Fall (Chapter 3 Part 4)
The child gangs segregated by gender; Chaff usually avoided the girls’ territory. The almost-grown-old Hurricane, however, strode past their curious (and at times sullen) glares without even looking. He walked while Chaff rode, and Chaff, who winced at every sudden movement, was grateful for it.
Chaff hunched closer to the big guy’s neck, a throb of pain flashing through his side. He rubbed the big guy’s fur. “Thinking you can make you’self any smaller?”
The camelopard tossed his head and kept his haughty vantage point, eyes flickering from child to child. He made no move to lower himself down.
“Yeah, OK,” said Chaff. “Keep an eye out, yeah. That’s fine. That’s good.”
Hurricane held up a hand, and Chaff reared the big guy in. “You see what I see?” said Hurricane, his voice low and guttural.
Chaff squinted, but could see nothing except for the everyday streets of Shira Hay. There were nomads trying to haggle off their bushmeat, urchins running underfoot, and a few garbage scraps someone had thrown out that Chaff would have to remember to come back for later. He couldn’t focus on the street anyway; he was too busy looking over his shoulder. The girls didn’t seem overtly hostile, but he couldn’t sit still with them behind him.
Hurricane snapped his fingers and Chaff jumped. “You done ogling?”
Chaff gave a noncommittal grunt. The street slang of Shira Hay was wide and varied, and he wasn’t quite sure what ogling meant. There was, however, something odd in the way Hurricane spoke, something Chaff had never heard in all his years in the city…
“Get your eyes back then, ‘ristocrat. You can court your pretty ladies later,” Hurricane said. He crossed his arms and stared out at the street again. “You see it yet or did that twerp beat the eyes out your head?”
The boy looked up to the big guy for help, but found none. He bit his lip. It was getting harder to ignore the pain in his side.
“The fieldmen,” said Hurricane. He pointed, and Chaff followed his finger towards the huddle of shawled men, with their escort of alsknights in their boiled leather boots and chainmail armor. He saw even a few slaves in attendance, marked by the brands burned on the back of their necks. He shuddered. If anything, that was enough reason for the boys to never try and invade the farmlands; an Alswell slave was a slave for life.
“Sons of bitches lined up over there, gold in them teeth and crumbs on them clothes,” said Hurricane. His prominent jaw was set, and his eyes were shadowed. “Go on and take yourself a good look. Farmers be raising up a fuss about king this, king that. What you think, boy? Think we should listen?”
Chaff stared at Hurricane for some time, unsure what the correct answer was.
“I’m listening,” said Hurricane. “I’m listening and I hear they scared.”
There was silence. Hurricane’s expression was unreadable. All Chaff could see in his face was something to be afraid of.
“Get on, boy,” Hurricane said. “Enough gawking. We got people to meet.”
Chaff nodded, watching Hurricane’s back as he walked away. His hand never left the big guy’s tabula, though. At the slightest hint of a trap, he had enough left in him to give the big guy the boost to run. Until then, though, Chaff followed, if only because it was easier than not. He had nowhere else to go, anyway. He doubted Hook would welcome him back with open arms if he returned.
Hurricane nodded to a wiry, thin girl as he stepped up to the entrance of one of the least run-down buildings. Chaff blanched.
“You know them?” he hissed.
Hurricane raised an eyebrow. “You scared of girls or somewhat?”
Chaff felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “There’s lines, that’s all. We don’t fuck with them, they don’t fuck with us, yeah?”
For some reason, Hurricane laughed. “No fucking with girls. That’s funny, ‘ristocrat. Why di’n’t you tell me you had a sense of humor?”
Chaff didn’t answer. He looked instead at the wiry girl, gauging her. She didn’t seem like too much of a threat, although she had a nasty look on her face as her gaze followed the big guy’s neck. Chaff couldn’t help but notice the way she held the shattered shard of brick in her fist, and tensed instinctively.
“You stay here wi’ your ride,” said Hurricane, cracking open the door. It was pitch black on the inside; the windows had all been boarded up. “The folks need rustling. Veer, make sure he don’t go nowhere.”
The girl guarding the door, presumably Veer, nodded. Her fingers tapped on her brick. It looked sharp. As Hurricane stepped inside, she sidled in front of the door, closer to the big guy. “Wazzat, wazzat, what kind of beastie you got there?” she asked, grinning and revealing gaps in her teeth.
Chaff tugged on the back of the big guy’s neck, and the camelopard took a few steps back just as the girl took a few steps forward. Chaff met her eyes, and after a moment the girl nodded. She didn’t come any closer.
