by B J Hanlon
The crowd pushed him down the road. Edin could see the city sprawling out in all directions before him.
Edin glanced around again and felt something run into him from the right.
“Gahh… you wretch… don’t touch me,” The woman yelled.
“I’m sorry,” Edin quickly said lowering his eyes again. He tried to step around when a man blocked his path. He was barely up to Edin’s nose but he stood as if he were twice that. Shoulders back, chin out. “Is he bothering you?” he said in a haughty tone. On his face was a spindly mustache but no beard. He wore a purple top hat and had matching fancy clothes.
“He is,” she spat. “He threw himself at me, trying to feel me up.”
“I would never,” Edin said raising his filthy hands. He looked past the man, saw the docks.
“Gutter rats never learn their place.” The man huffed and pushed Edin so hard, he stumbled back a few feet. Edin was stopped from falling by someone who tried shoving him back.
Edin caught himself before he fell and came up a few feet from the small haughty man. He felt his face flush red and anger roaring through him. Not now…
“Is he going to draw the sword?” the man asked.
Edin looked down and saw his own hand on the cutlass. He didn’t even realize it was there. Edin stood and let his arms down to his side and raised his chin. He couldn’t do this, what he had to, needed to do, was to find Arianne. He sighed and bowed his head.
“Apologies,” Edin said gritting his teeth. He took a step to the side when he saw the man step with him, cutting off his path.
“Not good enough cretin.” Suddenly, he saw the man lift a hand and swing something toward Edin’s face. He knew what it was and was fascinated that it actually happened in the cities. People calling each other out… back where he was from, no such indication of attack was necessary. You just sort of did it…
The glove hit his face with a thwap.
“Blotard,” Edin said and then laughed. He looked into the man’s face, the noble was turning redder, his face scrunched up.
“You call me a blotard? Duel me, scum.”
It was then that Edin noticed there was a rather sizeable circle around the three of them. A circle of human bodies.
“He’s beneath you, Lord Polus,” the woman said, she somehow sounded a bit more uneasy.
“Obviously,” he sneered, “I would simply like to add another notch to my belt.”
A man yelled from the crowd. “He’s not a man whore, Lord Blotard.”
Uneasy laughs came from some of the crowd. Polus and the woman both turned nearly the color of blood. They gaped into the crowd looking for the heckler.
“Are you going to drug him before the fight as well?” another voice yelled. “You like them barely conscious don’t you.”
“Who said that?” Lord Polus shrieked, his voice shriller than Freta’s when a rat, always the size of a cat, appeared in the pantry.
Two others, nobles by the looks of them, stepped out of the crowd, their clothes weren’t as opulent as Polus and neither had the same weird mustache. They all seemed around twenty years in age. The only thing Edin was sure of was that he didn’t want anything to do with them. Hopefully he could slip away before anyone noticed.
“Ten gold on the bum,” one of the men said.
“Lord Sandon,” the lady gasped. “You would bet against one or your own kind… on this thing.”
He laughed, “Polus is more of a rat than this one… look at the beady eyes and pathetic whiskers. It’s a pity you should still be betrothed to him… though we did have our fun, didn’t we?” Sandon winked at the woman.
She shrieked, though oddly not as loud as Polus’.
The garish lord was getting redder. He drew a long rapier and stared at Sandon. “Do you wish to challenge me too? How many times did I defeat you? A hundred, a thousand.”
Polus turned to Edin, his face contorted with anger. He took off his hat and coat that looked to be far too warm for the climate. They were ugly, but like the mustache must have been a fashion choice.
“You will die gutter rat. Draw your weapon.”
“I have no wish to fight,” Edin said stepping backwards.
The noble leaned back in a high serpent stance. He held the blade like he trained his entire life to use it. Polus meant to kill him.
Edin couldn’t let that happen, no matter what. “Arianne,” Edin whispered. He saw her face in his head.
Edin calmed himself from his thoughts and drew the cutlass. Let him get angry, let him make the mistakes.
“A pirate weapon?” Polus snorted. “En garde.”
