south, so much easier to go back. The Usurper welcomes all to his cities but the north gate is watched, closed to the likes of you.’ Ezze’s frame shakes with a theatrical sigh. ‘But Ezze sees your heart is set. It will take a miracle and lots of wealth but it can happen. You stay here out of sight and Ezze will go, see what can be done for you, my travel-hungry friend.’
With practised ease, