Soon the boy was in a secluded narrow street where he paused for a moment to catch his breath, looking back to see if he was pursued, one hand on his small hammer, but not thinking to look up in the sky and see an uncommon bird tracking his progress. After a few seconds of rest, where he continuously checked over his shoulder for pursuit, the boy continued his journey through the streets of the Step, seemingly sure of his path. Soon he was out of the narrow streets and back by the water’s edge. The boy paused as he assessed two different bridges, one that led over to the Isle of the Sanctum and the other that led to the Isle of Flowers. Motega guessed correctly the one he would take, over to Flowers, and not to the place where all the city guard were going to assemble shortly.
Suddenly the boy started running again. Motega couldn’t be sure if something spooked him or if it was just that he had his destination in sight. The boy turned and headed over the wide wooden bridge to the Ladders. Arse. The Ladders was the kind of place that made the Narrows in Kingshold look like a summer retreat. They tried to stay out of its dangerous warren of wooden walkways and poorly constructed buildings. So did the guard for that matter. The Ladders was almost a separate city within Ioth. It didn’t have any of the gas lamps that the rest of the city was well known for, which was probably a blessing given how often one of those tower buildings fell down. The last thing that place needed was more open flames.
But unfortunately, there was nothing for it, he needed to follow where the lad was going. Per swooped down over the boy’s head, some other inhabitants of the Ladders noticing his flight, and took a perch on the wooden railing of one of the tall buildings where he could observe the boy’s passage. He weaved his way through the people that were ignoring the festivities, up the rising platform of the Promenade, until he reached a ladder that led downward. The boy swung a leg round the secured ladder and descended into the dark. Double-arse.
Per dived off the railing and plummeted down, his wings tucked back as he would when diving for prey, a similar rush of adrenaline running through him. The world was a blur, stories of the tower building flashing by, only noticeable by the repeating lines of wooden gantry; Per pulled up out of the dive once he’d passed by the Prom. The boy paused on the ladder and turned around; he must have felt the rush of air as the falcon sped by. A kit of pigeons leapt up into the air in a flurry of feathers and Motega had to remind the falcon that it was not time to eat, though he knew that Per would be back later now that he knew where there was such easy prey. Per circled underneath the wooden floor of the Prom, audible sounds of footsteps above, until he found a place to rest and observe the boy. Per didn’t really enjoy being anywhere the open sky was not above him, but Motega had seen him deal with more confined spaces before. Even when they’d been crypt diving in the past, the falcon had proven to be useful.
The boy now held his hammer in his hand, watchful of the dregs of Ioth’s humanity who spent time here in the dark places of the Ladders. Smart boy. He walked hurriedly through piles of refuse until he came to a dirty wooden door. He rapped a knock and a few moments later, he was ushered inside; an older man poking his head out of the doorway to see if he had been followed.
That must be the place. Hopefully a meeting room of the Devoted, and not just a shit-house bar. There was only one way to find out.
Back at the parade route, Motega opened his eyes.
Chapter 36
In the Face of Oppression
While the city was preparing for the Wintertide festivities, Toad and the rest of his chapter of the Devoted were busy too. More signs went up around Ioth, and though he didn't know what the symbols meant, he was certain that they were pleading with the people to reconnect with their god. While the very same people rushed around buying delicacies to eat and much wine to consume, Toad was happy to spend his time with his new family of like-minded souls and enjoy the simple suppers they shared.
Toad loved those evenings. Learning at the feet of Shep’d; joining the chorus in song. He was also glad to see that Marn enjoyed it there too in the gloomy old warehouse. But then again, she seemed to enjoy herself all the time anyway. While Toad was running around the city, she played with the friends she had made in the rooms near their own. Playing with dolls on the gantry. Chasing each other around.
One day he'd come back and finally knew what his mother had meant when she told had him that he’d be the death of her; there had been Marn, along with the boy next door, who Toad was sure was a bad influence, walking on the edge of the gantry on the wrong side of the railing. He’d given her such a shouting once she was safe that she'd actually cried. He’d felt a little ashamed at his outburst as she curled up in his arms to sleep that night, but he hadn’t apologized. He didn’t think that was the right thing to do if he was the parent now.
But he couldn’t complain. Marn was a good little girl, and no matter how she passed her time during the day, she was always near their room by the time he came back from whatever jobs Shep’d had given him. Thankfully, just the other day, when it was the Blessing of the Sea, the preacher had given him the day off and told him to go and see the Saint. He’d known that Toad had been desperate to see the boy avatar of Arloth since he’d arrived in Ioth, and so Toad had jumped at the chance.
Marn had gone with him, Toad not letting go of the tight grip he had on her hand as they weaved their way through the crowds. They’d managed to get a good spot on a bridge as the Saint led the procession of boats out onto the sea. Seeing the boy who was the Saint had been amazing! He was just three or four summers older than Toad, and even though he hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes, the image had stayed with him the rest of the day. When he and Marn had curled up once again to go sleep, he dreamed that one day that might be him. If he was good enough. If he was devoted. Why wouldn’t Arloth choose him?