Edin raised an eyebrow. The noble was quick. He leapt forward from his back foot with surprising speed. The tip of his blade came within an inch of Edin’s throat.
Edin twisted out of the way, but the noble was back thrusting high then low. Edin felt a quick slice to his forearm.
“One point,” Sandon said.
“There are no points,” Polus yelled.
He attacked again.
Edin blocked a few more, ducked and leapt others. He couldn’t even riposte or counter let alone get his own attack in.
The man moved like a predator. The rage in his eyes began building as he couldn’t get past Edin’s guard.
“They move like animals,” a man said, his voice barely reaching Edin over the whirling blades.
Edin stepped inside a wicked slice and reached down. He seized Polus’ wrist in his empty hand, twisted his arm back and punched him in the nose with his sword hand.
Polus fell backward, howling as blood roared down his face.
Sandon and the other noble laughed off to his side. “That’s how you fight.” someone yelled.
Polus faced Edin again blinking and wiping his eyes. After a moment he said. “That’s a cheap shot, you lose a point.”
“There are no points, Lord Blotard,” Sandon yelled.
Edin winked at him and Polus screamed. His voice like a child who was being put down for their nap. He leapt toward Edin in the same manner he had the first time. This though seemed a little more forceful.
Edin parried across his body and crossed his left hand beneath the right to snatch the sword arm again. Polus went to cover his bleeding nose with his off hand.
Edin didn’t go high, he went low and slashed toward Polus’s leg just above the knee.
Polus fell to the road, both of his hands clamped on the deep slash. Blood poured out between the fingers. He cried out in pain as the crowd gasped in near shock.
“Well I’ll be…” Sandon shouted. “He actually won.”
“Healer here… out of my way.” Someone yelled.
“I declare Lord Blotard too unfit to continue. The winner is… what’s your name?” Sandon said looking pointedly at Edin.
He said the first name that came to mind. “Um… Berka.” Why Berka?
“The winner is Master Berka. Unless of course he wishes to take Polus’ life. It is your prerogative as he challenged you...”
Edin looked down at the teary eyed noble and tilted his head slightly, the noble’s jaw quivered. “Not today.”
A groan came from the crowd and they began to part. A pair of guardsmen pushed into the disappearing circle. They wore matching metal skull caps and gray tabards with an intricate design. Some sort of bird with something in its claws, a fish maybe?
“What happened?” one said his eyes boring into Edin.
“Nothing to concern you,” Sandon said. “Go find some pickpockets to lock up.”
“This gutter rat crippled a noble,” the woman shouted. “My betrothed may never walk right again.”
“Is this true?” The guard said.
A second ago he was certain he’d be able to leave. Now, he wasn’t so sure. “He challenged me to a duel,” Edin said. “He even hit me with a glove.”
“A dainty woman’s glove,” Sandon’s friend said. They burst into laughter and Edin felt a grin crossing his face.
“Well… he is a noblem
an, and therefore afforded protections. I’m afraid I will have to bring you to the captain.”
“I disagree,” Sandon said. “If you wish to discuss it further, please remember who authorizes your pay. Young Berka is free to go.”
“What!” The woman howled.
“Shut your mouth woman. You’re barely noble yourself… otherwise your father would’ve been able to get a lot more for you than this slobbering blotard.”
He didn’t know what to say. A part of him felt sorry for Polus, another, the part that knew him as the overconfident bully, did not.
“Master Berka, I offer you a seat at my table on this night.” Sandon had a wicked smile on his face as Polus was being helped to his feet. A bright white bandage wrapped around his leg.
Edin bowed, he knew it was the right thing for the situation. “Thank you, my lord, but I am in a dire search for my friend and I must be off.”
“Hmm… well, if you do find him. Call on my townhouse. It is the Benzir estate in High Garden to the south. I would ask that you clean, shave and maybe get new clothes… you look like a pirate.” He pursed his lips and tossed him a few coins. “Your share of my winnings.” He grinned. There was a wolfish feeling to that grin. Something that didn’t feel entirely safe.
