. All rights are reserved. No works, in part or in whole,
may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jay
Imerman unless otherwise noted.Javan awoke the next morning to a strange sound: the buzz and hum of the city. A diffuse sunlight filtered in through the small square window. Looking outside, he could see the sky was cloudy. He looked in his purse: only a few coppers left. His hand unconsciously leapt to his breast, and he fingered through the cloth of his shirt the amulet underneath. As the heir of his household, like all other boys he knew, he carried around his neck a wooden pendant worked with metal given to him by his father. As he realized what he held, he dropped his hand with a feeling of disgust.
Why did he still carry it around? He could not bear to think of his parents, but it seemed all his mind would focus on. Somehow, he could not bring himself to rip it from his neck and toss it away. Perhaps he could sell it.
After breakfast in the common room (which really was quite good), he went to the clerk's desk. A younger woman was there, quite homely and mousy looking with long, straight brown hair, and a scar on her left cheek.
"Good morning," she said in a detached voice. It was something to say, not a wish to a guest.
"Hullo. Here's my key. How can I get my horse back?"
"Which room?"
"Over there," he pointed. "Eighth on the right."
She put the key back in a spot under the counter.
"See the doorman, Kulo." She pointed, and a grim-looking man with graying hair stood with his back to them by the door, leaning against a wall.
"Thank you."
"Mmmm," she made a distracted sound almost under her breath, and went on with whatever she had been doing.
Kulo rang a bell, and Ben came at a trot. Seeing Javan, he smiled weakly and went outside. Javan followed him to the stable, saddled the mare, and rode out.
The square was indeed busy as he approached, and the streets were thronged with people making their way to and from it. The hucksters' stands across the other side were open, and people hawked their wares, their voices rising faintly above the crowd. Javan rode around for a while, and made his way across the square. He could now see between the people that the market sold all kinds of fruits, vegetables, meats, and baked goods, as well as tools and accessories. Behind them, he recognized some of the signs on the buildings: the sword and shield of the Armorer's Guild, the mortar and pestle of the Healer's Guild, a bakery (probably supplied the hucksters in the market).
Next to the bakery, a wide street ran from the square and down a few blocks before it turned a corner. Javan could see a crowd gathered on one side, in front of a woman dressed in a flowing, bright-colored robe. He dismounted and led his horse up closer as he began to make out her words.
"Do you think now that it is up to Chance? The gods have unveiled for me the workings of Fate. Your lives are predetermined. You, there," she pointed to someone. "Your home is southwest of here. Your daughter has left this morning, although your wife doesn't know it yet. The fight you had with her yesterday has only strengthened her will. Leave now, before she meets an untimely end." The man gasped. His companion looked bewildered, and his face paled. The two turned as if in a dream, and ran toward the city gates.
"Come in for a reading. The Fates can be open to you, if you know how to look." She stared, it seemed, straight at Javan. Several people surged forward, money in hand. Foremost was someone dressed in rather rich clothing.
Javan felt at his belt for his purse. It was gone. Then, he realized that the hand he felt with was no longer holding the tether of his horse. He turned, and caught out of the corner of his eye a boy leading the horse around the corner of the street. He had a sneaking suspicion that the woman was part of the plot, distracting onlookers so they could be pick-pocketed. With a shout, he ran at top speed, dodging around occasional people, horses, and carts. People turned to stare at him.
He turned right as the street turned. It turned left a few yards further. As he rounded the second corner, he saw the tail of the horse ahead disappear between two buildings. He cursed as his legs pelted onward; he cursed himself for not paying attention, he cursed the horse for not making a sound. He cursed himself again for running after a worthless mount.
As he reached the alley, he skidded around the corner and saw a door just pulling to. He dove, and the door closed on his wrist as his chest hit the compacted dirt of the alley. Luckily, the door had not been pulled with too much force. The thief had probably not expected Javan to catch up so quickly. Javan had been the fastest runner in his village. Most of the time, he spent running from some of the other kids as they had picked on him.