“Ain’t no-nobody got tabula here ‘cepting-cept they own. Can’t seem to…hold onto ‘em.” And again, Chaff felt awfully uncomfortable about the amount of time Veer spent staring at the camelopard’s neck.
“He’s useful. Real useful. The big guy runs a lot faster than you, yeah? We get away always if you try to catch us, yeah?” Chaff said.
Veer drew herself up. “Maybe he do, maybe he don’t. We gon-gonna catch you either way. If Hurricane angry at you, he tear the whole city ‘part-a-part to find you. He knows where everyone is in all of Shira Hay.”
“It’s a hy-po-the-ti-cal,” said Chaff, using one of Hadiss’s favorite words. “Made up. Not going to happen.”
“Yeah, well, longs as it stays that way.” Veer spat on the ground.
The big guy flicked an ear and cast a disdainful look downward, which for him was normal behavior. He seemed at ease here, although Chaff couldn’t relax. His throbbing sides were bothering him, and his stomach was grumbling. “What you want from me, anyway?” he asked, after a stretch of silence.
“Dunno, dunno,” said Veer. “Hurricane wants you to stay, you stay. I trust him.”
That made Chaff pause. “Yeah?”
Veer nodded. “Yeah. Hurricane and Tattle and the rest of the crew, they good to me. I been having three meals a day for weeks. Good stuff too, not garbage shit fished out from the river. You do what Hurricane says, you eat like king and queen.”
Chaff could just imagine the kind of “good stuff” Veer preferred, a step up above the scraps and leftovers that the orphan urchins scavenged from the gutters. In his own head Chaff remembered custard tarts and honeyed oatmeal with almonds. Even fresh meat and clean water, out on the plains, had been preferable to Veer’s good stuff.
Veer spoke up. “Hey, hey, you got a name?”
Did he? Hadiss never really called him anything but young master, and he had been going by Stink or boy or thief or just now ‘ristocrat for so long that he had forgotten the sound of his own name. Was it even his, if it had been given by someone who had betrayed him, someone who he had betrayed?
“Chaff,” he said, finally. “But only my friends call me that.”
“Well, I guess you my friend, then, Chaff,” said Veer, grinning again. Her tongue poked through the gap in her teeth. “Lighten the lighten up, you got your grouchy face on.”
Chaff shifted, turning away from Veer. He didn’t get off the big guy’s back, but he made sure the urchin girl couldn’t see him as he drew out his other tabula. There was no getting around the inquisitive stares of the others in the child’s slums, but they were of less concern to him.
“Help me out a little now, yeah?” Chaff wiped the girl’s tabula, and felt the tingle of energy through his fingers. “Show me.”
It wasn’t so bad nowadays; Chaff felt only a mild twinge in his head as the murky shadows swirled on the amber surface. For three years, it had stayed dark and opaque, but Chaff hadn’t given up. He was still looking for her. He would give it back.
He could see only silhouettes in the tabula, obscured by darkness. It was impossible to get any real sense of form or shape from the image. But sometimes…
Sometimes, though, as the tabula hummed, he would hold it up to his ear and he would hear something underneath it all. People speaking, a dog barking, footsteps, chanting. And, on very special days, high laughter.
Chaff didn’t mind terribly that he could no longer see her smile, if that meant he could hear her laugh.
“What the what you got there?”
Chaff jumped and stuffed the tabula in his pocket immediately. Veer was standing on tiptoe, trying to peer at Chaff’s tabula, standing much too close to the big guy for Chaff’s comfort. Chaff tugged on the big guy’s mane for him to step aside, and glared at Veer. “You nose around in my business, nuh-uh, no good.”
Veer ignored him. “You got another tabula?” she asked, and she looked up at the sky. “Where your other beastie at? I wanna see, I wanna see!”
“I don’t have no other beastie,” snapped Chaff. He kept glancing backward, to make sure the big guy wasn’t walking back into a trap.
“Well, then, what you got there? You don’t have no slave, that’s for sure.”
Nothing seemed capable of perturbing Veer. Chaff curled over his tabula, trying to shield them from the girl’s view. He couldn’t let her be taken again. He had to find her.
And suddenly, Chaff had an idea.
Chaff cast a wary glance Veer’s way. “You say Hurricane can find anybody in Shira Hay, yeah? Anybody at all?”
“Yeah,” said Veer, reaching for her brick shard again. “Why? You think-thinking of running?”
