Sixteen
Crewald Street ran next to the river in a run-down quarter of the city. Perry slid through the ramshackle houses at an angle, and ended at the river. I sat atop the boardwalk railing, rolling a stolen chisel and needle across my lap, rubbing the part of my neck were the saddlebag strap should have been, watching the poplars across the water change to gold in the sunset.
I heard a clacking and turned round; Trid rode towards me on a brown horse. She sidled when a buckskin squeezed past her, so that Trid had to curb her sharply and wheel her round. The buckskin carried Max and Andrei.
“Can’t you just once,” said Trid, “control your stupid animal?”
“It’s Max who’s stupid,” said Andrei. “Wiggles like an eel. Makes him nervous.”
“Mother has people watching my horse,” said Max. He spotted me and slithered off Andrei’s horse. “That stunt you pulled was absolutely splendid,” he said, walking up to me. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
“A boy wouldn’t run about in a slip.” Andrei led his horse over to the rail to tie his leads next to Trid’s mare. I bit angrily at my nails. “See that hole, lugworm?” He pointed to an opening in the ground with steps looking as though they led toward the river. “You’re going to unlock the little room at the bottom that controls the floodgate.”
“The floodgate?” I was vaguely aware of how the sluice system worked. In the early spring, when the river reached too high for just the canal and threatened to spill into the streets, the sluices were opened to drain water through conduits beneath the city and into the sea. But there were two gates involved, and if the sea gates weren’t opened as well, the water had no place to go, and swamped the lower quarters with sewage. It had happened before. “Why? You want to open it?”
“The whole bottom of the hill turns into a lake,” said Max. “No good for swimming, though, as the water’s nasty. It bubbles up through the paving stones like a fountain.” Max had a cap of close, red-brown curls and a face like a fox’s. I wanted to smash it with my fist.
Trid said, “It started with my coat.” He looked embarrassed. “I’ve got a bunch of coats. It really didn’t matter.”
“Yes, it did.” Andrei swatted a fly away from his face. “Trid left it on a horse-post outside a house, thinking no one’d touch it––he’d lived a sheltered life in Lorila. We found it a week later in a woman pawnbroker’s shop on Dewing, and she said we’d have to buy it. Damned if we were going to do that.”
“It even had Trid’s family’s sigil on it,” said Max. “A big wolf. And a ‘C’. But she was stupid and didn’t listen, so we decided we’d better ruin her.”
“I didn’t want to ruin her,” said Trid. “Max just wanted a fun time. It was only a coat.”
“Lined with mink,” Andrei said. “Had silver buttons.”
“She was willing to sell it back for ten celms, a third its worth. It would’ve been easy––”
“For you, Trid,” said Andrei. “You let people walk all over you. But Max and I stole hairpins and those huge earrings from Max’s mam, and sent your boy––”
“Wasn’t mine. It was Max’s.”
“Whatever, and he went to sell them to her––”
“Halio didn’t sell them,” said Max. “He left them on the counter and scarpered. Yellow like a canary, that one. Sings like one, too. My mother fancies him. He tipped her off about the pawnbroker, said she had stolen the earrings, and my mother lapped it up. So the old woman was brought in for questioning and she was questioned all right. So was I. Guess who my mother believed?” Max shook his head sadly. “My own mother.”
Andrei snorted. “We should’ve stolen my mother’s earrings. She’d have chopped off the hag’s arms. Instead we had to scrub the larder floor.”
“So we’re going to flood her out,” said Max. “She’s the reason Mother watches my horse.”
“On the contrary.” Andrei looked over at him. “Without those bells hanging from her ears she can better hear you talk. But let’s get on with it before dark. I shouldn’t want to miss all the Elden shrieking.”
I took a deep breath, to calm myself. “You’re all great idiots, you know. The biggest bunch of idiots ever.”
Max laughed. “Now, you shouldn’t––” Andrei stepped hard on Max’s foot. “Shithead.”
“Let her talk––should be funny.”
“First of all,” I said, “about that old woman, that weren’t her fault at all, she didn’t steal the cloak. She took it from someone as collateral. That’s what pawnbrokers do.” I wondered if they’d been walking around with sacks over their heads. “And there’s more folk than her livin down there. A whole lot of em. Ye can’t do something like this without thinkin about their swamped-out homes. What’ll become of them?”
Andrei shrugged. “A few Elden swimming through the wetter streets might make the dryer ones stink less.”
Max sneezed. Trid had the decency to look uncomfortable. “About that. She’s got a point––”
“Gods, Trid,” said Andrei. “Your balls are looking more shriveled every minute. If you want to stay a girl forever––”
“You think you’re a man?” I said to Andrei. “You’re a weasel.”
“And you,” he said in measured tones, “are in no position to call me names other than ‘my good lord’ or “my worshipful master’ or ‘my most gracious sovereign’, and perhaps somewhere far, far down the road I shall let you graduate to ‘Andrei’, but we’ve quite a-ways before we reach that point.”
Sick with fury, I bit my tongue.
“Dying to say it, aren’t you?” He smiled horribly. “Well, go on. I promise I shan’t do anything except laugh.”
