Brady sat on the ground, shouting at people and unable to stop the smile breaking across his face. The world bustled around him, people hurrying between stalls in the market and ignoring him as he reached out to them with the wishing stone in his hand. He'd snagged a few people, but he was mostly glad to be sitting down after two nights of sleeping in a pile of hay. It had not been good for his leg or really any part of his body, but the new cane was already a game changer. He hadn't realized the stress on his shoulders from walking around with the old one until he got rid of it. Unfortunately, the nice, finished wood look of his new cane didn't fit the whole poor beggar thing, but all he had to do was spend an hour or so learning how to banish it and he could get back to his job.
Brady cooed out at the crowd as a man stepped up to him.
"Your fortune, sir!" Brady said as he turned and looked at the man through the focus of the wishing stone. He was surprised to see another vision of Adam, but as he pulled the stone away, he put together the nice shoes and full black attire of the servant standing in front of him. He looked slightly disgusted, just how Brady liked them.
"Mister Hesler wanted to give you a message," he said, but Brady threw back his head in a cackle before he could get it out.
"That prick actually told him about my dinner request? It's my lucky day, please tell me."
"He'd like to meet you at the Honey Mead Inn this evening, but he's asked me to inform you he has a better location in mind. Something a little nicer," the man scowled at him, and Brady frowned.
"Does he want me to shower? I'm afraid that's a deal breaker."
"Then I'll let Mister Hesler know--"
"No! If he wants to buy me dinner, I won't stop him. Tell him I'll see him this evening." The man smiled thinly and turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd as Brady thought. "Something nicer" wasn't a very specific description, but he couldn't imagine Adam having the audacity to bring him to some high-end restaurant, not with this face. But he could acknowledge he was grimy, even for the Honey Mead Inn's standards.
He began to rise, summoning his cane and making his way West. There was a river that ran through town, he'd seen the washing women doing laundry down that way. Maybe he could bear to wash off the stink of hay.
At about six in the evening, Brady finally made it to the Honey Mead Inn. Patrons buzzed all around the front entrance, coming in and out in drunken messes. People were laughing loudly just outside, passing around bottles and cigarettes as they waited for food or took in the atmosphere. The food wasn't particularly good here, but it was cheap and came in large quantities, making it a favorite for people more down on their luck like Brady. He'd indulged just a few times, opting to save his money for beds, when he could. He was almost jealous of everyone who could afford to pass up the luxury and walk the next morning, but he didn't see the point in holding it against them.
He picked his way through the crowd, unsure where Adam might be but confident he'd spot him instantly. A noble would stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd like this, all he had to do was catch sight of his stupid blacks and prim posture like he had a sign reading "Easy pickings" taped to his back.
Brady pushed through a line of people and finally saw him, head held high as he looked around like a confused puppy. Albeit a very handsome confused puppy, Brady admitted.
Adam had shirked his fancy jackets and pearl white gloves for something only a little less conspicuous. His shoes looked somewhat worn, at least they weren't polished, but his pants had nary a stray hair on them. His black shirt had gleaming buttons up the front and was rolled up to his elbows as he wrung his hands nervously, then stopped, then started at it again. Brady was half surprised to see he was alone, he thought Adam might've been rich enough to insist on bringing a guard.
Adam's eyes found him as the clack of his cane got louder, and Brady watched the tension melt off of his face. He strode through the crowd easily and met him halfway.
"I'm glad you came," he said.
"Someone had to rescue you, you look like you have a million gold stuffed up your butt." Brady took in the look of him one more time. "You dirty-up nicely, Hesler."
Adam looked down at himself in concern. "Do I look dirty?" Brady noted his perfectly manicured nails and laughed.
"Not at all. I heard you had a better spot in mind than the Honey Mead?" His leg was aching badly and he was not relishing standing here as people pushed past him and he fought to keep his balance. Adam nodded and offered his arm.
