"What?" Fritz said staring incredulously at the clothier, in her peach, silken shawl and heavy, pink, woollen bed robe. There was something about her lined face and grey eyes that felt familiar but he couldn't guess where he knew her from, or rather, where she obviously knew him from.
"You know this man?" The sergeant asked, kicking Fritz lightly on his newly stolen shoe.
The clothier seemed to think for a moment, glancing around at the suspicious faces of the guards obviously trying to come up with some plausible story.
"He's my... dear... nephew," She replied stiltedly.
"Is that so," The sergeant said sceptically.
"Yes, isn't that right, Francis? I gave you a key in case you were ever in trouble," She said imploringly.
The clothier lady seems to be on my side. Somehow she knows me, knows my name, and I don't know why. But as the Arte Pugilist says: just roll with it, Fritz thought. Let's act the drunken fop for now, that should fool the drizzlers.
"That's right, Auntie," Fritz proclaimed, putting on a drunken grin and subtly slurring his speech.
"I was in a spot of bother you see. I spilt wine. Red wine! All over my shirt, and it simply wouldn't do! You see, I am to be visiting the Baroness Blackbridge at her earliest, or as she put it, her latest convenience," He said suggestively while giving a lecherous smirk. "And I couldn't possibly turn up to her estate covered in wine, even if my shirt is superfluous to the visit. So here I am to get a new one from Auntie, who's always been so good to me."
"What on Epsa are you blathering about?" The sergeant demanded.
A guard leaned into her ear and whispered, "He's saying he was on the way to bed a baroness but ruined his shirt."
"I know that," The sergeant said sternly. "But why were you sneaking about? And why did you run if you were welcome to take from the store?"
"Because he knows I don't approve of his gallivanting and dalliances with married women," The clothier supplied scathingly, catching on and adding to his act.
"And, I don't want to be arrested or fined by the fine folk of the storm guard," Fritz said smiling blandly and nodding his head to the side as if it was too heavy for his neck.
Dusksong sang inside him as he continued his deception, seemingly rejoicing at his performance. He could feel the shifting power tickling his skin making him feel fuzzy and lending a certain flighty weight to his impersonation. Knowing he needed all the help he could get he embraced the energies of Dusksong wholeheartedly.
The sergeant looked from him to the store owner, obviously not swayed but he could tell she was already thinking that this interrogation was more trouble than it was worth. Returning her cold gaze to Fritz she stared hard into his eyes with her of incongruously soft brown irises. As she stared her eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second then her pupils widened slightly. She blinked slowly. Her demeanour shifted somehow and she seemed to be on the edge of letting him go when another guard stepped into the shop from the rain.
"Sergeant Louisa, he knocked out Denton and broke our lantern. And he had this," the drizzler said proffering Quicksilver and placing it with a clatter on the wooden counter just out of Fritz's reach.
The room looked over his fish blade and the sergeant, now broken out of her small daze, raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. When he just looked back at her as if confused she asked, "What is this? Some kind of weapon?"
"Yes!" Fritz stated proudly. "It's Quicksilver, my trusty blade, I found it in the Mer Spire. Anna, sorry, the Baroness, said she wanted to behold my gallant sword so I brought it for her to see," Fritz added, smiling stupidly.
That earned some smirks and chuckles from the guards and even the sergeant shook her head at the ridiculous story.
"You knocked out Denton?" Louisa pressed on.
Fritz shrugged and said, "It was an accident."
The sergeant sighed but undeterred she asked "What did you do to the lanterns?"
"Now, now, a man's Abilities are to be as secret as his Sanctum," Fritz quoted the highly held saying.
"Not when talking to the Storm Guard, 'Francis'," Louisa warned stepping closer and glaring down at him.
"It's as you've already deduced, I have a dispel and a handy Ability to make Stone Pits. I'm a Controller you see," Fritz said pretending to be apprehensive and hoping that the small concession would stop the line of questioning.
"Strange Abilities to get from the Mer Spire," The sergeant stated like it was a question.
"Indeed! My father was able to trade some potent and rare refined seeds off of Jastil merchants, granting me my wonderful Powers," Fritz explained trying to come off as arrogant as possible, like some son of a powerful or wealthy noble.
The remark seemed to have its intended effect as many of the guards either scowled or began to look anxious. Arresting the spoiled sons of nobility was never a great way to climb up the ranks after all. In fact, making an enemy of one of the noble families was a fine way to find oneself patrolling the drowned district without a boat or a head.