My tongue bled all throughout my work. The taste became unbearable, and I spit pink gobs onto the pavement.
Afterwards I stood on the edge of the great wet mess I had made. People shouted in the distance, voices echoing over the water, and big, greasy bubbles rose to the surface, popping and releasing a foul stench. I was alone except for Floy.
“I hate you.” The black water stirred. “I hate you I hate you I hate you.”
***
About midway through the summer I noticed Padlimaird was drawing water for the smithy from the soldier’s fountain. He and Wille thought the walk to the closest community well too arduous and pointless a trip at a half-mile and with the barracks courtyard boasting such a fine, clean alternative just north of their workshop.
I didn’t fear for Wille, who was almost grown and able to talk his way out of anything. But Padlimaird was only fourteen and small for his age. Occasionally I spied him carrying the bucket to and from the fountain, and I balked at the idea of the soldiers catching him at it.
Most of them were human, tall and strange, because the commander of the city garrison had put his faith into brawn, and humans supplied that at short order. I didn’t believe in the goodwill of humans anymore. Upon catching Padlimaird moseying back with his water one rainy morning, I felt compelled to tell him he shouldn’t, either.
He set down the bucket and said, “Wille does it, too. Why ain’t y’dickerin after him?”
“Wille’s older than you, and his head’s always been too thick for sense––”
“Wille don’t care, and neither do I.”
“Oh, aye,” I said. “And someday he’ll find that not caring was the worst choice he ever made, when all the trouble he never noticed’ll creep up and trounce him, where he thought it was a load o’ nothing. And it’ll happen to you, too––”
“Trouble is nothing.” Padlimaird picked up his bucket and tried to push past me, but I stepped in his way. “Remember old Raggy? A-feared of everything in the world, but it was all nothing in the end.”
“The end’s not here, Padlimaird.” I yanked him down by his shirtfront so I could look at him directly. “Y’can’t know it’s nothing. Calragen was mostly scared by the end. The end is right when he dies and leaves the world a shambles for everyone younger than he is. No wonder old folks is always so frightened––nobody else is scared enough. The next mornin you filch water from the barracks might well be the last mornin ye spend on your idiot legs.”
“I’ll be damned if I go about shakin in me boots because of a bunch of humans.”
“Fine,” I yelled. “It’s your head.”
Padlimaird changed subjects. “Wille says ye look worn out as a wrung hankie. Are you worn out, Aloren? Cause it seems like someone’s been wringing ye of every shred o’ common sense ye used to have.”
Our definitions of common sense differing so, I wasn’t going to make more progress. So I turned on my heel and stormed off, making a mental note to avoid Wille.
***
Padlimaird’s obstinacy very nearly cost him his toes about a month after we had our argument, because two of the guard caught him at it, both human, and both in need of a diversion from guarding the east armory.
Lucky for Paddy, Andrei, Trid and Max had planned to pick the lock on the east armory that very morning. (Max, whose mother didn’t allow him a sword in his belt, was especially keen.) I followed the human boys across the barracks bridge, through the brick arcade, and into the courtyard.
Max walked over to the drowsing sentries. “My, but it’s muggy today.” He waved air into his tunic, and the men immediately snapped awake and stood up straighter.
“And it’s only going to get hotter. Look at that sun.” Andrei stepped into the shade.
“I’d keel over and die out here if the fountain weren’t right there,” said Max, pointing. “Especially cold for some reason, that water was just now.” He slipped a tin pannikin off his belt and offered it to the first sentry, a man with a curly beard. “You look like you could do with some water, sir.”
“Go on.” Trid wiped his forearm (after he had spit on it) across his brow. “It’s a blister out here.”
“Gracious, do my sandals stink in this heat,” said Andrei. “But not as much as Max’s armpits. If you fellows feel faint you’d better leave before the fumes get to your heads.”
Curly-beard eyed the pannikin nervously. “Best we don’t leave our watch.”
“If the both of you don’t clear out,” said Andrei, “I’ll tell Herist how you’re all set for the night watch because of the nap you were just taking at your post.”
The soldier took the cup from Max with a suspicious look, and in a great clinking of hauberks, pulled his fellow after him towards the fountain.
“Aloren.” Andrei looked around for me. “Aloren, hurry up.”
I shuddered, and stumped over to the double-bolted door, and Floy threw herself into my hands, chipping and trilling. The chisel dropped from my teeth.
Trid said to Andrei, “Have you ever seen a sparrow do that?”
“The fire-headed feck,” I said to Floy. “Did he have to choose now?” I picked up the chisel, pushed through the gawking boys and ran towards the fountain.
Beside it Curly-beard held Padlimaird by one of his protruding ears. The other raised his hand and bowled Padlimaird over, and Curly-beard sat on Padlimaird’s legs to stop their kicking, and grabbed Padlimaird’s hair to keep Padlimaird’s teeth from sinking into his arm.
“Get off me, you bear in a dress,” Padlimaird shrieked.
“We’ll teach you not to hit, scab.” The second soldier unsheathed his short sword. “Won’t be kicking, neither, when I lop your toes off.”