Edin bowed his head. “I will try to make it if I find my companion.”
Sandon grinned again. “I’ve been wanting to do that to Polus for a long time, arrogant little snod. His father’s the best swordsman in Dunbilston…”
The two nobles turned and left without another word. The crowd closed in again, some rushing now, pushing through probably late because of the holdup in the streets. Edin clenched the new gold and touched his own purse, the one from Arianne. That was not a hold up he wanted.
He had to find her and soon. But walking around looking like a beggar could cause more problems.
A sign read ‘Middletown’ about halfway up from the ocean. Edin found a small square with a few shops and an inn.
Edin purchased new clothes from a skeptical salesman at a decent looking establishment using Sandon’s coin. He found an inn simply called The Mason. White stone statues of a man with a hammer and one with a pick guarded the entrance. Inside it was much different than any he’d been in. There were large windows letting in quite a bit of natural light, there were at least forty stone tables with wooden chairs upside down on top of them. A group of three men sat at a corner table, one of them glared at him while cracking his knuckles that somehow echoed like snapping bones.
Behind a long desk sat a beautiful woman, early-twenties if Edin had to guess, with a tight bright yellow dress and thick lips. Her makeup was bright accentuating her high cheek bones. A flow of dark black hair hung loose around her head.
“Room for two nights,” Edin said and then remembered the sword fight in the street. He had to be less inconspicuous. Arianne would understand… he hoped. “and a bath, and shave.”
“We do not cater to the wretched cutthroats,” She sneered looking him up and down.
Edin was shaken, angry at this entire damn town… he clenched his jaw… then took a breath.
“Ma’am, I have just returned from a trek through the wilds, I apologize if my current appearance displeases you, however, I’d been traveling for nearly three months. I have coin, new clothes.” He held out the package from the clothier. “I only require a bath and shave.” Edin shook the coin purse.
The woman eyed it for a moment then went back to him. “You carry a cutlass and dress as a pirate.”
“I’ve never traveled by ship milady,” Edin said. “I took this blade from a pirate.”
“Did ya kill him?” she whispered with a soft but almost excited tone.
Edin nodded, he didn’t have any remorse, though he wouldn’t exactly brag about killing the men. “It was them or me.”
“More than one?” She gasped. “Good enough for me. The room would be on the house if it were up to me… but I can give you the friends and family discount.” She winked. “I’m Heldren if you need anything at all, see me.”
“Thank you,” Edin said.
“I will call the barber and have a bath prepared.” She pressed a bell on the desk. “Pirate’s killed my sister and mother. A bottle of crisp white for your bath?”
“Not today,” Edin said. “I’ll pay extra for expediency.” He needed to get out and find Arianne.
He deposited the sack in the room and went to bathe. It was out back and in a steamy misty room. He could barely see the stone tub with the intricate bronze or maybe gold designs of grape leaves surrounding the rim.
A statue, the image of the god Vipastio, was grinning as he drank what Edin knew to be wine.
He washed quickly with a floral scented bar and left behind a dark circle of dirt, muck and sand.
When he was finished, a gray-haired barber with a perfectly trimmed mustache came in and sat him in a chair that leaned back. He felt the warm metal pulling at his skin. When the man began working on his neck, Edin gripped the arms of the chair so tight, he was sure his knuckles were stark white. He requested his face shaved and a trim of his hair. His beard reached out in every direction like a porcupine.
Edin let his hair loose so it covered much of his forehead. The loose-fitting brown trousers he purchased gave him room to move in a fight. The white tunic and unadorned blue jerkin were simple and made him look like the son of a merchant.
Heldren did a double take when he came back in. He smiled at her and she bowed her head. “Quite the change young hero. If you wish for a dance tonight, please find me.”
Hero? Better than cutthroat or gutter rat. He thought.
The sun was setting when he reached the lower levels of the city. It smelled of fish, rotting meat, tanneries, smoke, and poo. The mixture of choking odors was giving him a pounding headache.