The sergeant, much to her credit, didn't seem too put off by the statement and merely nodded, then spotting something out of the corner of her eye she strode over to a crumpled wad of rags. She picked up and unfurled the rent and ruined linen of Fritz's discarded and thoroughly mangled shirt.
"I take it this is yours?" She said returning to stand in front of Fritz and holding out the dripping mess. "It's cut to pieces, it doesn't have just a wine stain, this whole sleeve is missing."
"I fell, may have torn it up a little," Fritz slurred smoothly. "Then I tried to fix it, and well, as you can see, I'm no seamstress."
"I'll say. It looks like it's been through a typhoon," one of the guards added as Louisa frowned and dropped the shirt on the counter with a wet slap.
"A love typhoon!" Fritz burst out. "Though, I prefer the term ro-maelstrom," He hiccuped as the guards chuckled again at his feigned foppishness.
"Right, I've heard enough," Sergeant Louisa interrupted brusquely. "Pay the fines for burglary, wanton violence and dispelling our lantern or we'll have to put you in the stocks."
"Surely not burglary, as there was nothing...burgled," The clothier helpfully interjected.
"Fine, just pay for the violence and the dispel and we'll be on our way," the sergeant snapped.
"And how much will that be good lady?" Fritz slurred, beaming brightly then bringing out his triad purse and picking through the silver within.
Sergeant Louisa narrowed her eyes at Fritz as if trying to come up with a suitably exorbitant sum and replied, "Three gold triads ought to do it."
Knowing complaining about the enormity of the fine would ruin any impression of a wealthy lord's rakish son he'd managed to impart so far, Fritz pulled out the eight silver triads he actually had. Including the one Nic had given him.
"You have found me embarrassed, my gold was seemingly swept away this evening, like silk moths in a storm," Fritz said placing the coinage into the sergeant's outstretched palm.
Louisa stared down at the gleaming silver and her frown deepened as he was two gold triads short of the mark, as each gold was worth nine silver. Fritz could tell she was getting ready to give the order to haul him off to the stocks by the way her stance stiffened.
"I'll cover the fine, give me a moment to fetch the gold from my lockbox," The store owner offered.
Looking annoyed, Louisa nodded and the woman quickly bustled up the stairs and into her rooms, then rapidly returned with three gold triads. They swapped the triads and the sergeant motioned for the guard to follow.
She waited by the door as her men filed out, carrying their still unconscious comrade and with a warning tone she said, "Don't run next time."
Having said all she needed to say she turned and left, closing the front door behind her.
Fritz let out a huge, suffering sigh that tailed into a weary groan.
This encounter with the drizzlers had again shown him why he needed to climb the next Spire as quickly as possible. He needed more power, so he could avoid situations like this or be able to deal with them without having what felt like the whole soaking city come down on him. First, he had the bloody gangs, now the storm guard not to mention the Guides Guild if they found out about his Door Sense.
It was all getting so heavy, having to fight and scheme, trick and lie just to scrape by. It was too much, far too much for one man. It was lucky then, that he still had Bert. Through thick or thin, Spire and fire, Albert would be there.
The thought of his friend's dumb grin heartened him. So instead of wallowing and hunching over Fritz stiffened his spine and hardened his resolve. Letting his fury simmer into searing ambition. There was a better future for him and his friends and family, he just had to fight for it. Just another push, then they’ll get their due, He raged inwardly.
"Francis," A voice softly called out to him as he glared into nothing.
"What?!" He growled. Turning his head sharply and watching the clothier step back in fear.
Guiltily, Fritz took whatever fearsome expression must have been on his face and smiled at the woman in apology.
"Sorry, I was just lost in my own world for a moment… it's been a… hard week," Fritz said in a low reassuring voice.
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"I can see that, though it might be more apt to say you've had a hard couple of years," The lady said.
Fritz nodded solemnly.
"Sorry, your face is familiar and you seem to know me, but for the life of me I can't recall who you are," Fritz said apologetically.
"Oh...yes… I'm Colette and I own this store and make many of its finer pieces myself. As for how I know you well… you might not remember me but I used to do seamstress work and tailor for your family, this was before I got my own shop obviously."
Fritz nodded along finally fitting a name to the face before him and his vague memories of the woman.
"Why help? I mean, thank you, but why? Three triads is a lot of gold to be out," Fritz asked a little perplexed.
Colette harrumphed and said, "It is a lot of gold. But your parents, well your mother really, helped me get a spot in a Climb your father was guiding. It was because of that and her frequent commissions that I even have this place."
"And how could one see the son of their patrons and not help him when he’s in obvious trouble? It would be beyond miserly and cruel to boot," She espoused righteously.