Brady took it, letting himself get pulled out of the ruckus. Adam was big enough that people seemed to split around him, so Brady kept to his wake, and they were out in a matter of seconds.
"Honey Mead is admittedly a nicer place than I was expecting," Adam began as he led the way through town, walking slowly so Brady could keep pace.
"You obviously didn't go inside then. It's about as nice as I am."
"Fair enough, I thought I was pushing my luck standing outside, anyway."
"So you know you look like a walking target and yet you still came alone?" Adam glanced down at him, a coil of his black hair falling forward and out of his slicked-back style.
"I was alone when we met."
"My point still stands. I look as homeless as I am and people still steal from me. You're either very confident or very stupid." Adam bit his tongue and Brady hit him lightly with his cane. "I'm joking, Hesler."
"Please call me Adam," he said quickly, but he was at ease again. Stupid, Brady decided, but a smile still split his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you at the hospital the other day, I was indisposed." That's one way to say, 'Getting my shoulder relocated', Brady thought, remembering the vision he'd gleamed off of George.
"You stuck me with that not-nurse, it was quite a hassle," Brady kidded, watching Adam nod in thought.
"I'm working on repaying both of you. I'm at your service tonight, Mister Canely." Brady let out a barking laugh and he caught the flash of a grin on Adam's face.
After a few minutes of walking, Adam directed him to a sleek store-face and held the door open for him to enter. It was warm inside and smelled like caramelized butter, nearly making Brady swoon. The floor was polished wood and there were tables half occupied all around the room. It was leagues quieter than the Honey Mead, and the lighting was decidedly more romantic.
As Adam directed him to a table, Brady sitting down with a groan, he asked what he could order him. "Anything with meat. Big. You left me waiting for hours, remember."
"Obviously, you can have the biggest meat in house." He winked, and Brady almost laughed. It was hard to tell what might've been a flirtatious remark versus what was a noble trying to fix his reputation, but Brady didn't mind so long as Adam delivered on his word. He got distracted by a bad ache in his leg, trying to massage it and finding his skin protesting loudly at being rubbed.
When Adam returned, he brought two glasses of ale with him.
"I wasn't sure you drank," Brady said, cupping a hand around his glass.
"I don't much, but it seemed appropriate. I don't intend to cut corners." Brady shook his head.
"I can't imagine having enough money to buy beer because it 'seemed appropriate'. I've been eating stale bread just to save up for a room again."
"You don't have a room anywhere?" Brady searched Adam's face for a hint of pity or surprise, but he had to concede that he'd literally called himself homeless a few minutes ago.
"All my money was stollen and I got kicked out of the boarding room I was renting. Thankfully, someone was kind enough to get me this nifty wishing stone so I could make a few coins." He fished the stone from his pocket and set it on the table between them as he spoke. Adam sat back in his chair. Brady noticed curiously that he wasn't moving his head very much.
"What do you use it for? I'm not well versed."
"Scams mostly." Brady tried to keep his face neutral as Adam frowned deeply, but he broke into a fit of laughter at sight of it. "Honestly, I just get people to pity me enough to throw coins at me. But I do use it for divination. I use the stone to reveal what's in people's minds, their wishes and desires and memories. I just use whatever I see to make them happy, pays better."
"For example?"
"For example," Brady put on his weary voice, "You will get pregnant! Your true love will ask you to marry him. You're going to become very wealthy." He dropped it. "Things like that."
"Seems like a very lucrative business from one stone. I thought it was peculiar that you only bought that and the sleeping tea herbs."
"You knew I was going to make sleeping tea?" Brady asked, blinking through his surprise.
"I have lots of interest in ingredients and herbs. And teas." Adam was interrupted and turned as a woman appeared beside them with two hot plates, a few more stuffed into her arms as she rolled through the shop with food. Brady didn't turn, instead enraptured by the shifting shadows over Adam's eyes, the way his skin disappeared and reappeared as he blinked, revealing teeth and chalky bone.
