Nestor stared down at his scuffed mask. It had been stepped on--caving in part of the fox’s muzzle. Tentatively, he tried it on, it rubbed against his cheek uncomfortably and he took it back off. He’d have it repaired in the city.
“That was quite the fight,” Geralt laughed, stepping through the door. “Who would’ve thought such a small town would have that much spunk” He glanced at the crumpled mask in Nestor’s hands and frowned. ”How’d that happen?”
Nestor grimaced. “It got knocked off while we were fighting the blacksmith.”
“The one with that girl?” Geralt asked--almost…approvingly? “Her weapon--I wish I could’ve swiped it.”
Nestor nodded, deciding to ignore his friend’s kleptomaniac tendencies. “I’m going to have to get it repaired wherever we winter.”
“Why not buy a new one? Skystead has excellent artists.”
“I'm attached to this one. Regardless of wherever we end up, I’d rather have it repaired.”
“Suit yourself,” Geralt glanced behind him, a smirk playing around his lips. “Come check out what we found.” He gestured for Nestor to follow him and Nestor reluctantly complied.
“I don’t care what the captain got, this is the best thing we’ve ever gotten from a raid,” Geralt said excitedly. A strange screeching sound was filling the halls as he led Nestor to the very back of the ship. Was something wrong with it? Nestor’s stomach turned at the thought of crashing out of the sky.
“We still need to tame her,” Geralt’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Wait. Her?” Nestor asked, mounting horror filling him. “Geralt, what did you do?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Geralt laughed. He threw open the door to reveal the source of the sounds and Nestor found himself looking into the eyes of a monster. Amber eyes glinted over a deadly looking mahogany beak. The creature was covered in tawny feathers and although out of view, he knew it had sharp talons to match.
It was the second time he had seen that face and it hadn’t gotten any friendlier.
“Geralt…how…why?” Nestor found himself stuttering and shrinking back from the griffin.
“She’s pregnant!” Geralt told him happily. “Just think of what we’ll be able to sell the kits for.”
“They give live birth?” Nestor couldn’t break his eyes away from the creature. Sure enough, its belly was huge. What were they supposed to do with more of the monsters?
“From what I understand, yeah. A lot of people want exotic pets, so we’ll get to train them, and then pass them off for a profit.”
The griffin picked that moment to switch to a low, threatening growl, staring directly at Nestor.
“Just…don’t expect me to help,” Nestor said slowly. The ship shuddered and began to groan as it was stopped and Nestor felt relief flood him. Just the excuse he needed to leave the monster--they were docking.
Hours later Nestor found himself wandering across one of Skystead’s many walkways. The crew had split up as they alway did whenever they hit the cities--it was easier for people to remember a group than it was for a few stray individuals. Besides, it also gave the crew the opportunity to buy whatever they wanted with their share of the raid loot.
It still left Nestor feeling exposed, as if one of the city denizens would be able to recognize him and drag him away. He snorted to himself and kicked at a stray pinecone that had fallen from one of the towering trees that Skystead had growing haphazardly along its buildings. He had grown up in a city much like this one, he should be better suited to this than most of the crew.
No, a part of him whispered. Not that. He shut that bit of himself down as he always did. He had a fair amount of change in his pocket and the whole city was brimming with shops begging for him to spend it. Had Geralt mentioned a sweets shop? Or maybe he could check out one of the automaton shops. He might just have enough for a small one. He started towards one of the pulleys that would let him back down at the main street ways. Maybe a fox to match his mask. Or an owl.
A young girl sat outside one of the shop fronts, gently stroking a dark gray cat while showing it a miniature wind up cat made of fine copper and brass. Nestor smiled in spite of himself when the cat reached out with a deft paw to tap its metallic cousin, nearly pushing it off the girl's lap before she caught it and began to scold her fluffy friend.
Sunlight shone down from the domed glass ceiling in the shop. It glinted off the walls lined with dozens of metallic animals. Some with wind up keys, others with gemstone eyes and crystal affixments that the stray light was bent into tiny rainbows through.
In the center sat a woman, bent over the desk with her goggles flipped down. Nestor took a step closer, they were different from the ones he was used to seeing various city workers wear, or even the pair that Geralt often wore when he was tuning the skyship. Instead of a single lens, this pair had several additional lenses that the woman could flip over her current one.
