“Sir, when was the last time you saw Abigail,” Arvi words came out in a slow measured cadence. What Arvi was able to hide with his tone, he could not with the clenched fist writhing with veins.

“Abigail was helping like usual at the shop. We had some fabrics that needed to be dropped off to customers. She was going to pick up some groceries for today. So she just decided she would make the deliveries for us. We were busy at the shop and she was insistent.”

Ok, ok. Tell me more. I need more information to find her.

“And she never came back?” Arvi asked.

“No. It started to get late. Abby can be strong willed but she’s punctual and respects the house rules. We started to get worried, but figure perhaps she ended up speaking to a friend at these damn festivals we’ve been having for the merchant princess who’s going to marry that damn noble.

This whole marriage fiasco is really, really pissing me off.

“Very well. Have you gone to the places where the fabric was dropped off at?”

“Yes. All old friends and trustworthy folks. They all had seen her and she had picked up the groceries first.”

Partially helpful. Trustworthy contacts - granted all contacts are suspect until proven otherwise, and that proving is an ongoing basis. Everyone has their manipulations. Now, we at least know she had groceries which may or may not be findable.

“Was Abigail walking with anyone? What time of night? What usual places might she visit or people she would hang with? I need answers. And I’m sorry sir, but I need them now. You’ve gone far as it is and I’ll pick up the rest.”

“We all will,” barked Raizon from the back.

“The last one saw her a while after sundown. They weren’t sure how long, except that people had already meandered into the streets. She really only hangs with you that I know of… and”

“And!”

Arvi steps his fingers. “And the guards. What did the guards say?

The man blast a hand onto the counter, frustration taking the place of the fatigue on his face. “Those damn white turds were working last night. I didn’t find a damn one out. Not a single fucking one!” He roars with rage, septum flying through the air. “Why the fuck do we even pay their salary. Those fucking bird shits don’t even work.”

Incompetence and hubris tend to work together.

Glady’s interrupts “The orphanage. Has anyone checked the orphanage?”

Mr. Stichmerson shook his head.

Arvi turns on his heel, not facing the group anymore, but the direction of the canal and the various markets and stalls. “I’m going to do a little check and then head to the orphanage.”

And with that Arvi burst into a run. His motions smooth, hands cutting through the window, body slightly leaned forward, and his eyes focused like a hawk on prey.

I must save Abby. She’s been my only friend. The only one who’s truly accepted me. Losing her would be like losing what little connection I still have to this place.

Arvi moves through the confusing mess of streets in a blur while hitting side streets and jumping over walls to access different spaces that few knew could be done. He was a master of running these streets. Despite the people going about their regular day he never once bumped into them.

I must find Abby.

Arvi slows his paced momentarily. He knocks loudly on certain doors. He enters quick, asks questions and moves on. He repeats this process again and again, somehow knowing which venues to target for what information. The more he progress closer to the canal the more he learns.

It turns out that last night was odd. People heard people on their roofs. Some heard the sound of metal. Others thought they heard muffled sounds but thought it was just people having midnight tryst. People on roof tops, metal, and murmuring. But all going to the direction of the low-town bridge. What does this mean.

Rounding the corner to the main canal Arvi comes to a brisk walk. Looking for signs. Anything that can clue him in.

Stop.

Stop and listen.

Stop and observe.

Only fools rush in.

You must observe to find the way.

Arvi stopped. He breathed in deep allowing all the smells and the associated taste to run over him. A waft of something familiar comes on the breeze. Slight but still there, with a bit of spice, a bit of kick.

That … that is the smell of dragon juice. A hard drink of 140 proof with various juices, many exotic to this region mixed in with a unique blend of spices. Someone here was drunk not long ago. But too many smells to follow it directly. Listen Arvi, listen.

The sound of hundreds of people speaking attacks his ears. People battering, laughing, children running amok and animals with their various noises, assault his senses.

Find the rhythm in the chaos. Find the rhythm like a dance that finds the beat, like the bass that finds and keeps the beat. Something here will click. Will be not in tune with the rest. A beat to its own drum.

Somehow, with great focus and patience Arvi begins to segment the sounds to different parts of the area. He then mentally places the different conversations in various sections. He furthers hones in on the speech patterns of each conversation, grid point by mental grid point.

To his ears he could hear someone trying to order a sandwich. His words …. Sluggish.

“That’s right. It was a -herck of a partaye,” the voice says with a slight drawl. I’m still trying to recouperate.”

“Oh, well this ham sandwich will do you good for this.”

Arvi slowly makes his way to the voice, stopping every so often in order to re-listen and not lose the grid point.

“Not only do I need a sandwich, I need somendaina cold for my head. That damn leather back kick me in my temple”

Arvi comes closer, now only a few feet away, eyes down cast and away but listening.

“Why’d a leather back kick you in that head. You don’t seem to be no special trouble to me”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Arvi could now see the man who was talking. He was wearing warn grey garb, and the upper part of his collar was covered in blood; most likely a result from the open cut on his face.

The man gestured as he talked, causing his sleeves to pull back, showing wrist that have the tell-tale signs of having been bound.

“Yeah well. We fell asleep in one of the ways, you know. We had too much of data dragonz juice last night. We made it across the bridge ok. Kinda passed out ontop of it for a moment. But we was smart. “We” he belches, clearly still recovering from the previous nights foray “just used the stalls to sleep. You know, so no one could see us. It was cozy till a number of us guys had to pee off the side of the bridge.” He drops his voice “between you and me. One of dem girls couldn’t make it and pissed next to one of dem crates. Most hilarious shit I’d seen. Because she then had to shit. Her face was brighter red than a cherry fuckin tomato”. The man lets out a great laugh.

The stall keeper lets out a courteous but forced laugh; his focus clearly on the sale.

“I mean, my man,” pointing at the guy. “They told us all this time that women don’t poop. Crock of shite if you ask me. That was one of the biggest poos I’ve seen in my life. In. My. Life. Crazy”

“Yes, yes” responders the stall owner. “So a ham sandwich”

“Yeah. Well anyways we ended up down one of dem ways and feel asleep. And it was all downhill then.”

Arvi walks behind the man at a 45 degree angle to his shoulder. Arvi looks up in the air mumbling something to himself over and over again. Then lets his usual stiff demeanor drop into a more languid posture. “Yea, dat sure be some of the funniest shit I’d see. And I’ve seen some funny shit. See. See what I did there.

The man in grey was a bit taken aback, but as the words hit him, he laughed. “I see what you did. But you shoulda seen what SHE did there.”

“Touche, touche,” and heavily pats him on the shoulder. That was sure of a hella of a party. I had some much dragin-piss I can hardly remebba much from last night.”

“Oh, uos was out her too?”

No dip shit. I’d not be out here with you fools. I actually value my life.

“Ab-so-fukin-lootley. But my memory a little bit foggy,” Arvin said.

“Yeah that juice will do that to you”

Arvin continued to push through the charade, not letting his false smile fade. “Yeah da juice is no joke. Some of my pals said they heard some weird shit too. Well, not y’all shittin, but shit, ya know what I mean. I can’t hardly remember. Do you remember da fucked happened here last night?”

“Shit,” the man seems to grow ever more comfortable with the conversation as he traces his memory. “Well ya know…”

“Yeah…?”

“Well. Naw, it’s nothin’”

“Ah goin my friend. We’re all just shittin’ around here anyways.”

“Are you two going to buy something?” The stall manger asked, trying remain polite.

“I’ll have whatava he has. And if he can remember da shit from last night since, I can’t, I’ll buy his too.”

“Well shit. Aight. Well I was half outta my mind. But I remembered some boats.?

“Like our usual ferries.”

“No these was some weird boats. I ain’t never see em before. I was in and out so I didn’t get to see much. Figured it’d was a special ride with the festivals. But like I said, I aint seen nothin like it since.

“Were there people on it?”

“Oh course ‘were were people on it. I mean you wouldn’t thought it since they were all quiet and had their head downs. The guys standing in the boat had some weird hoods or masks over dem face. I don’t remember much more than that girl shittin

“Are you shittin me?

“No, I shit you not”

“You member what way those shit heads was goin”

The man points a finger north bound.

“Those fuckers were going up the canal. To Mid-town. I mean what idiot goes to mid-town drunk. Those white turds would throw one of us in jail just for breathing wrong in their precious shit hole, let alone us being dronke with several boats of weirds. I’ve no fucking clue what they was thinking.

Arvi closed his eyes and breathes out slowly. His posture seems to stiffen and straighten back out.

“You aight”?

Arvi’s tone begins to sound normal. “I’m fine sir. As promised.” He flips the food vendor several coins. “Keep the change and feed this man his and my sandwich.”

“You shittin me? You really going to pay”

“As you said, I shit you not.”

The man gives a big smile, revealing a few lost teeth.

And one more final thing.

One good turn deserves another mother always taught..

Arvi reaches into the satchel he had been carrying. He had flipped it into a back pack, but now brings it close around. He rummages in it and pulls out a small vile, then passes it to the robed man.

“What’s this?”

“Pop the cap and smell.”

The man does as he’s advised.