Adam looked back to Brady and watched him cock his head curiously, his blood running cold. I turned, he chided himself. You should've taken him somewhere brighter! But Brady didn't say anything, instead digging into his meal.
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There was a big cut of corned beef on his plate, red and so tender it pulled apart under a soft tug of his fork. Potatoes and collard greens made up the rest of the dish, covered in a thick brown gravy that made Brady drool. He stuffed his face for a few minutes before he glanced back at the noble across from him, who somehow looked paler than usual. Despite that, he sat with a soft smile on his face, picking at his dish half-heartedly as he watched Brady eat.
"Did you see something?" Adam asked after a few moments, looking down at his plate. Brady thought of the number of ways he could answer.
"On your face? I'm not one to comment." Brady smiled and watched Adam glance up at him, his eyes studying the right side of his face.
"I suppose it's indecent to ask how you got those scars?"
"Ran over by a wagon," Brady said easily. Adam raised a brow at him. "Struck by lightning," he corrected, then pretended to think as he said, "Actually, I think I made the priest mad, and he cursed me. Or I was born this way. Take your pick." He paused before he asked, "How come you can look like a skeleton?"
Adam tensed on the other side of the table, clenching his fork in a fist. After a few seconds, he tried to relax, answering before he put a bite of food in his mouth. "Born this way."
~'~'~
Although the sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky pink and purple as the day waned, the city was not beginning to settle. In the low town, people scurried between open bars and inns to eat their fill after a long day at work. Others set out from empty warehouses to begin theirs, pick pockets and swindlers looking for coin as the drinks flowed.
There were women laughing loudly with their partners and men whooping and hollering at each other. On one corner, a man performed prestidigitation tricks to a small crowd, making fireworks burst in the air around them. Occasionally, a guardsman would walk down the street, but his head was always turned towards the inns as he waited for his break, unafraid of stray hands reaching into his pockets. So long as the riff raff maintained a berth on the guards, it kept their eyes glazed over and that left plenty more loose-pouched patrons to pick from.
There was such a bustle of activity on this road that many people should have seen the figure lurking in the middle of it, circling a heavy iron lid dug into the ground and eyes flicking over the crowd as quick as a hummingbird. He waited for another burst of fireworks from the man at the corner to crouch down and move the lid, scraping loudly on the cobblestones, but if you'd have asked anyone on the street, they would've sworn no one was standing there.
He was down on the ladder in an instant, the cover pulled over his head and descending into the darkness with no one the wiser. He had a small backpack with him, stuffed with spoils from the week and far too light for his liking. At least it didn't slow him down any, and he jumped the last few rungs of the ladder to land in stale water.
The sewer had been abandoned and sealed off by the city as it grew, leaving it for the mice and miscreants to fight over. They'd struck a harmony when the Brotherband swept in and took it for themselves, mostly young boys itching for fights but some older guys seeing the potential to make names for themselves. Since then, the young boys had grown up to replace the older men, and they never lost their taste for violence.
Nathan was part of the new wave of Brothers, boys picked off the street for being stupid and putting their hands in the wrong places. He knew many of their faces from before joining the gang, having slept alongside them in masses up top, in alleyways the guards never patrolled. Thankfully, he'd kept his distance from them, which made all the murders bearable.
Nathan slung the backpack from his shoulders and entered a large cavern built under the city, wooden boards placed over the stagnant canals like a web of bridges connecting bricked patios. They'd strung lanterns from the ceiling, but there were some floating orbs of light too, alerting Nathan to whom might be in the base tonight. Most of them didn't have any magic at all.
He skipped over a wood plank and made himself lower his hood, even though he hated the idea of flaunting his face. But they'd learned a lot of hard lessons lately about slinking around in the sewers, so it was a risk he had to take.
He came up to a big man in a red apron, his arms crossed as he looked out over the bustle of bodies in the base today. He nodded at Nathan as he began opening the pack and sorting through it, but his eyes didn't stray from the crowd.