Fritz smiled, liking the woman’s manner more and more as the conversation went on.
"What do I owe you for the clothes then? Now that it's apparent I can't burgle you," Fritz asked.
"Oh it's apparent now?" Colette chided with a sly smile that deepened the small wrinkles around her eyes.
"I don't rob my friends," Fritz grinned back.
She laughed and adjusted her peach silk shawl to guard her against the night’s chill.
"Friends already, my how quickly you presume," She chortled.
"What else could I call someone who just gave away three triads to save me?” Fritz proclaimed.
"Just call me Colette or Ms Colette as you used to," She replied.
"Of course, Ms Colette," Fritz said with a small smile.
"So, will the silvers be enough for what I've taken?" He hopefully hedged.
"Perhaps. But I can't have you walking out with such ill-fitting garments. It would be a stain on my honour as a seamstress. So let me have a look at them first, do you have anywhere to be?" She asked.
"I’m in no rush, but I'm heading to see my younger siblings," Fritz explained as he reluctantly removed the deep-purple almost black coat.
"Oh and how are they… holding up?" Colette asked as she took the offered garment and placed it on the counter.
"Well, enough I suppose, better than me. As I was thrown out of the orphanage years ago," Fritz said.
"You were?!" Colette said startled.
"I was," Fritz said. "Been on the street for a while now, and I just got out of a Spire… the Mer Spire, that's why all my clothes are torn to shreds," He quickly lied.
"Mhm. Still, that's no reason to go stealing. Especially up here," She said sternly.
"I was desperate," Fritz said. When Colette gave him a disbelieving glare he relented, "Okay, maybe I was greedy, I just saw that magnificent coat and had to have it."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," She stated as she begun to measure Fritz with a long spool of marked tape, but he could tell from the joy that radiated from her that it absolutely would.
"Well, go upstairs and to the left, take off the clothes put them in a basket, place it outside the door and dry off with one of the towels," Colette said in a torrent of orders.
Fritz shrugged inwardly and complied, trudging up the stairs and finding the small room. Within there was a large brass bathtub, a tall mirror and a multitude of deliciously soft towels. The air of the upper level was warmer and carried a mild scent of floral perfumes and dried flowers that soothed his raw nerves.
He did as he was told and stripped and dried off, then waited for the clothes, that he had stolen, to be returned.
He stared into his reflection and his eyes ran over his skinny scarred body, his dark hair and his strangely changed eyes, they were now a green mottled with purple just as Sid had said. Though he was still thin he no longer looked starved and he was even beginning to put on the shadow of muscles. Just you wait, you'll soon be cured of spindel-itus, he told himself as he stretched and flexed.
He heard the basket being whisked away and thought on his current naked predicament, he hoped this wasn't some strange scheme.
What an oddly lucky coincidence, to rob the clothier that owed your mother, too lucky even, his cynical mind provided. Don't go questioning the good fortune too much. What could she possibly have to gain from helping you? No, Colette's story seems to ring with truth, he argued inwardly, but there was something about the whole situation that made him feel like there was some old debt being repaid.
It resonated with the favour he had promised to the Duskmoth but had yet to be called in. It was almost as if he could hear the clinking of the ephemeral chains wrapped around his Sanctum.
He shivered, and not from the cold, the bathroom was quite warm all things considered.
A knock came from the door and it startled Fritz out of his reflections. He must’ve drifted off as he didn’t know when or even how long he sat on the bathtubs lip.
"Clothes are done," Colette's voice rang out with a tone of pride. "When you're ready come show me how they fit."
He waited for the cushioned sounds of her steps on the carpeted upper floor to move away. Once he trusted she wasn't lingering at the door for some nefarious purpose, like stabbing him. He opened and shut the door quickly pulling in the basket with his newly tailored clothes.
They fit like a dream, and though the shirt and pants were a little damp from his fall and the rain he felt miles better. The kind clothier had even added a charcoal-coloured vest for him to put over his white shirt which he now noticed had a crest embroidered over his heart. It was a small circle enclosing a crashing wave all in light blue thread. He recognised it as the Hightide crest, his family's crest, and his eyes misted slightly.
He pushed away the pain and fought down the fury of the bleak reminder, but he wore the shirt and the crest on it anyway, bearing it stoically like an exile's brand. What else could he do?
Stooping and sighing, he quickly laced up his shoes. wishing he still had his boots from the Spire. He eased some his of anger by reconciling it with the fact that he'd have his revenge soon enough. Oh yes, he'd get his boots back and then Kev was going to pay.