Scrambling to his feet in the same motion as his dive, he was half surprised to find no one at the door. Apparently it had been pulled and left to close of its own accord. The clop of hooves on wood sounded ahead, and he surged forward down a hallway wide enough for a horse.
He turned to the left, and there in a room was the horse. A figure bent over the saddle bags, rummaging through them. It turned at Javan's heavy breathing. He was surprised to see a boy, perhaps ten years old, with a dirty face, unkempt hair, and wild eyes, looking gaunt.
The boy gritted his teeth and charged. Almost caught off guard, Javan ripped his small utility knife from his belt, but his hand was beaten aside before he could bring it to bear. The knife clattered to the floor. In a blur of motion, Javan twisted with the thief's charge, and rolled around behind him as the boy's momentum carried him beyond the doorway and down a hall perpendicular to the room. Javan's arm ended up around the boy's throat, with his knee in his back, as they fell to the floor.
Javan could hardly talk, he was breathing so hard. "Thief," he managed to gasp, "what...would the...city guard say?"
The boy struggled harder, but could not dislodge the larger form from his back.
"You can have your horse back," sneered the boy.
"Of course," said Javan as he began to catch his breath. "Of course I can. How about my purse?"
"Only a few measly coppers. That's mine for the effort." Javan could hardly believe his ears. Did this kid actually think that Javan owed him? In a way, Javan was kind of impressed by the moxie the kid displayed.
"Tell you what. If you help me find a job, and give me back my purse, I'll not report you to the Guard. I'll even let you go." The boy seemed to go limp. "For the effort of chasing you," he added.
"I can't. I need to show something for the morning's work." Javan was bewildered. It seemed like the boy had no choice. He was being very selfish and unrealistic. Javan pulled back on his neck and dug his knee further into his back.
"Don't move that hand any more." The boy's hand had begun to sneak down toward his waist, and stopped. He put his hands out from his side. Something else was going on here, he sensed. Javan was at a loss. "Why do you think I owe you?"
The boy whispered something. "Hunh?" grunted Javan. He bent closer.
"Not here," said the boy under his breath, then said a little louder, "How about your saddlebags?"
Javan looked around him for the first time. The building he was in was dilapidated. Cracks shone through the walls to the outside, and it appeared that no one inhabited it. He suddenly felt as if eyes were everywhere watching them.
"Come with me, we're going to see the Guard," he said, and added under his breath, "All right, where?"
Javan grabbed the boy's arm and twisted it, not too hard, behind his back as he allowed him to stand. Javan led the boy back to the room where the horse stood nervously. No door stood on the ruined hinges. Javan grabbed a length of rope from his saddlebag, and quickly tied the boy's hands behind him, then retrieved his knife from the floor. He twisted with lightning speed as the hairs on the nape of his neck warned him that someone was behind him, and the knife sank into something soft, while a blow was struck to the hand. Javan realized it was the throat of another boy a little older than the first. A gush of warm blood covered his hand, and with a sick feeling of unreality, he held on to the knife as the boy slid off it backward onto the floor. With horror, he realized he had killed someone for the first time in his life.
The sudden thought flitted through his mind, if I can't handle this killing, how can I be a Knight of the Order? He felt faint headed, but he retained enough of his wits to dash back in the room and prevent the thief from bolting. Rather than speak, Javan indicated with his head to leave the way they had come. He wiped as much of the blood off his hand and knife with his cloak as he could, then discarded the cloak by the body of the other boy.
The thief seemed cowed, and walked with his head down. However, watching from behind, it seemed to Javan as if he constantly glanced sideways, as if looking for other friends, or as if afraid that someone might find him. Javan felt very alone and very unsafe. His mind raced, and it seemed as if he could see everywhere at once.
When they had gotten down the alley to the street, Javan said, "All right. Ride in front of me. Don't try anything or I'll stick you." They mounted, and Javan covered his still-red hand under his shirt, holding the knife to the boy's back. "Trust me," he murmured. He sat the boy in front of the saddle horn, so that it looked more natural to have his hands behind him to hold on. He figured that way, people might not notice the rope, and the boy would be in front of his bloody hand.