"Quite an audience tonight," Nathan said quietly under his breath, but the man harumphed and turned his back to it.
"Horace's got something planned for tonight. They all want to see it."
"We should make this quick then," Nathan said, and he poured the contents of his bag on the table set against the wall. He'd taken out things he'd bought in the market, but the rest was for the treasury, as the man, Yvan, leaned over it and investigated his offer. There were bits of jewelry - bracelets and rings - a pouch of coins he'd picked off many bodies, and some nice fabrics. Nathan leaned against the table, one eye on the crowd, as Yvan thought.
"I'd say 95 for the whole lot."
"You sure you can't get that number up higher? Took a lot of work to get that cloth here."
"I could get the number higher if you brought more. It's not a bad haul, boy." Yvan swept up the items and unlocked the door on the wall, placing his things inside. The older man had been with the gang since it took over the sewer, and he'd learned from the last generation how to keep their books. Yvan was the one guy you could trust with an honest exchange down here, and he made friends with lots of the new recruits like Nathan. They all had debts to pay off through him.
Nathan was about to slip away when there was a crashing sound from all directions. He watched the whole gang drop low as the ceiling rained pebbles, turning to look at all the pipes leading into the base. They'd been sealed by stone walls in less than an instant.
"Brothers!" came a roar, and Nathan felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He stuck with Yvan as they hung against the wall, trying to pick out faces in the crowd. "Would you believe what the cat drug in?"
Then he saw him, Horace Gaudet dragging a Brother by the scruff of his neck into the center of the room. The crowd exploded into shouts as they recognized who was in his hand and goaded on by Horace's evil smile.
"Caught with enough money to pay half of your gambling debts!" Horace cried to the crowd, throwing around the boy in his hand. His name was Samuel, and Nathan had known him a long time. Not particularly smart, definitely a bigger pain in the ass than he was a help, and always picking bad fights. Nathan wished he felt less grief at recognizing him.
Samuel snarled in his hand, kicking at the stones but not making much struggle for Horace who tripled his size. He was a big man with a bigger sense of vengeance, and he'd been vying for sole control of the Brotherband for the last few weeks. He wasn't the crowd's favorite as much as he was a dangerous bet to lose. There'd been a lot of losing this week.
"Do you know how one of us rats gets money like that?" The crowd jeered and began shouting out names, "The Black Shadows", "The Mothers!", "The fucking Grave Hags!", all names of other gangs in the low town. Being partnered with another one was certain death for a Brother, as well as a great way to get out of debt. The trick was not to get caught.
"Crawling around with the Grave Hags and disrespecting the Brothers that gave him a home. Do you know what we do to scavengers, boys?" He put Samuel on his feet as his other fist flew through the air, striking his cheek. Samuel spun as he fell to the ground, spitting blood. Nathan forced himself not to turn away, but he didn't jeer as more blows rained down on him, some from Horace but many more from the other boys. Between the bobbing limbs, it was hard to see Samuel's body until Horace hoisted him into the air again. Some of his fingers were broken and an eye was swollen shut, but he still fought like a rodent in his grip.
Horace commanded the boys around him to get the rope, and it was in his hand mere seconds later. Then it was around Sam's neck and he fought them viciously with his nails. Either he was going to hang, or someone would accidentally kill him before he even got off the ground. Nathan hoped someone would finish him off early, for his sake more than Samuel's.
But if there was one thing the boys liked more than their knives, it was kicking around the pinata as his face turned blue. Sam rose into the air, grabbing at the rope but useless to do anything now. He choked but hands reached out to beat him still. Nathan finally tore his eyes away as the sound of his gurgling cries were swallowed in jeers. He had is arms crossed against his chest, or else someone might have noticed them trembling as he watched another Brother die.
