The inside of a cafe [https://i.imgur.com/2Tt7y2N.png]
THE CAFE
Two espressos into the morning and Monte wasn't feeling any better. Jittery, a little nauseous, head like a seaside morning. Alaya's café was already nearly full, but silent except for the occasional request for a refill. It was still early. The bells in the town square were silent, but the one above the door was especially active. Its shrill ring announced each time someone came in or out. It took a few coffees before he could tell the sound apart from the ringing in his head.
The night he arrived in town, now nearly a week ago, was a blur. His first pristine memory was from the following morning, right here in this café. He watched Alaya laugh while the locals began recounting his escapades from the night before. This morning, she must have been too busy, or maybe the fun of this thing they had was starting to wear thin. Monte couldn't help stealing glances at her, but so far none had been returned.
Those in the know arrived at Alaya's shop early enough to get a seat, and they stayed well into the morning. After the sun had been out for long enough, out-of-towners here for the festival were drawn in by the smells. They came in search anything to bring them back to life, and had to wait for the few available tables.
Monte's memory of last night had some blurry gaps. Still, he recognized a few faces as they came through the door, looking far less enthusiastic than they had just a few hours ago. As the coffee and pastries worked their magic, the assembled locals were less and less silent.
"You sure got into your cups eh Monte?" Said one of the crusty old regulars. As the man said it, Monte glanced behind the counter and caught a half smirk from Alaya.
Every morning, the locals’ attention eventually came around to Monte, and today was no exception. Apparently, the novelty of seeing new faces coming and going from the café was starting to wear off. He didn't mind, he was still the new guy. At the academy everyone took turns being the butt of jokes, Monte knew it was all in good fun.
"I have no regrets!" Monte said, trying to play along.
"Well I regret watching you try to learn the dances. 'Like watching a fowl learn to walk it was." The crusty old man said.
A roar of laughter emerged from the tables laid out in the front of the shop. Monte saw even a few waiting in line let themselves in on the jape. Only Alaya seemed immune from it. Maybe it was time to move on from this town.
"My friend says he saw the old Clockmaker hov'rin 'round the festivities." Monte heard another man say.
"Right about the time that old scofflaw of a mayor we got was blabberin' wasn't it?" A woman seated at another table chimed in.
"I didn't see 'nothing at all I think that's all nonsense. Last I heard the Clockmaker was long gone from 'ere. Been gone for months they 'ave" A second woman added.
"Well that's not right, I've seen 'em myself. Comes around for supplies now and then, up from the Old City." The crusty old man spoke up again. He was promptly drowned out by groans.
"Where's the Old City?" Monte asked, to even louder groans.
"That's what the elder folk call the sewers and tunnels beneath the buildings around the square. They've been there longer than any of us. The Clockmaker's down there, some lunatics think." Said one of the oldest men Monte had met in town, with no hint of irony.
"That's right, and the Clockmaker might be hearin' us right now. Won't take too kindly to you callin' their biggest supporter a lunatic I reckon." The crusty old man retorted. It drew a few small laughs.
Gossip of this kind was the real morning ritual here. Monte had pieced together the political landscape of the town from listening in. As far as he could tell, the Clockmaker was half real person, half myth used to scare children. Sometimes they lived in the sewers, sometimes in the clock tower. In some stories they were as powerful as the mayor, and in others they had no power at all. Lately the clockmaker seemed to be used as a stand-in for the town itself in disagreements with the mayor.
Conversation continued for some time and Monte heard more accounts that the Clockmaker had been creeping around the edge of the festivities. Presumably they wanted to hear what would happen to the tower. Or maybe not, maybe that was someone else. Nobody seemed to agree. Monte had seen something like what was described. They were small, crouching, hooded, and lurking on the edge of the square.
It must have been the Clockmaker.
Monte immediately retracted the notion. How much ale had he drank? Of course he didn’t see some mythical creature. Besides, he only barely remembered last night’s episode with the cat and the strange shadowy figure. Just then he realized he hadn't seen the cat this morning.
I wonder where she's hiding.
Another round of laughter brought him back into the present.
"Right and next we know it will be young Monte here elected the next mayor!" One of the women was putting a stinger on someone else's joke. Monte hadn't heard it, but it brought the entire room to pieces.
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Monte knew better than to ask about the joke. If he did it would just be turned on him somehow. He was certain that whatever it was, it was about the Clockmaker or the mayor, or maybe the new men brought in to get the clock tower moving again. Likely it involved all three. That's all anyone here seemed to want to talk about lately. He decided to keep the conversation going.
"Well… I'll tell you what I would do if I was mayor. I would make sure those bells never stopped ringing. Right on time too." Monte tried his best to impersonate what little pomp he witnessed from the mayor’s speech last night.
"Here here!" One of the assembled shouted, in jest, Monte was sure.
"And I wouldn't be bringing in any outsiders to do shoddy work around town. Have you seen the shrubberies lately?" Monte felt like he was on a roll. The crowd murmured their ascent as though they were sincerely engaged.
"Old Monte here has the right of it! Maybe he can be the one to win back the clockmaker and trim the hedges!" The crusty old man from before shouted facetiously. He was rewarded with a few laughs and murmurs of feigned assent.
