The Fly Guild (17 page)

“Come with me. No one will see you.
You’ll be in the safety of our church before they can stop you. We’ll protect
you.”

Quinton scoffed. “Protect me from the
guild? You have no idea.”

“Children disappear all the time. They
might think you are already dead. If you come with me, you’ll have a better
life. They’ll never know.”

The boy was tempted. Could anything be
worse than where he was now? He looked down at his hands. They were caked in
blood. The blood of the man he murdered this morning. He tilted his head back
and looked up to the sky, needing an answer.

And he got it. There was a balcony
several stories above him and slightly to the left. As he looked up, a man
obscured by shadows stepped back out of view. A watcher. The decision was easy.
He pulled himself to his feet, his knee still throbbing in pain. He pushed past
the woman and started down the street, back toward the safety of the guild. The
woman watched with sadness as he disappeared down the street. She turned and
looked up to see what the boy had seen just before he left. But there was just
an empty balcony and the rustle of the wind.

***

The chatter back at the guild was fast
and full of rumors. Several maggots were missing, a few lucky ones dodged
attempts to nab them and others had seen nonguild-affiliated urchins dragged
away by various men. None of this really bothered Quinton. He hadn’t even
bothered to wipe the blood off his face, and the other boys gave him a wider
berth as a result. The missing maggots just meant there might be more food for
him and one less person kicking him in the back when he tried to sleep in the
pit. But the news that almost knocked him to his knees was delivered by Red
eye. Sands had not returned, and no one had seen him. The way he had emphasized
“no one” made Quinton believe that at least some of the watchers were working
for the guild. A reassuring thought, as long as you were doing what Fist wanted
and didn’t get caught doing anything wrong -- like taking a little extra food
for yourself. 

A few hours after he returned, Red eye
called a meeting of all maggots. Everyone assembled in the room where what
passed for a meal was served each morning, mockingly referred to as the king’s
kitchen. Quinton looked around. Everyone was slumped against the wall or
sitting on the floor. Their eyes were bloodshot, their shoulders hunched. It
was late afternoon, a time when most would be sleeping. The smallest maggots
were doing their best to keep from falling asleep. One boy sitting on the floor
slumped over on another as if he had just been shot with an arrow before his
new pillow slapped him across the neck so hard that the resounding crack not
only woke up the offender but silenced all the low conversations taking place.
The timing was good, because Red eye walked into the room and seemed somewhat
surprised that he didn’t have to tell everyone to shut up.

“Listen up, maggots,” he unnecessarily
said. “You all know what we’ve seen and heard today. Maggots are being dragged
off the street, but we don’t know why. We know of one person that is confirmed
to be paying for you urchins, but that’s about it.”

Quinton assumed the person Red eye was
talking about was Greenpants, but the talk continued before he could mull it
over much.

“All of you are being put back out on the
streets, because we need more information.” Eyes around the room grew wide.
Most looked scared. Being a petty street criminal had its own inherent risks,
but being kidnapped wasn’t usually one of them. “This could be Lord Wren’s
doing, thanks to whoever aired out his son.” Red eye stared at Quinton, but he
was getting accustomed to meeting him with a blank stare. 

Yeah, I stabbed him, so what? Quinton
thought to himself. Red eye looked away.

“You will all go about your normal business,
being careful not to get caught.” Another unnecessary statement. All the
maggots tried to avoid getting caught; what he really meant was avoid being
killed. “If you see someone trying to grab a maggot or any other urchin, report
back here immediately with the location and description of the people
involved.” There were a few moments of silence. “Move it!” he shouted, and the
room erupted into a boiling mass of boys trying to push through the exit, any
fatigue replaced by a fear of Red eye. “It’s not that we care you are
disappearing,” he shouted above the mass as they struggled to get out, “it’s
that you are guild property that someone is stealing. Fist does not like that.”