“When you could’ve got off with just a quick shave of the head,” said Curly-beard.
I added to the taunting: “Think you’re brave, now?” And I leapt forward to stick a soldier through the heart with my chisel.
Andrei grabbed a handful of my chemise and I fell on my butt.
“First they’ll rape you blind,” he said matter-of-factly, “then they’ll beat you into a pulp.”
“Let go.” I rolled onto my stomach, and pulled away from him. “They’ll cut him.”
“Mercy me,” he said.
Trid walked after us, saw the bucket, the wet seeping through the flagstones.
“Water?” he said, and laughed. He leaned over Andrei, who’d fallen behind me, and unpinned a broach from Andrei’s right shoulder. “So much for keeping the peace.” And he strode towards the soldiers, pinning the thing onto his tunic.
I picked myself up to better watch.
Trid stuck out a hand at the soldiers. “Let him go,” he said. “You’ve taught him his lesson This isn’t Lorila.”
Both men stared at him for the minute it took their eyes to move from his face to Andrei’s broach. “My lord.” The soldier on top of Padlimaird loosened his legs, and Padlimaird slid out from beneath him.
He flattened his shirt, trying to look cavalier. He said to me: “Why’re ye hanging round a bunch of owls?”
“Hasn’t much of a choice.” Andrei walked up beside us and pushed me out of the way. “The next time you disrupt such a brilliant idea, I’ll––”
“Toss off stupid death threats,” I said. He gave me a high look and spoke to Trid.
“You should go back to Lorila. All those oppressed Rilelden you can save.”
“But then you’d be short a friend.” Trid handed back the broach. “And you’re not doing much to win new ones.”
“Sweet blessed earth.” Padlimaird shook Trid’s hand. “Thank ye kindly, sir.”
“Wear boots,” Trid said, looking at the boy’s feet. “And don’t get water here––that was stupid.”
“Aye, m’lord.” Padlimaird tramped away with his empty bucket.
I scowled after him, certain Wille and Nefer would know all about my unlikely acquaintances by the next half-hour.
“Aye, m’lord,” crowed Andrei into Trid’s ear. Trid shoved him through the arcade, and Max joined us from where he had watched the whole thing.
I thought of all the m’lord’s and sir’s the humans seemed to inspire in everyone, and had a sudden notion––one of those that haunt the mind until they’re cleared and settled. So I ran and caught up with the boys.
“D’you ever see the Queen’s son?” I asked them. Andrei stopped for a beat, and his face took on a queer expression.
“Too much.” He strode ahead of Trid and me.
Max took Andrei’s place. “The prince gets in the way of Andy’s fun. He doesn’t like the prince.”
“He’s not a prince,” said Andrei.
“He’s a nasty little bastard,” I said.
The boys on either side of me began to laugh, softly at first, but it soon became an impediment, and they had to stop and calm themselves. “Aloren,” said Max, “you’re a lark. Careful you’re not a dead one.”
***
After Trid took the initiative to help Padlimaird, I grew a grudging affection for him: for his fairness, never quite beaten into submission by his peers, and for the unexpected dexterity of his long fingers.
He badgered and goaded me until I’d taught him how to pick a lock, care for a beaten dog, mend a broken finger.
Lord or no, Trid wanted to be a doctor. This puzzled me, as healing was a woman’s profession among the Gralde. But Trid was human, as well as from Lorila.
***
Autumn came, sweeping in with cold rain, and the locust trees spread naked limbs under the bell tower. The ground shone, paved with their gold leaves.
I sat on the top step waiting for Andrei, who’d exhausted his supply of discreet meeting-places, to tell me what I was to do next. I expected an angry shout from him. I’d sprained my ankle dancing the day before and my steps were slow and laborious.
He bounded up the steps, face steely with excitement. Max walked behind him with a more glum expression. Andrei stopped to take a great bite of something wrapped in a cloth napkin, allowing Max to speak first: “I wanted to break into Luka’s cabinet tomorrow night––see if he had leaf in there, but I was ruled out.”
“Stop wingeing,” Andrei said. “It’s Herist’s records, and I’m going to slug you if you don’t shut up.”
I jumped up, rolled on my bad ankle, and fell down. “Herist?” Perchevor Herist, commander of the city garrison and owner of two-thirds of the vessels in the harbor, was not known for his leniency toward thieves. Or Gralde. “Are you mad?” I rubbed my ankle.
“Barking,” said Max.
“She’s gone and hurt herself.” Andrei stared at the ankle. It was swollen into an angry red ring. “A great deal of help you’re going to be tomorrow, you dancing monkey.” My mouth twisted down. “Don’t give me that––I see you doing it everywhere. Gods know why. You’ve precious little to be so happy about.”
I stood up again, two steps above him, swaying. “What d’ye know about happiness, you stinkin maggoty canker?”
He bent real close. “Shake the sand out of your cunny before tomorrow. We don’t want a problem.”
“You should talk––got a pike so far up your arse it’s scrambling your brains. Get everyone killed, you will.”
“I ought to smack you.” Our exchanges were becoming boringly rote. “I’m thirsty,” he complained to Max. “Let’s go find a fountain.”