In an alleyway off the main road, he spotted a large cart with prison grates. Inside, cows were penned together like jarred berries. It gave him pause.
Cows in Yaultan ran free in pastures. Treating them like that didn’t feel right. It took an effort to turn away.
Fishmongers still cawed their wares. Burly men, seemingly with no necks, flowed past him carrying barrels, boxes, and sacks that looked far too heavy for a normal person. Women in tight dresses amplifying their bodies walked the streets winking at and chatting with men. Small kids, some couldn’t be older than four, were darting in and out of the throngs of people. They smelled of the gutters and picked at stalls like a bird at its dinner. There were inns, shops, and houses of ill repute that looked a lot seedier than the one he’d seen higher up the street.
Maybe he shouldn’t have cleaned up…
But there was no Blazing Tortoise. Streets were angled and curved with seemingly no pattern to them. it was a maze down here.
A boy about ten or so ran up to Edin, “please sir, I’m hungry.” He held out his hand.
“I have no food,” Edin said.
“Coin would work.”
Edin gripped his purse and pulled it off his belt. The kid’s appearance made him wary of the other little ones running about. He spotted one meandering very close to an overweight man in too fancy of clothing.
The kid, probably six, slipped a small hand up to the man’s belt, a knife blinked out with a twinkling of light. It slashed the purse and spewed coins. The man yelped. Children ran up like carrion birds devouring the spoils.
Edin turned back to the kid who was gaping at the money on the ground. He pulled out a silver, “I’m looking for the Blazing Tortoise.”
The kid eyed it, “tavern row he said licking his lips.”
“Which way?”
The kid pointed over his shoulder but didn’t take his eyes off the coin. “Three streets.”
Edin flipped the coin to the kid and started off in the direction. He spotted more pick pockets, mostly young kids around. Groups of dirty lads, closer to his age hung about the buildings and alleys and the little ones ended up running to them with their
gains. A pair of men eyed Edin as if he were prey. Edin glared back at one of them, a tall lanky boy with a newer jerkin and holey pants. The lad ran his tongue across his teeth and glared back. Then he turned away and said something to his mates. They cawed laughter.
Edin followed the dock for some time being wary of the people around and not caring so much about the actual place.
‘Tavern Row,’ appeared on a sign. It was an actual road and it met the eastern dock at an angle. At that intersection, there was a tringle-shaped building that read ‘Harbormaster.’
Off to his left he saw a fight, three men against four. A glint of blades flashed in the dying sun. There was yelling, insults, and the crashing of blades. People gave them room, but no one stopped them. Not even the pair of guards a few feet away.
The row ended at The Blazing Tortoise. It seemingly popped up in the middle of the street like a gopher in the town square. A fire lit sign showed a frightened turtle with a flame on its back. It was an almost comical drawing that could’ve been done by a child.
Though he could see hints of white in the stone, the building was grayer and pockmarked with crushed rubble leaning against the wall like snowdrifts.
The windows were covered though they couldn’t hold back the sound of the celebration going on inside. It was a mix of excitement, joy and most probably wickedness.
Men lumbered around the outside, one was leaning his head almost in prayer against the drunk’s church. Another laid on the ground seemingly dead only two feet from the door. The door flew open, hit the man and rebounded onto the one exiting. He stumbled back and Edin did his best not to laugh.
Keeping his head down, Edin moved toward the side. He stepped on the remains of a picket fence that laid on the ground as if it had been run over by a wagon. Edin circled the tavern and stepped over other drunks lying around the weed strewn dirt courtyard. At the rear he saw a large outbuilding made of wood and tilting.
Light poured into the yard from the tavern’s rear door. Next to it stood a man puffing on a long pipe. They locked eyes.
“Evening,” Edin said with a nod.
The man just turned his gaze.
Edin glanced past the man into the establishment. There was loud music and the roar of laughter echoing from inside. It was followed by a scream that sent shivers down his spine. A short, darkened hallway ended in a wall of human bodies. A second later the pipe smoker slapped the pipe on his palm and shoved it into his breast pocket.