The boy seemed to relax, although he was obviously still nervous. People walking the street tended to mind their own business, and no Guards were in sight. Javan headed back to the square, through the throng. He crossed the square, and on a hunch took the next street over from Hawk Avenue. This had a sign with the picture of a seagull. After a block, he turned right into a narrow alley between two buildings (there seemed to be a lot of alleys in this city), and came out at the other end on Hawk. He recognized the tavern across Hawk Street - the one with crossed swords over a mug.
He turned left, and was back at the Bucking Donkey Inn. They rode through the gate, dismounted, and glanced through the opened door at Kulo. The man's face didn't show any sign of recognition when he saw Javan. He merely whistled, and Ben came running a minute later to take the horse. He led them to the clerk, and stood with crossed arms as they waited for the mousy woman to finish with another patron.
She looked at Javan with the same void expression. "How many nights?" she asked.
"One more, please."
"Three coppers." Javan forgot he hadn't gotten back his purse. He felt a leather bag being pressed into his hand, and took it from the boy in front of him. He reached in, and dropped three coins on the counter. He quickly withdrew his hand, noticing the brown flaky splotches. He also quickly noticed that the purse was not his. It was a little heavier.
"Here's your change and your key," she said. Javan realized the coins he had put on the counter were not coppers.
The clerk offered the coins and key, expecting the boy to reach out and take them. She raised an eyebrow as Javan reached around from behind the boy. They went to the room to which she directed them, and closed and locked the door.
As the lock tumblers fell into place, it occurred to Javan that the boy had offered him probably the entire morning's collections in that pouch. He marveled at the trust that implied. Where to begin?
"What's your name?" asked Javan.
The boy's eyes continued their nervous traversal around the room. They alighted, like a fly, on Javan's face, but this time they stayed there. He searched Javan's face. He saw a boy, a little older than himself. Behind the eyes there seemed to be a haunted look. They eyes seemed a little sunken, the cheeks a bit hollow. Dirt and some small, dry drops of blood speckled his face. Somehow, he seemed to sense a kindred spirit, and for some reason he later could not explain, he answered.
"Hogarth."
"Hogarth, I'm Javan. Pardon me for not clasping wrists, but I think I'll keep you tied up a bit longer."
Hogarth's voice fell a little more. Javan leaned in to hear him. "If I go back with nothing, he'll whip me." Javan noticed a slight twitching tick develop under the boy's eye. Hogarth wiped absentmindedly at it. He continued. "I haven't done very well this week, and the other kids have been doing better." Javan wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, and his expression must have told Hogarth so. "My master calls himself the Prince of Little Thieves. We call him The Tyrant. I must bring him everything I get. In return, he protects me, feeds me, and gives me some money."
Javan's face must have shown his horror, for the boy smiled a cynical smile at his naiveté. "Although it is nothing compared to what I give him," said Hogarth quickly, and then regretted saying it. He resumed flitting his eyes around the room, peering often through the small window, and seemingly tensed, ready to spring up.
Javan's mind whirled. He had to help this boy. Nobody should live like this.
"What do you want from me?" he asked Hogarth.
A glimmer of hope seemed to briefly flash in Hogarth's eyes. "I need to take something back to him. If I am imprisoned by the Guard, a bribe will have me out on the street within a day or two. I will be severely beaten for getting caught and costing him the bribe, and probably won't get any food for a couple of days for letting Bart get killed."
Javan thought for a moment. Turning him in to the Guard, if what he said were true, would accomplish nothing. It would put the boy in more danger. Letting him go, he would still be in about as much trouble. The thought of killing him came up, but he almost retched as the image of the other boy (Bart was it?) came to mind. Besides, the other kid was an accident. Javan doubted he could kill someone on purpose.
"Then you must escape."
Hogarth laughed, but it was an ugly laugh. "There is no escape. Neek has spies everywhere, and he has connections with the nobles. Some even pay him protection, so that if anything of theirs is ever stolen, it is returned."
"What about leaving the city?"
"His reach is far," Hogarth said dejectedly, then looked down thoughtfully for a moment, then back up at Javan. "Where are you going?"
