Come on, Rennic, this is enough. We don’t want to get caught.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
As Rook wove his way through the back alleys, leading Bones on a leash, he adjusted his slave bracelet so that it sat over the black sleeve of his shirt. The more prominently it shone, the less likely one of the city guards would stop to question him. The guards hated seeing bracelets obscured by clothing and Rook liked to make himself appear as innocent as possible, especially because he was carrying far more crowns than his bracelet allowed for. Generally the guards were cordial with him, but there was always the possibility of encountering the guards who truly enjoyed the power and authority their station provided them, and these were the ones Rook always had to be wary of. And carrying as much coin as he had on him now would certainly make an encounter with one of these not-so-friendlies rather dangerous today.
Rook didn’t like lying to Callad or Sierla about the amount of money he paid Diotus, and he knew they had their suspicions. After all, it was no secret to them that he knew how to read and write and do math—things they didn’t even know. Still, Rook knew that they really had no idea how incredibly wealthy he had made Diotus over the last few years since he started selling his Everlight weapons and armor.
Wanting to get his errands done as quickly as possible, Rook hurried Bones down the back-alleys. Taking the main roads would be less suspicious if he happened upon one of the guardsmen, but there would be a greater chance of getting stopped for idle chat by familiar faces. He took care to skirt around the town square where the golden statues of the Sisters stood, and eventually emerged upon a long, straight road paved with older bricks. Diotus’s apothecary shop was just down the way in a crude part of the city not quite bad enough to be considered part of Ragtown. The road was lined on either side by small but stately buildings of hewn stone. Most were homes to the middle-class, though a few of the more imposing structures were taverns and brothels. In the distance, from the richer part of town, the gothic spires of the church could be seen poking above the red, tiled roofs around it.
Rook kept to the sidewalk, ushering Bones on with the leash. For such a beautiful, warm day, there were few people out in the streets. Rook passed only a couple riders and a handful of townsfolk stroll
ing the avenue. At one intersection he stopped in the shadows of a tall inn and waited for a patrol of three guardsmen to go by. Unfortunately, before Rook could make the final block to Diotus’s shop, he was greeted by a familiar face across the road.
“Ho, Rook, my lad!” cried Ralf. The red-haired man was waving a giant hand at him, smiling ear to ear.
Rook sighed. He scanned up and down the road but didn’t immediately see any guards or other familiar faces, so he decided to indulge Ralf for a moment. “Come on, boy.” Rook tugged the leash and led Bones across the street.
Ralf was a pudgy and likable man, if a bit slow. He wasn’t the cleanest looking person on the street in his mismatched outfit, but he was far from the dirtiest. He wasn’t a slave, just a poor man from Ragtown trying to make an honest living. Ralf peddled stale scraps of bread and pastries from the bakery at the Northside Market. He bought the leftovers for pennies and sold them here and in Ragtown for not much more than that.
“Rook! Rook!” cried Ralf, his whole body jiggling as he excitedly held high a fragment of brown bread. “Rye today!”
Rook strode up to Ralf and Bones sidled up next to him, wagging his tail frantically. “Hey Ralf.”
“Can I feed your puppy?” asked the man excitedly. He reached down and Bones began rubbing his snout up and down his hand and licking his fingers.
“Sure. But first let me take that rye off your hands.” Rook smiled and slipped Ralf a gold crown for the stale bread.
The big man’s eyes went wide as he stared at the coin, and then at Rook.
Rook laughed and patted Ralf on the shoulder. “Consider it a gift my friend. Buy yourself something nice.”
Ralf smiled and pocketed the coin. Then Rook handed him back the bread and told him to go ahead and feed it to Bones. He knew he’d get the full value of the gold crown just watching Ralf. Rook smiled with some amusement as the big man broke off chunks and fed them to the dog, giggling as the beast’s tongue lapped at his fingers. Then Rook’s attention was broken as a woman called out to him.
He turned and saw a lady in an older blue dress and matching veil waving to him from down the road. She had a couple young boys with her and they followed behind as she rushed over to him. Rook raised a hand and waved to her. “Hello, Val.”
Val came up to Rook and gave him a quick hug as Ralf continued to feed scraps of bread to Bones. Her two little boys huddled behind her legs, meekly peeking out at Rook before their attention was captured by the dog.
Rook smiled at them. “Go on, you can pet him.”
The two children brightened and crouched next to Bones. They patted his head and rubbed his ribs as the dog continued scarfing down all the bread Ralf had to offer.
“I just wanted to thank you for helping my husband.” said Val. “Aeoria bless you.”
“It was nothing. Really.” said Rook. “How’s his leg doing?”
“It’s healed already.” said Val. “He’s back to work, but… but we don’t know how to repay you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” said Rook.
“But, you’re just a slave. And to help us the way you did…”
He took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes. “We’re all together in this world. We all need to look out for each other. Slaves or not.”
“I know,” said the woman. “But if you hadn’t been there… or bought us the medicine…”
A few weeks ago Rook was out running errands. There had been an accident with a wagon and Val’s husband’s leg got caught beneath it. Rook helped get the man up and brought him to Diotus for medicine and care. Like much of the middle-class here in Bellus, they had a decent home and a decent life, but extra money was nonexistent. Rook gave her a warm smile. “I’ll tell you what. Come by next week with your husband and I’ll have him help me polish up some armor and you can teach my girlfriend how to bake a proper cookie.”