The next morning when he’d awoken and headed down the ladders to their dark little chapel, things were different. People were talking about an attack at a party of the rich rulers of Ioth. Toad couldn’t help but smile that maybe Arloth had finally seen fit to smite those who had strayed from the true path. But as he parted with a hard-earned penny for an apple for breakfast, bruised and past its best, the peddler had told him that the Devoted were being blamed. He warned Toad to stay away from them, because there was sure to be trouble. Taking the apple, Toad had run to Shep’d, not wanting to believe it and without any intention of abandoning his new family. Family had to stick together.
Others of their congregation were there too, talking over each other as they asked the preacher what was happening, what should they do? Shep’d had hushed them all to calm before he spoke.
“Do not believe these lies,” he had said. “The corrupt who have infected Ioth are those who whisper these falsehoods. This is but a test of our faith, and we must not be found wanting.”
He had sent them out onto the streets to preach the good word. For every soul that they could save, that they could bring to the way of the truly devoted, they would be rewarded tenfold in the future. Toad had accompanied Echa, Maho, Felis, and a few others to one of the bridges that crossed over to the Sanctum. They rang their little bell and took it in turns to call out the wisdom of the First Saint to the misguided citizens of Ioth.
Toad noticed how jumpy the grown-ups were. They kept looking over their shoulders and weren’t as loud and clear in their preaching as they normally were. But Toad wasn’t afraid. When it was his turn, he’d stood on a stone wall and called out the story of the First Saint that he had listened to just a few nights before. He’d listened to that parable many times in the past in Carlburg, but when Shep’d had told the lesson, it had been so much more… alive. And so he had tried to match the tempo and timbre of the preacher.
Unfortunately, the others had been quiet for a reason. Toad’s full-throated calls attracted a pair of guardsmen who wandered over, thankfully calling out their intention to arrest them by shouting “Stop there!”. They of course did nothing of the sort. All of them ran in dif
ferent directions, even poor old Felis with his bad foot and all. Eventually they made it back to the meeting hall, ashamed at their lack of bravery when they had been tested.
Shep’d had not been happy. He wasn’t angry like some of the people that he and Marn had met on their long walk by the side of the Sapphire Sea; they would shout, red faced, spit flying into Toad’s eyes as they reprimanded him for trying to take some food for his sister. No, Shep’d didn’t shout. He even said that he forgave them. But he implored them, jaw set tight, that they must not run from the false believers.
That morning it was to be the parade for the Blessing of the Swords, and there was to be no day off to see the parade of those who persecuted them. Today was to be a day for them to stand in the wind and take the storm’s fury. As the First Saint would have done herself. He’d gone out with the same group, Felis intending to lead them to a different spot—normally one that was claimed by a different family of Devoted, but even Toad knew that many of their brothers and sisters had already been rounded up. The crowds were on the streets as they left the Ladders and headed over to the Isle of Flowers. People were carousing already; laughing, drinking, kissing, and singing. Toad was pretty sure that this was not how Arloth would want people to be celebrating the occasion of when the Ioth guard had first sworn on their lives to protect the Church and the Saint.
They moved slowly through the throngs. Toad was trailing in the rear, when he had been distracted by a crowd all facing in the same direction. A man and a woman, their faces thick with grease paint, stood on an open cart acting a scene. Toad stopped to watch, remembering when he and his mother, before Marn had been born, had seen a mummer’s show in Carlburg. It had been a story of a girl taking some goodies to her grandma that lived in the woods. Oh, how he had laughed when the girl had stabbed the wolf through the heart. He could almost feel how his mother’s hand felt in his. How he had looked up to see her wipe a tear away from her eye because she was laughing so hard.
Dwelling in the moment, it took him a while before he realized what the scene was that they were acting. The woman was clearly supposed to be the First Saint, though he didn’t think that the real girl would have had her breasts on display so much. And the man who came to bow down before her kept trying to look up her skirt. An abomination. His face flushed, Toad turned away in disgust, rubbing at his eyes to purge the sight away, before realizing that he had lost the group.
Toad broke into as much of a run as the crowds of people would allow. Calling apologies in his wake, he cut in front of people to worm his way toward the bridge where he knew he would catch up with his family. He made it over the crossing, breaking through a gaggle of festival goers, before he skidded to a halt.
The wooden stave of a pike hit Maho in the face, sending the old man down to the ground. His wife, Echa, tried to restrain the soldier but another hit her in the hip and she, too, fell to the ground. Toad stood there, slack mouthed, watching as his family were lifted back to their feet and shoved away. They had faced their enemy and they had not faltered. He was proud of them.
But now he was scared. He didn’t want to be caught too. Who would look after Marn? He had to get back to her. He had to tell Shep’d what had happened, even if the preacher would be disappointed in him.
Turning back the way he had come, Toad ran. He ran until his chest burned, not bothering to apologize where his elbows caught a passerby or he caused someone to trip. Once in a quiet alley, he paused to regain his breath before he resumed his sprint back to the Ladders and the darkness of the Base. He looked back often, and he hadn’t seen anyone following him. That was good.