Without hesitation, he told Hogarth what he had not told anyone else yet. "To the Keep of the Knights of the Order of Ki. I am going to petition the Grand Chancellor to become a Knight Apprentice."
Hogarth sucked in his breath. After a moment, he laughed quietly. "Do you think they would accept you?"
A flush started to form in Javan's face. "Yes," he said evenly. The laugh stopped, but Hogarth still looked at Javan doubtfully. Perhaps Javan was more than he appeared to be. Perhaps he had something that guaranteed it.
"All right," said Hogarth, then lowered his voice more. "I'll go with you. To the Keep. I know a secret way out of the city. Neek'll have the gate Guard in his pocket, so I can't go out there." He hesitated. "Yes, I think the Knights are about the only ones he has no power over."
"Under one condition." Hogarth was instantly suspicious. "You must promise neither to escape, nor to harm me, nor to take anything else from anyone without their permission."
The look Hogarth gave him spoke volumes. Javan added, "At least, no stealing as long as we have an agreement."
Hogarth had no problem promising this, and he had no intention of keeping the promise. However, for effect, he hesitated, seemed to consider, then nodded.
"As far as I go," added Javan, "you can count on me to keep every word I speak. You will be free of this Neek, or I will be dead." A fire flared up in Javan's eyes as he said this. He had never committed himself to anyone before. Hogarth stared for a moment, shocked. A pang of guilt, followed by a longing, shot through Hogarth. He quickly covered it up, but not without Javan noticing. "Can I count on you?"
Hogarth nodded again. This time, his intention to break the promise was greatly diminished. He suppressed a whirling of emotions: fear, hope, longing, and sadness. He found himself moved that Javan would commit his life to a perfect stranger, and one that had only moments before tried to steal from him, and intended to deceive him.
For himself, Javan was astonished at the words he heard coming out of his mouth. New emotions ravaged his consciousness. He felt, for the first time in his recollection, a glimmer of pride in himself. He felt compassion for Hogarth. He even felt a renewed strength and determination to reach the Keep and petition the Chancellor. He felt fear of what he had promised, and in an instant regretted his words and deeds. He also felt a little nauseous after the adrenaline had left his system. He failed to notice, however, that he had forgotten about his complaints of his family, and his self-doubt.
"Tell me about this secret way out," said Javan.
Hogarth said that there was a trap door in the floor of a back room in one of the shops along the outer wall. This trap door stood disguised, underneath barrels and other sundry items. Underneath the building, a ladder climbed down into an underground chamber. Out of the chamber, a tunnel had been dug under the wall. It came out over half a mile away, in an abandoned farmhouse shed southeast of the city.
"Who uses it?"
"Only Neek, as far as I know, and Junan, his most trusted servant. I saw them once, without them noticing. I had been hiding behind the barrels after running from the Guard, when Neek came in. He looked around, then motioned to Junan. They moved aside the stuff, and Junan climbed in, then Neek covered it back up and left."
Javan thought. Hogarth couldn't move the goods himself, and he couldn't get the horse down such a passage. He didn't like the idea of leaving Hogarth to himself while Javan left through the gate.
"We could sell the horse," suggested Hogarth.
"No." Javan was surprised to hear that come out of his mouth. Suddenly, he found that he appreciated the animal. She had been faithful, and had carried him far without complaint. More than that, she had been his only companion since he had left home. He did not elaborate to Hogarth. "When I entered the city last night, the guard stopped me and questioned me. Do they do this during the day?"
"No, the traffic is too busy. They only question travelers at night, and only lately. Something must have them on edge."
"We can leave the horse here, leave on foot in the night, and exit through your secret way. Then, I can return during the day and return the key, and retrieve the horse," Javan said. "No, too complicated," he changed his mind.
"I'd have to find a place to wait for you," said Hogarth. "The land around the city is all flat and open. And well traveled."
"Same problem if you go alone through the exit, and I leave through the gate. How about if I get some food for our mid-day meal, and we can discuss it."
Hogarth nodded.
Copyright © 2002 by Jay
Imerman. All rights are reserved. No works, in part or in whole,
may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jay
Imerman unless otherwise noted.