Chapter 4: Untimely demise

“Are you gonna let me up mate, or hold my back to this god’s awful snow all day? You can give me one solid one but watch the teeth. I'd say we’re square after that but seeing all that blood… I'm still not sure” He quipped, likely trying to lighten the mood somewhat. Judging from the vague memories I had of him that would match along with his character. I shifted my weight off of him and held out a hand to help him up. Grasping with warmer fingers than mine he pulled himself up feigning a groan while holding his lower back.

“Never seen you move like that before. Learned a few tricks have we? Givin' a poor bastard a sore arse isn't something your Ma’ would approve of.” Seeing my lack of reaction he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head while letting out an empty chuckle. I didn't know how to respond seeing as all the answers would include the news his friend was left for dead and a thirty-year-old man from another world had taken his body over. Not exactly an easy topic to broach.

“Hey I’m just pullin’ your leg, no harm done, but more importantly we need to get ya back to your Ma’s so she can sew you up and make sure nothing more leaks out… plus… did you happen to nab any profits? It don't matter much, but with Tibbs, on our arse like he is… anything could help.” He said the last part far quieter while looking around at the passersby, making sure no one was eavesdropping on our conversation.

I racked my head trying to bring up the memories of what exactly he was talking about. A vague snippet of conversation bounced off my inner mind. Something to do with Essence, a carriage being heavily guarded, and… a very nervous Antone. Then it clicked.

“Essence shards!” I said more to myself than to him. Still he still immediately wrapped a hand around my mouth and pushed me back slightly into the alleyway. Not far enough that we alerted the angry hobo thankfully.

“Do you want to be fuk’n hanged! People like us can't be yellin’ out stuff like that Antone. Did you hit your head harder than I thought?” He whispered fiercely while still holding a hand over my mouth. I slowly shook my head from side to side making him release me.

“Sorry, I just… I think I've lost a lot of blood. My head isn’t working right.” His eyes searched for mine while I explained. Seeming to accept the explanation. He pulled me along back out of the alley and down the road heading south if my memory was to be trusted. The way he effortlessly guided us through the crowds was impressive considering the confines of the street. Continuing down the road the quality of buildings only deteriorated. Soon enough all around were hastily erected shacks that looked ready to fall from a stiff breeze. Speaking of which, the sun was fading and the wind was carrying a harsher and harsher bite as we walked.

Finally, we turned down one of the twisted trails that made up the maze of shack-like abodes to one that sparked another memory to come flooding back. Many long days ended with the same image in young Antone’s head. The tiny amount of light flickered out of the bottom edge of the door. Which was just a long course piece of material with a heavy branch tied to the bottom.

Still, the ugly planks that made up the shed-sized structure brought a familiar warmth to my body that I welcomed.

We shifted the burlap door out of the way to expose the inside. There stood a small wooden table with a cooking pot on top and two three-legged stools. On one stool sat an older-looking woman, if you look closely underneath the few layers of rags and under the shawl covering her face you would realize she was probably only in her early thirties. Life had not been easy on her and it showed in the scars and wrinkles covering her exposed hands, yet her dark auburn hair had a wavy texture as it escaped the shawl that would be considered lovely if taken care of correctly. Her eyes were a sharp green that glinted with focus as she worked. The obvious tremble in her hands was aggressive but they still were both working tirelessly on a shirt made from the same looking material as the door. It was stained in a few places, but nonetheless, its stitching was of fine quality, both neat and sturdy.

She shifted her eyes off her work up to look at Reny with a small smile and then me with a slightly larger one.

“I was hoping you would be home a little later, though you boys are always up and about far too late if you ask me, but work kept me longer than usual… No matter, come here Antone try it on! I would have liked to wrap it for you but the surprise is second to the gift I suppose. Renold, be a dear and stoke the fire a bit. It's getting a little chilled in here I'm afraid.” the motherly tone she used was pulling at my heartstrings. This woman had no idea that she had lost her son today. It was unfairly cruel, memories of her taking care of Antone for as long as he remembered surfaced.

Learning to read and write to some degree in his earlier years when she still worked for a real seamstress.

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They had a small little home in the eastern district of the town with two bedrooms and a real kitchen where she used to cook him sweets on occasion. It was a simple time, but full of warm memories and happiness.

Then the ‘accident’ happened. He had heard from the town gossip that the recorded story was the local seamstress had fired her accordingly for internal conflicts. The truth was far viler. Apparently, the Duchess herself was so pleased with one of my mother's scarves that she requested to meet the maker personally. This had not gone unnoticed.

The head seamstress could not allow a new, out-of-town hire to gain such privilege. She lied about who had made the scarf, and after making another herself, the Duchess was disappointed at the resulting item. This caused hatred to burn.