“Is this dragon juice”

“The one and only.”

“It’s really mine?”

“Yeah. “

“Sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. You got the juice now.”

The man takes the bottle to his lips and takes a long sip back. By the time he stops to gives his appreciations, Arvi was already gone. Simply a shadow blending into shadows.

********

This is both good and bad. There were no recent clues for Abby specifically. But something is going on. And if my hunch is right, it is very, very, very bad. And we’re all going to have sleepless nights. Rooftop movement. Metals clanging. Strange boats moving quietly to the most outwardly prudish part of town. I’m hoping I’m wrong. I’m hoping Abby is there. Please be there Abby.

Arvi finds himself arriving at a larger stout building than those around it. It seems to be the size of two to three regular size buildings and has only one type of of stone. On the side reads orphanage.

“Well it’s been some time hasn’t it,” Arvi mutters. He walks up to the large wooden double doors and knocks heavily. He waits a few moments. He then knocks again. He waits again, becoming impatient. An old man who hasn’t seen constant son in moths, wearing a robe stairs partly out the door. While it would be difficult to see given the shadows and the folds of the priests sleeves, it was clear to Arvi that the priest had a knife pointed at him. “What can I do to help you young man”. The priest begins to look past Arvi, eyes darting side to side?

Expecting company is he? This is proably more of self defense than an intent to harm me. His hold on the dagger is weak and easily broken if I chose to. I’ll be kind.

“Sir I’m here to see if my friend dropped by? We haven’t seen her in days and I’m worried about her”.

The monk returns his eyes to Arvi. His expression goes from caution to sadness. He slides his dagger back into the folds of his robes, thinking it was unseen.

“I’m sorry my lad. There are a lot of people who have come here. And a lot of people who have, well, not come back lately.

“What do you mean sir? And my friend’s name is Abigail, daughter of the tailor, who takes care of yours, mine, and everyone else clothes in low-town. “

“Did you say Abby? Oh my dear? She didn’t make it home last night?”

“What did you say.”

“She came to drop off some extra food. And it was so late. So so late. I told her to either stay the night or run home, with emphasis on run. But that she’d aught to stay.”

“Why’s that?”

“People have been going missing from over the last couple of days.”

“Missing?”

“Yes a few people from the orphanage and a few from this area period. This has never happened before. That’s why I was afraid for Abigail. I tried to get her to stay the night but she said her parents would kill her, and then kill me if she didn’t come home that night. Lo and behold it looks like I’ll still end up on the bad end of that equation”.

“Why didn’t you go with her or send a guard? “ anger seeping into Arvi’s voice.

Because of the recent disappearings I couldn’t just leave. I’m the only priest, and we have no clerics either. We just have our one monk, Urberer, and he has been out the last few days.

“Since the disappearances”

“Yes. No. Well yes. He’s not into harming anyone, don’t get it wrong. He’s a partier. So with the festivals the last several days I’m sure he was out re-enjoying his youth.”

Arvi’s lips grow tight. He stares at the man still awaiting an answer to the second question.

“I couldn’t send a guard. There haven’t been any guards here lately. At least not at night. We usually have the leather backs out here and everything is smooth. But we’ve had the Mid-Town guards here lately during the day. I figured they’d be here at night too. But I haven’t seen them and so I had no one to send with her. Which is why I begged and begged her to stay but she wouldn’t and I couldn’t leave the rest of the kids here alone. We’re a poor orphanage, only supported by donations and a lot of kindness from the Hali family … we can’t afford to hire personal protection.”

“Has anyone come back?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say no. And many of them were our older age children, close to aging out of here. I just hoped… against hope that they were just out enjoying the parties. It’s so rare we get those.

Arvi turns on his back in one swifter pivot. “If Abby comes here. Tell her to stay and that a friend will come to find her.

“I can do that. Do… I know you?”

“You did know me. I volunteered with Abby years ago. But this is her thing now.

“Ah, ok. And you are?”

“Just a friend. Abby will know who. Now, do you know where this Urberer is?”

The old man shrugs. “Who knows. He truly is a free spirit. If anything I’d say he was either at the Floggin’ Inn near the Canal on the west side of the bridge, or he has gone to temple in mid-town. He frequents there often too. Sometimes for a few days.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I’m sure he has nothing to do with this.”

“Very well. Thank you”

Arvi walks off.

Abby’s been fucking kidnapped. Mother. Fucker.

He makes his way around some passages. His ears perk up to the sound of a small group conversing.

“Cap, don’t you think you were a little harsh on Urberer?,” a female voice.

Time to gather more info. The best place to hide is in plain sight. Arvi creeps off to the group.