“No,” said Chaff. He straightened up, his mind buzzing. Planning around these people could be so difficult. If he showed them her tabula before he put them in his debt, he would lose her for sure; if he did it after, he had no idea what he was walking into. Chaff stared at Veer for a few long seconds, chewing his lip.
He slipped the tabula back into his cloth belt and repeated, “No. I’m not going nowhere.”
Veer grinned. “They gonna be good to you, you wait and see. Hurricane and the crew, they gonna be real sweet on you. Lotta food, all the time.”
The big guy glanced Chaff’s way and snorted at that. The city didn’t have nearly enough for a growing camelopard to eat, and the promise of food was never one an urchin took lightly. Chaff sighed. If it was for his friend’s sake as well, he supposed he would do it.
The only trouble now was figuring out what exactly it was.
“He’s coming out of there soon, yeah?” asked Chaff, staring at the door. He had passed beyond worry at this point to simple curiosity. Hurricane was taking an awfully long time.
Veer strode in front of the door quickly, standing in Chaff’s way again. She tried to look nonchalant about it, although her arms were crossed and her cheeks were red. “Don’t you worry ‘bout-a-bout what goes on in there. Hurricane’s business is he own business, see?”
There was an uneasy silence.
“They’s watching you, Chaff friend,” said Veer, after a moment. Her head was turned to the side, and her eyes seemed distant.
Chaff looked around him, back at the urchins coming and going, and then to the door. “Who? Them? Hurricane?”
Veer pointed. “The fieldmen. They’s watching.”
Chaff turned. Sure enough, some of the alsknights were leaning on their lances, a bright glint in their eyes, whispering to each other as they watched Chaff on the big guy’s back. “Yeah,” Chaff agreed. “I seen hungry. That’s hungry.”
“Ain’t-they-ain’t hungry,” said Veer, leaning against the wall next to the door with one foot propped up against the building. “At least not for meat. Them fieldmen, they like their fancy things. I’m betting they ain’t never seen a beastie like yours before. Soon as they can, they gonna try and grab him to bring back as a gift to their farmer king.”
“I lets them try,” said Chaff, indignantly. His hand strayed to his belt, and the big guy pranced as a brief jolt of energy surged through both of them. “They touches the big guy, I kills all of them.”
Veer scoffed. “You gonna fight off all four of them alsknights on your own? Got a lance youself, do you?” She grinned. For some reason, she seemed to think it was funny.
“Then I steal him back.”
Veer rolled her eyes. “How? If you can’t beat the alsknights what-what come af’er you, how you gonna beat the alsknights just sitting ‘round-a-round and waiting?”
“They slow, yeah? I Kennya Noni,” said Chaff, tightening the bandages on his wrists and ankles. “I runs around them.”
“They alsknights, stupid. All they do is chase after slaves that run, and then they kill ‘em. Double triple double kill them.” Veer stood straight. “But say if you say you get past them. How you gonna get a great big animal out without no one noticing? How you gonna get his tabula back? How you gonna live in this city without they hunting you down and catching you? You can’t steal from the fieldmen. Not you, not nobody ever gonna do it.”
Chaff glared at the fieldmen soldiers until they looked away. “Nobody touches the big guy,” he repeated. “Nobody takes him either.”
Veer looked up, eyebrow raised, but did not inquire further. It was better that she didn’t, Chaff decided. He didn’t want to give her ideas.
At that moment, the door cracked open. Chaff tensed, ready to run, but the girl held her hands up behind her head as she walked out. Behind her, Hurricane stood with his arms folded across his chest.
The new girl gave Chaff and the big guy a quick scan. She smiled, still holding her hands behind her head. “He’s jumpy,” she said. “And he’s dumb enough to go along with it. Hurricane, I say we got a runaway guy.”
Run away was certainly what Chaff felt like doing, as Hurricane stepped out from behind the door too.
“You hear that, boy? You in, long as you willing to come in.”
Chaff stared from Veer, who shrugged apologetically, to the new girl to Hurricane and back to Veer. He opened his mouth automatically, but the new girl cut him off. “He’s going to say yes no matter what. You scare him.”
“Well, I’m doing my job then, ain’t I?” snarled Hurricane.
The new girl smirked. She looked nearly as old as him, and looked at Chaff with an almost vulpine grin. “I never said that was a bad thing. He’s going to say yes, and we’re going to take him. Isn’t that right?”
Chaff stared at her, trying to figure out what was hiding behind that wide smile. And, very slowly, he nodded.
“Come on in, then,” said the girl, kicking the door open wide. “There’s company watching I’d rather avoid.”