Quinton made his way to the door and was
about to exit when Red eye put his hand on his shoulder and roughly pulled him
aside. Had he read his mind about the stabbing?

“I have something special for you,” he
hissed. The other boys avoided eye contact and quickly emptied the room. When
the last sounds of them disappeared down the hall, Red eye looked him up and
down. “What’s wrong with your knee?”

“I hurt it when I was making my escape
from the kidnappers,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Sloppy,” Red eye replied, his voice full
of his disapproval. There was another long pause. “You are a good climber.”
What he said was more of a statement than a question, so Quinton remained
silent. “Do you know where the Lombard Fish Market is?”

Quinton nodded.

“The large building behind it with the
black doors?”

Quinton nodded again. It wasn’t an area
he frequented often, as the pickings were usually pretty slim, but he knew
where he was talking about.

“You will go there, climb the wall of the
black-doored building and make your way across the roof. It connects many
buildings, so you will be able to follow the roofs for some time. When you get
to the other side, you can climb down and you’ll be near a section of the city
wall that has partly collapsed. You can make your way through the gap, because
the walkways are isolated and not patrolled by the guards. There’s some sort of
camp nearby. Find it and identify who is there. That entire area is part of
Lord Wren’s protected area. If you are caught, you will be killed. We do not
know who you are, nor do we care. If you come back without information on the
camp,” he let his voice trail off and finished with his deadly stare. His eyes
contained many emotions, but none of them were good. Quinton felt the fear stir
within him again. Red eye was a difficult man to stand up to. Red eye reached
one of his pale hands into his shirt and pulled out a small vial of what looked
like blood. “Drink this. It will help your knee. It does us no good if you fall
off the wall before you even get there.”

Quinton did as he was told. He took the
vial, pulled out the small wax stopper and drank it in one gulp. The flavor was
a cross between salt water and sewage, with a wicked burning sensation left in
the back of his throat. He could feel the sensation spreading through his
limbs, and then, in a flash, it was gone. Red eye took the vial from him and
walked away without saying a word. Quinton knew he was dismissed and that he
had better get going. He took a careful step on his bad leg but found all the
pain was gone. He took a few more steps and tested it out, flexing this way and
that, but it was if the injury had never occurred. Who knew what was in the
liquid, but it was worth the result.

He made his way out of the guild and into
the street. The sun was already starting to fade low in the sky, and the taller
buildings were casting long shadows on the streets below. He didn’t waste any
time heading for the Lombard Fish Market and he stayed mainly in the middle of
the street, well away from doorways and the alleys. If someone was going to
make an attempt on him, he was at least going to have time to react. A constant
glance over the shoulder added little reassurance.

When he reached the Lombard building, two
huge black doors sat slightly recessed from the street; the lines of the giant
planks that made them up were visible from some distance away. Quinton took up
a spot across the street and scoped out the general area. The building was huge
and dominated the block. It appeared to be some sort of warehouse, but that
didn’t really matter.

The walls were made of cut stone and were
fairly smooth, but certainly climbable, especially now that his knee wasn’t
gimpy. There was no one around, which struck him as odd, because while this
wasn’t the most trafficked area of the city and it was getting late, this was a
little too quiet. On any other night, he would have taken that as a bad omen
and moved on, but tonight, he had no choice.

He waited the better part of another hour
until it was good and dark before he finally made his move. The streets were
deserted and the only sound was that of a light breeze blowing between the
buildings, carrying with it a slight tinge of the salt air from the water
beyond. He quickly moved across the street, throwing a glance either way for
signs of trouble as he went, but nothing stirred. He picked a spot about half
way between the large doors, now lost in a deep shadow and the end of the
building. It looked to have several rough spots that would give him a quick
start about one third of the way up the building without having to think too
much. If trouble came, hopefully he would be out of reach before they could get
to him. If trouble was going to come from the doors, he wouldn’t have enough
time, but there was no facing Red eye again.

