20

Mick and Lill celebrated their success by going to Bennington Food Court, home to her favorite kebab shop in the whole of the city. Though it was the kind of chilly day that merited buttoning up your coat, the open plaza was still a nice place to be what with its generous number of artificed heaters and its paper-thin, transparent wind repellent barriers keeping the place nice and toasty.

There were six different eateries surrounding the inner food court, all competing for the custom of hungry Full Striding folk. At the same time, they were fighting a different battle, too. The kebab shop – Pete’s Pittas – had a sign that read, ‘Please be nice to the cats.’ They even left out saucers of milk for the strays to drink from. Whereas the adjoining grilled cheese eatery boasted an even bigger sign warning customers not to feed the stray felines.

Mick didn’t much like politics, but he sided with the grilled cheese folks on this issue. Striding had a stray moggy problem centered around its eateries. The damned things were breeding like they were trying to build an army, and they were always begging for scraps. It got so when you were ordering food, you practically had to factor in a portion for the cats, too, just so they’d leave you alone.

“Sorry, Lill. Can’t eat here. Need somewhere with fewer furballs hanging around.”

“They won’t bother us once we shoo ‘em away.”

“Maybe not, but give me another five minutes and the hives will start breaking out.”

“Dairy and cats?” said Lill. “Saints above, you got dealt a rough hand.”

Mick nodded. “Sorry. Looks a nice place, but if we can find somewhere else…”

“Relax. I’m exactly the same as you with grass and flowers. Do you know how much I hate people who don’t have to worry about waking up on a sunny day with their eyes on fire? Sometimes, I walk past General Peter’s Park and see people lounging on the grass, and I wish they’d get set on by a bunch of bees or something. Oh – bees. That’s another on my list. You?”

“Not sure,” said Mick. “Never been stung.”

“Anyhow, I can help,” she said, while sticking her hand in her pocket. She pulled out a vial half-filled with some purple powder inside it.

Mick took out a vial of his own, only his powder was orange. “Snap,” he said. “But we’re only meant to take this stuff if we trigger things off, you know, accidentally. It’s not some kind of life jacket that lets you go swimming in fur and pollen.”

“No, no. Mine’s a preventative. Take a pinch, and the moggies won’t bother you one bit. Trust me.”

Mick did want to eat here. The food smelled so delicious, and it’d be great to just sit down outside somewhere without worrying and his throat starting to itch. It was funny, he supposed, how some people might just take it for granted. He always yearned to stroke a cat or pet a dog like any regular person would. The idea of being so carefree, it was a dream to him. Most people didn’t think twice about it, but Mick would have given a kidney to be able to walk down a street, see a friendly pooch, and just kneel down and stroke it without thinking twice. Lill’s offer was tempting. Real tempting. And that was what made him dubious.

“This stuff works?” he said.

“Mother got me an appointment with a healer who works with the guards sometimes. Everett Kieler. She’s one of the best.”

“Is it prescription?”

“Nope. Anyone can use it.”

“Surprised I haven’t heard of the stuff,” said Mick.

“Healer Kieler’s traveled some, and she does things a little differently than most of the quacks you find ‘round here. Uses a lot of medicines you don’t see in Easterly at all, come to that. Sit down, try it. Oh, come on, live a little! Oh, wait – actually, exactly how bad is your allergy?”

“Sore eyes, that kind of thing.”

“Not really severe, then?”

“On the low end of the scale, I’d say. There are people who have it worse.”

“Okay, good, this’ll be fine then. If you had a really bad one, I wouldn’t risk it. Not worth it. But if we’re talking red eyes and a scratchy throat, this’ll work a treat.”

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“Any side effects?” asked Mick.

“No. Just don’t use it on the regular. Loses its effect.”

What the heck, he thought. Maybe this was a time for doing things he wouldn’t ordinarily do. A new chapter in a book where the tale was growing stale. Ever since he got back from traveling all those years ago, he’d barely strayed even an inch from the routines that guided his daily life. Running twice per day. Eating meals at set times. There was safety in them, those habits, but also a hefty amount of finger twiddling. Not that he’d actually felt bored, but now that he was changing things, he was more and more beginning to realize that the drudgery had been there.

“You’re sure this stuff works?”

“On my honor,” said Lill. “Trust me. The last thing I would ever do is lead my allergy buddy astray. If you had a headache and I offered some relief powder, would you take it?”

“Well, sure.”

“This is no different.”

Lill handed the vial to him, and he took a pinch of the powder. It tasted chalky. She told him it’d take fifteen or twenty minutes to start working, and that Pete served his kebabs up quicker than you’d expect. Rather than order food straight away and have their food go cold, they took a quick walk around the block before heading back to the court.