“Can I interest you in anything?” She spoke suddenly, almost sharply, and he flinched.
“I…I was just interested in the automatons,” he replied. His ears began to burn and he forced his shoulders back, trying to straighten and look more like the rich people he had seen wandering the skyways.
“Of course you were,” the woman replied. She flipped her goggles back. She was younger than Nestor had guessed. Late teens maybe. Closer to his own age. “Well, what can I help you with?” She gently placed the miniature leopard she had been working on to the side. Emerald eyes--not real as far as he could tell, but that hardly mattered for a piece this intricate.
“Do you own this shop?” Nestor ventured.
The girl narrowed her eyes and the fist that was visible on the desk went white knuckled. “Why?” she asked, her voice light, but oddly flat.
What had he--why was she angry? “You’re building an automaton, so I just figured…” he let the thought trail off as she relaxed.
“It was my parents' shop,” she said.
“Was.” It wasn’t a question, he hadn’t even meant to say it, but she responded anyway.
“They died. So now it’s me and my uncle running the place.” She gave a forced smile that couldn’t disguise the sadness in her eyes.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“I’m sorry,” Nestor said softly.
“Life happens. No use getting stuck on it,” she said with forced brightness. “But you were interested in buying an automaton, right? What will it be?” She stepped out from behind her desk and led Nestor to the wind up automatons, pointing out some of her proclaimed favorites.
A fox the size of his palm sat at the edge of one of the displays and Nestor picked it up, almost expecting it to be warm to the touch. It, being metal, was not.
“How about this one?” he ventured.
The girl frowned briefly before smiling. “Sure, if you like it. Although, it’s nowhere near my best piece.”
“I like it,” Nestor decided. The little fox had onyx eyes and its copper body was textured somehow, looking fluffy. It’d make a good companion for wherever they ended up for the winter.
“Questionable taste.” He glanced at the shop keeper and she blushed slightly, pushing a strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear. “Well…it is,” she said defensively. “He has a dent.”
Sure enough, the little fox’s tail was slightly dented at the base. He hadn’t noticed until she said it, but now it was clear. “I like it,” Nestor repeated. “Gives it character.”
“Very well, let's get it bagged up for you then.”
She took the fox from him, wrapping it in brown parchment paper and placing it into a bag before handing it back to him. “That’ll be 5 shillings please.”
He handed her the money and she smiled brightly at him. “Thank you sir. Have a nice day.”
Sir? Nestor had to keep himself from frowning as he nearly bumped into an older man with thinning blonde hair. If only she knew. She definitely wouldn’t waste any honorifics on him.
A damp wind hit him as he left the shop. The thinning rays of the setting sun reflected weakly off the buildings and Nestor shivered. He had been in the shop for a while--would it be time to start heading back for the ship? Or would he be the only one to return early? Most of the crew would still be out, wanting to spend as much time in the city as they could, but return too late and he’d wind up with most of the morning chores.
Before Nestor could debate any longer, something hit him in the head. Glaring, he looked up to see a cloaked figure disappear over the edge of the rooftop. A cloak with a very familiar bright red underside. He took a step further into the street, watching as the figure leapt onto another roof and started up a belvedere.
“Amos?” Nestor questioned aloud.
What was the captain doing? And why…Nestor glanced back at the setting sun. Dusk. Heist time. Surely not. “This is a terrible idea,” he murmured to himself. And with that he tucked his purchase into his sack, grabbed the edge of a decorative metal trellis and hoisted himself up to the roof level.
“Crazy old man,” Nestor muttered, eyeing the gap he had seen the captain jump. There was an old wooden board to propel off of, but that jump had seemed much more like a flying leap. A leap easily 20 feet above the ground.
Nestor jumped it, using the board to give him a bit more of a boost. Was he really doing this? He’d never hear the end of it if caught.
Just a peek, he told himself. He climbed up to the window of the belvedere. It was open, forced off its hinges. Amos had definitely gone through it.
Nestor kicked his boots off, setting them carefully out of sight on the roof, then he slid through, feet touching onto a thick wooden beam.
“You weren’t followed?” a voice asked. Nestor froze before realizing that the voice was coming from below him. Two cloaked figures stood below the beams, one familiar, and one that Nestor was sure he had never seen before.