Despite the veil Rook was sure he could see her smile. “We will,” she said. “And, Aeoria bless you. Rook, you really are—”
“You there!” called a voice that even gave Ralf pause. The big man’s knees cracked and popped as he stood. Val’s little boys tucked themselves behind her dress and Rook turned around.
It was one of the city guards. More importantly, it was one of the not-so-friendly city guards. He was in a suit of steel armor too old and scratched to be properly shined. He had no helmet and his brown eyes were locked on Rook. On his left breast was painted the city crest of Bellus and on the right the crest of Narbereth. At his waist hung a sword in a scabbard. Around his shoulder was strapped a rusty bolt-thrower and he held it in one hand as he came up to them. “Bracelet.” he demanded.
Rook sighed and held out his left arm. Bones began barking and Rook shortened the leash and held it tightly, keeping the dog close. The guard grabbed his wrist and twisted forcefully as he inspected the charms on it.
“It’s okay,” said Val. “I was just asking him a question. He wasn’t causing any problems.”
The guard ignored her and grabbed Bones’ leash and handed it to Ralf. “Get this mutt away from me.” he said, pushing Ralf away.
“Y-Y-Yes sir. O-O-Okay, I will.” said Ralf, leading the dog a few steps away.
“How many crowns do you have on you?” asked the guard as he began patting Rook down.
“One-hundred-and-ninety-nine.” said Rook, unslinging the leather bag from his shoulder.
The guard snatched it from his hand and opened it up. Inside were the gold crowns Rook had told Callad he was bringing, but he really hoped the guard wouldn’t pat him down any further.
“It’s okay, really,” said Val. “He wasn’t—”
“Shut-up.” snapped the Guard, shoving the bag back into Rook’s hands. “Whose quick-hound is that? It’s not declared on your bracelet.”
Rook sighed. A dog didn’t have to be declared on a bracelet. This guy was just in the mood to harass him. “I was bringing him back to Gabidar Notaro. He’s a wealthy merchant over in the warehouse district. It’s his dog. He won’t be too happy if you—”
The guard grabbed Rook’s arm forcefully and began leading him across the sidewalk.
“Come on,” said Rook. “I’m just trying—“
The guard slammed him against the brick wall of a building and began patting him down again. This time his hand began squeezing at his right pocket. “What’s this?”
Rook swallowed. It was the Golothic. He brought it with him everywhere. “It’s nothing. It’s just a—”
“Hey, Dontis! Leave him alone!”
With his face pressed forcefully against the wall it was all Rook could do to strain his eyes over to see Blake jogging up. Blake was one of the more cordial guardsmen and was in a rather nice suit of steel armor that Rook had made him a while back. Like the other guard’s armor, it had the two official crests on it, but on the right pauldron was stamped Rook’s mark: the raven and the Golothic, though most people just thought it was a raven and a hand. It was a mark he put on everything he made, even the broadsword that Blake carried.
Dontis let up on Rook and turned to face Blake. “You know him? He’s carrying undeclared items. I say we take him in.”
Blake came up and put his hand on Dontis’s shoulder and made something of a show for Rook by whispering loudly into his ear, “Yes, I know who this is. More importantly, don’t you?”
The guard’s face sagged with anxiety as he looked at Blake. “Am… am I supposed to?”
“I know you’re new here, but come on, this here is Rook Gatimarian!” said Blake.
Dontis looked at Rook. “He’s just a slave.”
Blake winked at Rook and then cleared his throat and whispered more loudly into Dontis’s ear, “Rook Gatimarian. The one who makes all those Everlight weapons and armor for the nobles.”
“Oh,” the guard looked at Rook and suddenly the lights se
emed to flicker on in his mind.
Blake put his hand to his mouth and said right into Dontis’s ear, “Don’t go messing with the blacksmith all the nobles are talking about. You’ll get on their bad-side.”
“Oh, well, in that case…”
“I’m actually in the process of making a sword for Lord Anubeth of Voluptas.” said Rook, brushing himself off. “He’s already paid the ten-thousand crown price in full. I was on my way to get some materials. It’s a good thing for you that Blake came by. I don’t think Lord Anubeth would have appreciated not getting his sword on time because of an over zealous guard.”
“Oh, um, I’m sorry to have—”
“Don’t worry about it.” said Rook. He looked at the guard and smiled. “Just be nicer to people in the future. You never know who you’re dealing with.”
Dontis nodded. “I’m very sorry.”
“Hey,” said Rook. “You look like you could use some new armor. How about you come by in a couple weeks and I’ll fit you for a new suit. Promise to lay off us lowly slaves and I’ll make it for you for free.”
Dontis’s mouth began flapping but no words came out.
Blake slapped the man on the back. “See, I told you Rook was okay.” He gave Rook another wink. “Come on, Dontis, we got preparations to make for the Sisters’ arrival.”
“Are they coming for certain?” asked Rook.
Dontis nodded. “Supposed to be here sometime this morning yet.” He cleared his throat. “I’m… I’m really sorry. It’s just, we’re supposed to have all the streets in order for their arrival. Did… did you really mean it about the armor?”
Rook stepped up to him and looked him up and down. “Yeah, I think I can get you into something much nicer.” He looked the man in the eyes. “But I mean it. Treat people with more respect. We’re all just trying to make it in this world, right?”
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