There was a gust of cold air as the stone walls came down all around the chamber, and Nathan figured Samuel must've been well and dead now. Horace needed word of his example to spread quickly, both as a warning to other rats and to the Brothers he wanted to take control from. It was the third lynching this week - no one could argue he wasn't getting results.
Yvan clapped him on the shoulder and Nathan took that as his cue to get out of there. He didn't care so much about having his hood up now as he saw some others fleeing, young kids like him. He knew a few of them had just seen a life-long acquaintance murdered, and it left something broken in your psyche. Another face from their childhoods had been crossed out.
It was surprisingly cool above ground, especially compared to the cramped room in the sewers. The "festivities" had made it hot and humid, so Nathan stripped off his dark cloak and stuffed it in his back pack. He made his way deftly through low town, taking alleys to avoid guards even though he was off the clock. It was a good habit to assume you'd been caught already, and he let his instinct guide him through the brick jungle as he fought off memories of Sam's face in the noose.
He broke into a big boulevard and heard a plucking of strings, instruments tuning. He thanked Horace for being quick with the execution and hurried to the stage along the side of the road, nodding to the band warming up before their show tonight. He stopped at the door to the wood shack built next to it and knocked.
"Come in!"
Inside was lit by many small candles, and a head popped around the wooden divider splitting the shack in two. Gee smiled as he recognized Nathan.
"Oh good, it's you! I need someone to lace me up." Nathan allowed himself a breath to calm his nerves, taking in the familiar scent of dusty canvas. Considering how often he was here, it almost felt like home, if he had one.
Nathan set his pack on the floor and came around behind the divider as Gee stepped into his slippers, black flats that let him spin on stage. Nathan jabbed him between the shoulder blades with a finger and Gee straightened as Nathan grabbed the laces of his bodice.
"How was your trip?" he asked as Nathan deftly tightened his top.
"As good as it could've been."
"How much money did you make?"
"95."
"That's not half bad."
"Considering there's still 13,000 to go, I mock you for your optimism." Gee turned as Nathan finished tying the laces, a few inches shorter than him. He leaned against Nathan's chest and put his hands on his shoulders.
"Your pessimism is going to be the death of you." Hopefully sooner than the noose, Nathan thought to himself, but he let himself relax into Gee's weight. It had been a long day of running around, picking pockets and working up the nerve to go down into the sewers, and Gee's embrace was the closest thing to comfort he could get. He was the only sort of family Nathan had left. His shows made enough money to keep them fed so Nathan could work solely towards his one goal: get away from the Brotherband.
It was working great until a week ago.
"I should let you finish getting ready," Nathan said, pulling away from their embrace and finding himself lost in the sewers. Despite his best efforts to hide it, he knew Gee could see the shift in his mind. "I don't think I'm going to do any picking tonight, if that's alright."
"We won't starve. I'll be excited to give you a good show."
"You do that every night," Nathan corrected, and he leaned down and kissed the top of Gee's head. He left the shack and waited for the show to start, dreaming of the day he'd get to take Gee far away from this town and when he'd be able to let himself relax. So long as Horace was making examples of the new Brothers, he would have to be extra vigilant and keep his cards close to his chest, or else risk leaving Gee on his own. His best friend wouldn't blame him, Nathan knew, but he didn't think he would ever forgive himself if he hung without getting Gee out of here.
There was a crowd gathering as the band picked up a tune, Gee still offstage somewhere powdering himself, when Nathan felt a bump against his shoulder. He turned but no one seemed to notice him. His fingers instinctually closed around something in his palm.
When he looked down, there was a small white note in his hand, stamped with an "M" and a date. He tucked it in his shirt quickly, trying to keep his face calm as the crowd started cheering around him. He looked up as Gee entered the stage, arms above his head and bowing before the show had even begun. "Moonlight" was prepared for his set, but as his eyes landed on Nathan, he felt a stab of pain in his heart. So much for a good night, he thought as he watched Nathan's eyes drift away.