Toad swung a leg over the ladder that led down below when he felt a gust of wind on the back of his neck. He looked around but didn’t see anything, nothing more than a few of the usual gawkers hanging around. Moments later and Toad was at the dirty wooden door. He rapped a rhythm, messing up the code the first time in his haste, before he calmed himself and did it right the second time.
The door opened and Shep’d stood there. At first there was a look of disapproval on his face, but then he must have noticed the state that Toad was in, as he quickly ushered the boy inside. The door closed behind Toad and he found himself shaking in a combination of fear and exhaustion. Shep’d guided him to a seat and gave him a cup of water. Once Toad’s breathing had resumed to something approaching normal, Shep’d finally spoke.
“What happened, Tom?” he asked. The preacher refused to call him by the name that everyone else called him. It was odd, but he liked it. He’d been used to being Toad for so long. Only his mother had called him Tom.
“They’ve all been arrested,” he said between gulps of air. “The guards. They hurt them. What do we do?”
Shep’d rested his hand on Toad’s shoulder and he was calmed. He looked up into the gray eyes of his preacher, seeing his own minute reflection staring down at him. “Do not worry. They won’t be harmed. I’m sure of it. Arloth will protect them, for they do his work. Do you know, there have been crack downs before? I too have been in their jails, and though they hurt my body,” Shep’d raised his shirt to show a scar across his belly as long as Toad’s hand, but neatly healed, “they could not stop me. Do you understand?”
Toad wasn’t sure he did. All he knew was he didn’t want to get a scar like that. He shook his head.
“This happened with many witnesses?” The preacher paused for Toad to nod in response. “Well, now we have won ten times the people to our cause. Those who saw the barbarity of the ruling assembly will question their own place in this world. Their eyes only now opened to the rule under which we live. Those that march to receive the Saint’s blessing today, instead receive his curse. Our family will be all the greater for their sacrifice. Have faith.”
Toad nodded, thankful for the preacher’s words. But he hoped that Arloth wouldn’t be disappointed with him that he wasn’t sure that Shep’d was right.
Chapter 37
Rescue
It was not difficult for Motega to guide his friends to the place where the boy had run. For one, the image of the streets through which the boy had fled were etched in his memory like a map. Secondly, the Ladders was bloody difficult to miss. The nine white brick towers, scaffolding arranged on the outside of them that passed for gangways, reached up into the sky next to the gleaming vision of the Sanctum. But they were an eyesore that practically everyone in Ioth blotted from their mind. Motega had wondered on a previous visit why someone hadn’t torn them down. Not that he wanted to see the people that lived there homeless, he just knew how the rich people thought and he could bet they didn’t like to wake up to that sight every morning. That’s when he heard it had been tried before, but all it did was shift the problem of the undesirables to the parts of the city where those with money were more likely to see them face to face. And that alternative had been a lot worse.
He’d also heard that the towers didn’t need anyone to pull them down either. Every few years, one of them fell after being built too high for the bricks at the bottom to support. People died. Others mourned. And finally, others would come along to clear the rubble, picking out any materials that could be re-used, and the whole process of construction would begin again. No safeguards in the build, just a bunch of people coming together to stack cheap bricks on top of one another until it was time to sandwich some beams that could hold a floor.
They took the most direct route to the Ladders. No need to go the way the boy had gone. Per perched on Motega’s shoulder as he flanked Florian, Trypp the other side of him. Put the big guy at the front and look intimidating was a great way to clear a path. But Motega really didn’t want to be heading to the Ladders. Too many people and too little space. It made him prefer even his troublesome dreams, if only to be beneath the big open sky.
They crossed the old wooden bridge from the Isle of Flowers to the Ladders and tramped up the long ramp that was the beginning of the Promenade. People who were so down on their luck that they had to crane their necks
to get a glimpse of it, stared at them openly as they passed. Peddlers sold tat and rotten food out of sacks to scores of women, and every twenty feet there was the kind of individual with an evil look who could help you out with whatever it was you were craving.
One man leaning against the railing (who must have had a death wish to trust his life in the rigidity of that carpentry) spoke to his similarly fearless neighbor. “Is that the birdman you saw?”
They kept walking but Florian spoke out of the side of his mouth to Motega. “You been here before?”
“Not me.” He put it out of his mind and pointed to the ladder off to the side where the Promenade met the first tower. “Over there.”
Before they headed down into the smelly underbelly of the Ladders, Trypp told them the plan. Find the door. Find a place to watch the door. And wait to see what happens before doing anything. Intimidating passers-by on the streets was one thing. Accidentally breaking into someone’s house and giving an old lady a seizure was another.
The Base was a unique environment. If it didn’t have the sweet putrid smell of rotten fruit then it could have felt like a magical place. There was no real direct source of sunlight but the Promenade was so shoddily constructed that thin shafts of brightness streamed into the dusty and fly-ridden darkness. The mingling of bright and black made it difficult to see very far, but they spotted more than a handful of dangerous dive bars, trip-your-tits-off skyweed dens and, even worse for your health, whore houses.
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