There was no way the big guy would fit in that small one-room hut. Chaff didn’t get off.
Veer stepped up. “Hey, hey, Chaff friend. It’s OK? Nobody taking your tabula off you. No fieldman is going to get this far into the ghetto. He’s safe.”
“You feel safe, big guy?” whispered Chaff. He coughed, his sides flaring with renewed pain, and the big guy nuzzled his shoulder. With black eyes opened wide, the camelopard nodded.
“There’s blood on his shirt,” said the new girl. “Hurricane, tell me why there is blood on his shirt.”
“He done did got a beating when I found him,” said Hurricane. “He’ll-.”
“We don’t have a crew if the crew is bleeding out, you nincompoop. Come here, Chaff, let’s get you inside.” The girl tugged on Chaff’s hand, although Chaff tugged back.
“I can get off on my own,” growled Chaff, swinging his legs over the big guy’s side and dropping to the ground. Sore from riding, his knees buckled as he landed. “And how you know my name?”
The girl shrugged. “I was listening.” She opened the door. “If you hate us so much, you could always walk away. We can help, though. Truly, we can. So, you in or you out?”
Chaff glared at the girl as he staggered inside. The hut was dimly lit, with straw mats scattered across the dirt floor and a fire pit ashen black and smelling of soot in the center. A few personal belongings were scattered along the walls, in plain sight where anyone could take them.
“Welcome to headquarters,” said the girl, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, as she closed the door behind her. Neither Hurricane nor Veer had followed her inside. “I’ll be your guide on this tour. You can call me Tattle.”
“Tattle,” repeated Chaff. He stared at Tattle as she patted down a mattress in the far corner. Odd that an urchin would care so much about cleanliness.
“Sit down here and rest a bit,” said Tattle, sitting cross-legged next to the mat. “It won’t do you much good if anything’s broken but it’s better than walking and riding around, right? I swear, Lonwal is blind sometimes.”
“Lonwal?” echoed Chaff. He did not make to sit down. He did not even move from the doorway.
“Oh, he hasn’t told you his real name yet? Well, I suppose some of us are proud of our nicknames,” said Tattle. She looked up and smiled, in a way that seemed so warm and genuine that Chaff’s insides started to hurt. “You really can rest here, you know. I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me down to Da’atoa, I promise.”
Hesitantly—very hesitantly—Chaff made his way over and sat.
“We’ve put together a decent-sized crew,” said Tattle, as Chaff sat. “You know Lookout? Hangs out a lot on the nomad outskirts? No, I suppose you don’t. She doesn’t exactly get along with people- but, she’s a damn good point woman. Hurricane and my buddy Bull are our muscle. Veer’s our door maker, and I’m the show master. All we needed was someone with a good tabula, a runaway guy.”
“None of you has tabula?” asked Chaff, suspiciously, still holding tight onto his belt. He had sat, yes, but was neither reclining nor relaxing.
Tattle shrugged. “I had a beast once. Ate her a few years back.” She grinned, and Chaff immediately made to stand.
“Stop, stop, stop, I’m just joking you,” said Tattle, grabbing Chaff’s wrist. The bandages loosened under her grip, and Chaff pulled free easily. He began to walk away, as Tattle shouted after him, “He’s more useful to us alive!”
Chaff faltered. He felt the tabula under his belt again, not just the big guy’s but hers as well. This was for both of them.
“All you need to do, Chaff, is run a race. That’s it. When the time comes, you just need to ride one race for us with a bit of cargo and a few passengers against a couple of foreign ratvipers.”
“Why?” shouted Chaff, at last. He turned on Tattle, ignoring the pain in his sides. “Why this crew, why you need me?”
“You’ve seen the caravan. I told Hurricane to show it off and by the holy hollows he loves doing that. It’s more than just food in there.” Tattle rose, her eyes gleaming. Chaff recognized in her gaze the same hunger he had seen in the alsknights’ eyes. “There’s wealth. Enough for all six of us start new lives. Good lives.”
Chaff shook his head. “But the people of Alswell…”
“The fieldmen? The ones with the professional slave-catching knights and the bondage system that strikes terror into the hearts of even the bravest marble soldiers of the Stronghold? Yeah.” Tattle nodded. “No big deal. We’re going to rob them.”
Posted on October 24, 2013, in 3.04, Chapter 3 (Rise & Fall) and tagged adventure, Big Guy, Chaff, creative writing, fantasy, Fisk, Hurricane, novel, original characters, story, Tattle, Veer, web fiction, web serial, webfiction, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.