Quinton’s heart started to race as he
reached the wall. The stones were uncharacteristically warm but felt reassuring
once he put both hands on the wall and started his way up. If trouble were
coming, he was better served focusing on making a rapid ascent rather than
watching anyone approach, so he ignored the urge to look at the street. Hand
over hand and one toehold at a time, he made his way up the wall. Within a few
minutes, he had one hand on the roof and was pulling himself up. 

He dropped to his knees, took a deep
breath and looked around. The darkness had quickly enveloped the area and there
was only a little starlight, but he could see the rough shapes of the mostly
flat roofs in the area. The street behind him was still empty and no trouble
had come, but he knew he was in enemy territory. Any guards who were posted up
here wouldn’t ask any questions, they would just stick him with a spear and
dump his body below for disposal later. He not only looked around, he cocked
his head from side to side, scanning for any sound at all, the clink of metal
armor, the rattle of a sword in a scabbard or the careless breathing of an
unaware guard. Nothing. Quinton began to wonder if this was some elaborate trap
that Red eye set up, but put the thought out of his head and started moving.

He made good time, because the roofs were
mostly flat and uncluttered. Every once in a while he suddenly stopped and
listened, trying to detect any sounds or signs of pursuit, but after hearing
nothing, he moved on. 

He found the end of the roofline by
almost walking off of it. Only a fresh gust of air told him something was
different. He instantly stopped and stared intently in front of him. A few
steps away, he could see the edge of the roof and the yawning darkness of the
street below. If he had taken two more steps, he would have tripped over the
edge of the building and fallen to his death. Fate had given him a break. He
had a feeling he was going to need more of them.

The far wall of the cluster of buildings
was rougher and in disrepair compared to the other side, so it was a leisurely
climb down. After pausing on the street long enough to be sure no one was
around, Quinton spotted the looming shadow of the massive city wall and the
pile of rubble that led to a large gap. The pile of stones and debris was rough
but almost formed a natural stair that any average person could climb. No
wonder Wren kept this area off limits; otherwise, all the citizens might try to
flee through the beckoning gap. Quinton crossed up and over the pile and found
himself standing outside the city walls, unescorted, for the first time. What
if he just ran off right now? What if he left everything behind?

What would you eat? Answered the voice in
his head. His pockets and his stomach were empty. Not tonight, he told himself,
but soon. He would have to think through how to prepare for a journey that
would allow him to escape the guild.

Where would you go? Asked the voice
again. Away, he answered. Just away.

Before he could think any more about
freedom, he heard a distant noise that sounded like someone snorting or possibly
blowing their nose. There were several large chunks of broken wall surrounded
by weeds and bushes on this side of the gap, so he found a deep shadow and
listened intently. 

The sound came again, and it was getting
closer. It sounded like the person had a cold and was sniffling. Then it came
again. It was higher pitched. Maybe it was a woman. Then it happened again and
it was louder.

“Aw, shut up already,” said a gruff
voice. Two sniffles answered. They were very close. It sounded like at least two
men moving through the weeds along a narrow animal path Quinton could see from
his hiding spot. As they approached, he saw two taller dark shapes, with a
shorter one in between. The shorter one sniffled, and he knew it was another
captured urchin. 

The group passed, and the two men were
hardly paying attention to their surroundings. Both looked to be armed with
crude spears that they were using more as walking sticks. When they were a
little distance away, Quinton left the shadow and carefully followed, always
being careful not to get too close and always had a hiding spot picked out
should the men reverse course.

They wound their way along the trail that
roughly paralleled the wall before turning away when they were well away from
the water. Quinton figured they were somewhere near the main road that led
through the swamps that the occasional merchant caravan used to bring goods
into the city. He started to hear other voices, so he increased the distance
between him and his quarry. Up ahead, he could see the light of a few fires,
which were in holes and shielded with what looked like wagons that stood
between the camp and the city. There were bound to be sentries, so he found a
particularly overgrown area that had a view of the camp and settled in to observe.