Monte again chose to ignore the heckling. He'd learned early on at the Academy that if you reacted to them, they only got worse. Monte couldn't help but smile, and he even caught a smirk on Alaya's face. She was re-arranging a platter of croissants but apparently still listening.
Now I just need to bring it home.
"Last, I would never, ever interrupt the troupe once they started playing. Not even on the biggest night in this town's history!" As he reached the conclusion he stood up for effect.
A mild applause started up and Monte took an over-exaggerated bow. He had seen others make short speeches at breakfast, and he was just following their lead. He hadn't moved any ideas forward, and grousing about the mayor's performance picked up again amongst the tables as soon as he sat back down.
Based on what he'd gleaned the last few mornings, the mayor had been in office for a short time. So far, he has mostly been focused on reducing the amount of coin spent on town services. To some, the frugality is desirable, and of course to others it's not. Nobody can seem to agree on what should be cut, though to Monte it seemed like all services were being reduced equally without any input. A rare point of mutual agreement was distaste for the summary dismissal of the Clockmaker.
If only these debates happened inside the town hall.
He realized that if the clockmaker was still active, it would mean no festival. Without a festival he wouldn't have ever come here. If he never came here he wouldn't have met Alaya.
Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Alaya had his insides turning in every direction. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and didn't want to. Still, a part of him wished they'd never met. Monte heard the bell above the door jingle. He was returning to reality amidst another round of laughter, he thought, except something was off. Alaya was screeching and patrons started to join in.
"Bloody rats!" Alaya squealed in disgust. She was looking at the ground around her. Monte couldn't see behind the counter.
"Filthy, Bloody rats!" She shouted, jumping onto a low stool near the window.
As if on cue, a mass of rats - Monte counted at least two dozen - came skittering into the front of the café. Townsfolk leapt onto their chairs as plates and glasses crashed to the floor. The patron who had just come through the door stood with it open for long enough for the rats to find it and dissipate through it into the street. Chaos reigned for what felt like hours, and then it was all over. In reality, only about ten seconds had elapsed. The bell jingled again, the patron had understandably walked out.
Monte stepped under the counter and into the back room and lifted Alaya from the stool gently to the floor. She didn't seem pleased to be touched, her face was beat red.
"I. Hate. Rats." She puffed.
"I'm going to lose so many customers from this." She put her face in her hands momentarily as she said it. Then she looked at him with venom in her eyes.
"Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to do something about this?" Alaya asked, suddenly more angry than upset. Her cheeks were no less flush, though the angle of her eyebrows and look in her eyes had entirely changed.
In the mornings prior, this hadn't been an issue. In fact, Monte hadn't seen more than the occasional vermin one expects to find in a city at dusk. Then Monte remembered the cat was usually snoozing in a window or curled up behind the counter. He had to find her and bring her back here. He had to do something, or his chances seeing the inside of the apartment above them again was close to zero.
"I'll go find the cat, and we'll run them out of here for good I promise." Monte said, as calmly as he could.
Alaya didn't reply and simply stared at him. Monte took it as silent assent and made for the front door. As he left, he heard a sparse, sarcastic applause erupt from those assembled at the tables. Selfishly, he was glad he didn't have to deal with the mess inside. Out on the square was a welcome relief, though not entirely pleasant. Unlike the foggy weather in his head, the sun was at its highest point, and Monte wasn't quite ready to face it.
He moved into the central square and found it still in a state of morning-after disrepair. Once ebullient paper and flower decorations looked lifeless, clinging together in the clammy morning air. Tables still held flagons half-filled with ale. By the looks of things, after the troupe stopped playing the party kept going. Vague memories of dancing with maidens and ladies alike, once pure in his mind, were now poisoned with the knowledge his dancing wasn't quite what he had in his head.
Looking around he started to put together how Alaya's shop was disturbed. Bits of food were still on plates and strew about, and square was swarming with more rats than he'd ever seen.
This is what happens when you stop paying people.
He wandered to where he'd been sitting and looked outward from the square toward the crack in the wall where the cat had disappeared last night. This morning it looked much different. Clay colored stone on one side, blue gray on the other, starkly illuminated with sunlight. Inside the crevasse between the two there was shadow, and something else. He rubbed his eyes to get a better look, and it was still there.
It was unmistakable, from inside the narrow passage, Monte saw the dark shape of a hooded face peering in his direction. He started to move towards the figure and felt something rubbing against his boots.
"Oh, you're back now huh? Could have used you--" Monte said, looking down to see the cat.
But it wasn't the cat. At least thirty rats were rushing madly past him, out from the cover of the tables and chairs and into the open sunlight. They were all moving towards the opening. Monte looked back up and the figure was gone. Rats had made it to the opening and were pouring into it. He saw the group from the square combining with apparently other groups of rats from elsewhere.
Once he could get himself to move again, he ran with some difficulty to the opening. He arrived slightly winded, still feeling the effects of the ale. He didn't see the figure. What he did see combined with the harsh sunlight of midday and nearly made him sick. Rats occupied nearly every surface of the alleyway. They were moving towards the back and escaping somewhere he couldn't see. What was back there? Was the figure calling them? And when he needed her the most, where in the world was the cat?