“I’m sure,” the familiar figure replied. Some part of Nestor’s heart sank. It was the captain. What was he doing?
“And none of your gang knows…?” the second cloaked figure asked. He had his hood up and although he was taller than the captain, he was moving too much for it to lend him any authority.
“My crew is enjoying their night out,” Amos said evenly. “All they know is that we have a benefactor in Skystead. Just as you wished.” The captain drew something wrapped up in a bit of oil cloth.
“What of the village? Would they--”
Amos actually laughed before regaining control of himself. “I doubt it. It’s a shiny number and the old bat didn’t seem to realize what she had. So long as you don’t try to take it immediately to market, it should be untraceable back to you.”
The buyer slowly reached out for the object and Amos handed it to him. “Sell it?” the buyer asked softly. “No, I would never sell it.” He peeked under the cloth and went still. “It’s really here. You’ve done perfectly.”
“We take pride in what we do,” Amos said simply. “But what we do comes with a price.”
“Yes, of course,” the buyer said distractedly. “I made sure to get the first half of the payment when you arrived in the city. You did come by ship, correct?”
“Of course.”
“And none of your crew knows?”
“I am a man of my word.”
“Yes…that’s why I chose you,” the buyer stilled. “I wish I had a better reason for this…you really have done perfectly.” Something flashed out from his sleeve and shattered onto the ground and brownish smoke rose up.
“You--” Amos started and then he started to cough. Horrible, wheezing coughs that left him on his knees, staring up at the buyer.
The buyer lowered his hood, revealing the fact that he was wearing a mask, an odd thing not shaped like any animal, but something with weird chambers over the mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please understand that this isn’t because of anything you did. I just can’t take the risk of anyone finding out.”
Amos fell to the ground, his breathing turning into wheezing gasps.
Something stung in Nestor’s eyes and a tiny whimper escaped him.
At the sound, both Amos and the buyer looked up. The captain’s bloodshot eyes widened in horror, and the buyer went rigid.
“RUN!” Amos bellowed, his voice strained into a fit of coughing.
Nestor bolted, flinging himself out the window as the buyer swore loudly from behind him.
He leapt onto the neighboring rooftop, not giving a second thought to the distance. Pounding footsteps and a sharp whistle began to sound from the roads below and Nestor gave in to his adrenaline, running like a wild animal.
“Hey!” someone shouted from below. “Stop! Thief!”
He screwed his eyes shut and pulled himself up to the skyway, pushing past a young couple that were busy watching the sunset.
His stomach lurched and he swallowed back the sharp bile that rose in his throat. No time. Only running. Footsteps still pounded from behind him, but he was weaving through the evening crowds, years of pickpocket training kicking in as he forced himself into the center and then slowly to the edges, trying to gauge how many were following him.
There were three. Two uniformed constables and a third man--not the one with the mask, but a different one that were scanning the crowd. The moment they turned their backs, he darted into an alleyway and headfirst into someone that he knocked to the ground.
“He--” he clamped his hand over the mouth of the person.
Emerald eyes glared up at him and he realized he knew the face. It was the girl from earlier--the shopkeeper.
Tears flooded his eyes as she bit down on his hand and it took everything he had to not cry out. “They’ll kill you!” he hissed. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t have time to see if she understood. He nodded to a stack of crates, forcing them behind while keeping his hand clamped firmly over the girl’s mouth. If he got her killed too…no. He couldn’t think about that. His head was pounding. Why did it hurt so badly?
One of the constables wandered into their alleyway and Nestor tightened his grip on the girl. Thankfully, she didn’t try to scream or break away. She stayed frozen as the constable left and they sat like that until the sounds of the crowded street faded and the thin light of oil lamps danced across the cobblestones.
Finally, Nestor let go.
The girl glared at him and cursed under her breath. “What. Pray tell. Did you just drag me in to?”
Nestor opened his mouth to respond and instead retched. This was all too much. Amos…had he abandoned him?
“I…I’m sorry,” Nestor choked out. A whimper touched his voice and he blinked back sudden tears.
The girl looked more confused than ever. “Who’s after you? What happened?”
But something in Nestor had snapped. He retched again and watched as his world blurred into black nothingness.