Fifteen or so minutes later, sitting at a table just off from the center of the court, Mick didn’t feel different at all. Then, he realized that a cat was right behind him, perched on a flower pot. He didn’t know how long it had been there, but his throat wasn’t scratchy or anything.

“This stuff is amazing,” he said.

“Like I said, don’t get used to it. Use it too often, and it stops working. Save it for when you, you know, need to go visit Uncle Stan at Yulthor or something, and he lives with twelve cats.”

“Does it work with dairy?”

“No, different kind of thing. Sorry. Now, this is on me. My treat.”

“You kidding? I owe you for introducing me to Mistress Lee.”

“Mistress Lee? She’s Sammy. Or Aunt Sammy, if you really insist on being polite.”

“She’s my mentor now,” said Mick. “Custom dictates I have to call her ‘mistress.’”

“Wonder who I’ll get allocated to?”

“Your ma didn’t fix it for you in advance?” said Mick.

Lill shook her head. “She said I’m on my own. When I’m in the station, she doesn’t even know my name. I’m just another greener looking for a token. I’m Trainee Gill.”

Two waiters made a beeline for their table at the same time, and only when the taller one reached them first did the other admit defeat and head back to the bar to await new diners.

“Are you ready to order?” asked the waiter.

“Four beers, my friend,” said Lill. “It is happy hour, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, madam.”

“Okay. We’ll have four of your finest, coldest, brews, and I’ll take the chili beef wrap.”

“Sir?”

Mick ordered grilled chicken pieces served on a flatbread and layered with olive oil, onions, peppers, pomegranate, and generous helpings of spiced non-dairy yoghurt. It was so delicious he could have inhaled it within a second, but since he had company, he forced himself to eat slower. That used to be a problem for him, finishing his meal before the person he was dining with and then having to sit there fidgeting awkwardly and sipping on his water.

“Why are you eating like that?” said Lill, taking a huge bite out of her burger.

“Like what?”

“Little mouthfuls, like you’re a bird feeding its chicks.”

“You know what? You’re right,” said Mick. He cut off a giant portion of his flatbread, piled it with chicken, peppers, and onions, and stuffed it in his mouth.

As they ate, Lill told him a little more about what it was like growing up with a high ranking city guard inspector as a mother. The late callouts, the long hours. Sometimes, she wouldn’t see her mother for two or three days at a time. Since her father had skipped out long ago, that meant Lill had to look after herself on the odd occasion.

Mick had wanted to learn more about her pa, but didn’t want to ask. Maybe she could read that in his expression or maybe she was just feeling talkative, but she told him anyhow. Turned out that her father got caught fudging the numbers in some of the books he looked after as an accountant. Brenda Glass hadn’t wanted to divorce him even then, after what he did, but it was either do that or lose her career. After all, a high ranking inspector married to a fraudster? Didn’t really work out, did it?

Lucas Gill served his time in Striding jail. He went in as a greedy accountant who got caught because he was a bad criminal and got careless, and he came out as the appointed ‘numbers man’ for a group of brigands called the Lovely Lads, whose name was drenched in irony. Assessing targets, pricing up loot, dealing with fences who’d get rid of it for them – that was the purview of the new Lucas Gill. And why not? It wasn’t like he could work as a legit accountant anymore.

Lill hadn’t seen him since visiting him in jail one afternoon. That had been an experience she didn’t want to repeat, and so she hadn’t. Since then, the man had been a phantom. She was thinking of changing her name, getting rid of the ‘Gill’ and replacing it with ‘Glass’.

She took a glug of beer. “But anyway, forget him. I want to get something straight. All that stuff about me being home alone. Before you go thinking Mother was neglectful, she always had our neighbor, Linda Carlisle, look in on me. And she left plenty of gold for me to go order food. Also, we had our two wolfhounds, Shep and Mep, the saints rest their slobbering souls.”

“Wolfhounds, huh? A fella I know keeps a bunch of them.”

“Lovely animals. They could tear a person’s head clean off if they wanted to, but if they like you, then that’s that. You’re in their pack for life. So, it wasn’t all that bad. Aunt Sammy always checked in on me, too. Even if she was working.”

“Sounds like inspectors, sleuths, detectives, they’re always working. What are we getting ourselves into?”

Lill stabbed a fried potato with her fork. “You’ll be okay. Can’t imagine much happening in a place like Sunhampton except maybe a loaf of bread going missing.”

“You’d be surprised. I had to solve a kidnapping recently.”

“Really?” said Lill.

“Well, it was of a pig. A pignapping. But still…”