He looked himself over in the mirror and thought he cut quite the dashing figure, the deep purple of the coat matched the subtle purple shading of his striking green eyes. Had his eyes always been that intensely green? He shook his head not wanting to preen in front of a mirror for an hour like a parrot or like Bert for that matter.
Fritz had places to be and he longed to be off to see his brother and sister but it wouldn't do to just up and disappear on Colette. Not after the kindness she’d shown or how much she'd already done for him.
Swinging open the door he turned to his left and followed down a hallway down which he could hear the dull boiling of a kettle and the bustling steps of Colette. He passed by a small workroom of some sort, complete with fine fabrics, sharp scissors, many needles and copious coloured threads all haphazardly arrayed on a desk and the packed shelves. He was surprised at how messy the workstation was but didn't intend to mention it to her, he was sure there was some method to the madness.
He stepped into what he supposed was a sitting room as it had all the niceties with plush comfortable chairs, seats and cosy tea table lit by the warm light of a fireplace. He placed himself in front of the hearth within moments and began to wring and warm his cold hands.
Colette walked in holding a polished steel tray laden with two porcelain cups and a white teapot painted with intricate pink flowers. She jumped when she noticed him standing there quietly and squeaked as a cup tumbled off the jostled tray. Fritz deftly caught it, snatching it out of the air and replacing it on the platter before it could fall.
Hiding her embarrassment, Colette quickly placed the tray down on the small table while muttering "Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack. You shouldn't sneak up on ladies like that."
"I didn't sneak up on anyone, I was just standing here," He refuted.
"Well I didn't hear you trudge in, at least make some noise so you don't scare me half to death next time," Colette chided amiably while busying herself preparing the tea.
"You're right, I'm sorry. Still getting used to… things. And the new outfit," Fritz said opening his arms and showing off how the clothing fit.
She turned and looked him up and down with a discerning eye then nodded in satisfaction, “Yes, it all fits nicely and you look wonderful! Every bit the young, dashing lord. Well, save for than nasty bruise, did the drizzl- the guard do that?”
Fritz smiled at the compliments and shook his head saying, “No, this was from a different set of thugs.”
Colette frowned for a moment but seeing as Fritz didn’t elaborate any further she implored, "Come sit, have some tea and biscuits before you go."
She opened the tin and revealed the pale shortbread within.
Fritz was about to make excuses and refuse her hospitality but after a week and more of eating nothing but the terrible monster meat or the even worse rations, he couldn't pass up such a delight.
He sat and took one of the biscuits, biting into its buttery, crumbly sweetness with a small groan.
It was wonderful.
How long had it been since he'd had something with sugar? He rapidly went for another as his previous shortbread had seemed to disappear in moments. Colette smiled and poured him a cup of steaming tea while humming a tuneless song to herself.
When he was done with a second biscuit and was enjoying the hot, dark, bittersweet tea Colette asked him a question, but he was so preoccupied with the extraordinary flavours and their delicious depths that he had to ask her to repeat herself. Once his mouth wasn’t full.
"I asked, what are you doing with yourself? Are you looking for gainful employment or is thievery your preferred profession? Because if it is I can't say I approve, your mother wouldn't either," She scolded lightly.
Fritz winced at the mention of his mother and Colette saw it and said, "Sorry. My mouth runs quicker than my sense sometimes.”
“How well did you know her?” Fritz inquired, brushing off the comment. “I know you said she helped you out with a Climb slot but was that all there was to it?”
“I knew her as well as any dressmaker knows her clientele, which is to say we were friends,” Colette replied.
“I was originally from the Sunken Ring and was apprenticed to a seamstress up here. Your mother had what one might call a wardrobe malfunction right in the street as I was walking to work,” She said, beginning a tale it seemed she had told on many occasions.
“Her dress had torn right down the seam in a most scandalous manner so I ran to help, then escorted her quickly and covertly to my Master’s shop where I fixed her dress post haste. She was impressed with my precise stitching and quiet candour. The averted disaster formed something of a bond between us, so she called upon me, that is to say the shop, often. Much to my Master’s delight, as having a noble patron is likely to gather more attention to your designs.” Colette explained proudly.
“From there I was selected as Claire’s, sorry lady Hightide’s personal dress maker and I was in and out of your estate for years. I also made clothes for you children, formal wear for both your mother, and your father, who always had such… exacting standards. Rewarding my dedication and care, your generous mother had me carried up the rest of the Mer Spire so I could reach the tenth level and for that I will be ever grateful,” She finished, smiling fondly at the memory.
“Oh, you’re level ten?” Fritz said surprised.