The local seamstress whose name I recalled being Ivalda, walked into the shop one day and accused my mother of stealing valuable silk. This of course was ridiculous. Everyone who had bore witness knew there was no truth in the accusation, but still, they did nothing to stop what happened next. She had brought two guards and they searched my mother's travel bag and found said ‘stolen goods’. She had pleaded with them to see reason, trying to appease Ivalda while not understanding what was going on. They had not seen reason. Or more likely were paid to not see it.

Many of the other seamstresses claimed my mother had not shed a single tear while the guards used wooden batons to break her hands. The rage that was flooding through my mind after recounting the tale was difficult to control. She was labeled a thief and could never step foot into the higher rungs of the city even if her skillful weaves and stitching were still of better quality with her ruined hands than most head seamstresses combined. She now worked for a lower rung fishery that paid her next to nothing to repair fishnets for hours without break. This world was truly unfair, the twisted fate his mother experienced hit too close to home.

Realizing I had drifted off into thought for a minute now I refocused. Reny had already saluted my mother and hopped to add small bits of wood into the fire pit in the left-hand corner of the tiny room. It did little to alleviate the cold but without it, I doubt one could even survive the night. There was a reason for the small mat that was located next to the pit, you would not wake up peacefully if you strayed too far from the meager flame.

“Well get over here you. I know it is not much… but I would still like you to try it on to see if it fits. You continue to grow so quickly I can't be sure, you look more and more like your father every day.” I didn't miss the sad tone of voice when she spoke about Antone’s father and the gift. Even after I searched my memory no images popped up, I assumed he had not been prevalent if that was the case. Another pang hit my heart at the sigh of the poor woman holding the shirt up with a sad smile, obviously thinking she had disappointed her son. I quickly threw off my current blood-drenched shirt into the corner. Obviously, the low light inside the home had hidden that fact from her eyes, or else I'm sure her reaction would have been much different. Still, as I quickly walked over to her she saw the dark scab that adorned my chest and gasped.

“Antone what did you get yourself into! That is no small scrape, let me see quickly!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me more directly into the light to closer examine the wound. She gently touched around the sight but never directly on it, which I greatly appreciated. After a few quiet moments with only Reny still moving sticks around trying to pretend he wasn't there did she finally release me.

“I am going to need an explanation quickly, else you both wish to find yourself with more wounds than you can count.” She threatened with a cold tone. Eyeing me and Reny back and forth with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, ma’am to be truthful… the best I've ever counted was three and a half, so I'm hoping we just call it four to be safe.” Reny chose now to joke, but mother had not seen any amusement in the comment. She simply stared daggers into his form. He coughed a few times while rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry ma’am, what I meant to say was we ran into some of the River gang a few blocks away from Mr. Tibbs's place, we tried to reason with em’, but they are an awful stingy lot and wanted nothing but to bash around. Antone here got pushed into a broken barrel and it sliced him a bit, but we got it patched up and it's already healed over pretty nice.” He didn't meet my mother's gaze while speaking, but the fluidity of his lie impressed me, though thinking about all the ‘work’ he and I did for Mr. Tibbs it should have been expected.

Mother slowly looked over at me and searched my expression for any hints at whether it was true or not. I smiled slightly at her while nodding.

“What he said is true, we tried to make them see reason. They, unfortunately, weren't looking for a reasonable outcome, but I'm fine I promise. No lasting harm done… More importantly, let me try on my gift. It looks amazing!” My comment on the shirt made her eyes light up and a beautiful smile grew on her face. I had a hard time keeping it together, this woman had been through enough, and today was not the day to give her more bad news.

“As long as you are alright… but Renold, if you come back with my bloodied son again, I will tie you to the bottom of a fishnet and send it down the river without a second thought. Do you understand?” She kept her smile but it held far different connotations by the end of her speech. I gulped in unison with Reny. She was not a woman to be taken lightly.

“Yes ma’am! I apologize again! I'll let y'all enjoy your evening. Antone, I will see you in the morning for work!” He said this all while backpedaling to the door before breaking off into a dead sprint as he yelled the last part. I chuckled at his fleeing figure.

“That boy is a handful Antone. Do be careful around him. I know you're close friends, but he takes far too many risks than necessary.” Little did she know how true that statement was. I had just fully pulled the shirt over my head and felt the course material scrap my cut. No matter how good the stitching, it still was rougher than anything I'd ever worn back on earth. That brought thoughts of Sarah into my head wearing ridiculously fluffy pajamas trouncing around the house without a care in the world. I smiled sadly thinking how I may never see that with my own eyes ever again.