“It’s a great boon to have a Path, and almost required to work for the nobility,” Colette informed him with pride. “All the close and fine stitch work requires some enhanced Attributes you know, but I’ll let you guess as to which those are.”
“Never met an artisan Pather before,” Fritz mused. “What kind of Abilities do you have, do you have a technique?” He added rudely. He was about to apologise when Colette smiled sweetly as if it were no grave overreach.
“Its not all that interesting, as I didn’t do any of the fighting I got most of the generic offerings of the Mer Spire and some that related to my Path and tailoring activities. Deep Lungs, Cold Resistance, Mend Cloth, Remove Stain, Steady Hands, Weavers Touch, Conjure Thread, those and the Awards,” She said listing her Powers and shrugging. “Nothing quite as powerful as your dispel and stone shaping abilities,” She winked.
A little disappointed at the mundane nature of Colette’s Abilities and reluctant to share his own Fritz turned back to the subject of his mother, which she indulged at length with a smile.
After telling a couple of amusing stories about both his parents her demeanour went suddenly imploring and she softly said, “You know, you don’t have to be a thief. You could come work for me, be an apprentice here. With how quickly and precisely you moved catching that tea cup you would make a fine tailor, in time.”
Fritz didn’t dismiss the offer out of hand, it was something many an urchin would dream of, an escape to a trade that provided solid work and even more solid pay. But he knew it was only wishful thinking, there was no way he’d be able to stay so still or be so… meagre. He felt that he needed to become powerful, great and fearsome or he would be hunted, hounded and scared for the rest of his days.
“No. I’m grateful for the offer but it’s not what I want to do. I’m going to Climb,” Fritz promised.
“Well, can’t blame a lady for trying. And your mother would be proud of you no matter what you did, as long as you're happy. I believe that's always what she wanted for you three," She said confidently.
Sighing Fritz thought on what she said and made sure not to shed any tears from the sweet certainty in her words. He took another biscuit from the proffered tin and bit into it enjoying the taste and the sudden swirl of warm reassurance that stirred within.
“Would you like to sleep in the guestroom, get some rest before you got to visit little Elliot and tiny Thea?” She offered.
Colette was nice, too nice really, to a thief like Fritz. So he decided not to impune on her hospitality any longer.
He stood and politely said, “No I must be off, I have much to do. I simply can’t keep sitting around drinking tea and eating shortbread. No matter how much of a delight your company has been. I cannot rely on your good grace in good conscience any longer. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you. For getting me out of trouble, but also for the memories, and kindness you’ve shown me.”
Colette smiled sadly, pity underlying her gentle gaze. And nodded solemnly.
“I would ask one more favour,” Fritz said straightening out his coat and vest.
“And what favour is that?” She hedged, shuffling her shoulders uncertainly.
“Could I possibly take some of those biscuits to Eli and Thea?” He asked.
She beamed at the request, replaced the biscuit tin’s lid and standing up and walked to where he stood by the door handed it and his eight silvers over to him. Fritz had a mind to refuse the triads but quickly discarded the idea when he saw Colette’s determined smile which brooked no argument. That and he really did need the coin.
“Don’t let them get soggy, or stale for that matter,” Colette warned gently.
“I wont,” Fritz replied, securing the tin under his vest and returning his triads to an inner pocket of his coat.
“And don’t be a stranger, come back any time. Though preferably not so late as this,” She said.
“I will,” He promised.
“Goodbye Francis, it was good to see you,” Colette said embracing him in a warm hug which he returned awkwardly.
“Bye. And thanks again,” He said gratefully.
The hug broke, Fritz turned and stepped down the stairs, his feet, heart and shoulders feeling lighter than they had been in years. He searched for Quicksilver and upon not seeing his sword he felt a dread sink into his gut. Did the drizzlers steal it?
Fritz was about to yell in frustration when Colette bustled down the stairs holding a long package wrapped in up in linen like one would wrap a wound with bandages.
“I almost forgot, here’s your sword,” She said, pressing the covered blade into his hand. “It’s very sharp, I’d get a hilt and a scabbard on that thing post haste if I were you. In fact I have a friend down in the steam district who can do it for you. Ask for Bruce in the Anchorwrought Smithy. Tell him I sent you. I trust you wont have forgotten my name again by then,” Colette said mischievously.
He nodded and said his thanks again pulled his bundled sword close.
With that he stepped out into Rain City as its peoples and animals began to wake, the quacks and calls of the morning ducks and birds reaching his ears, signalling the coming of the dawn.
For once in a long time Fritz felt truly hopeful.
He wished it would last.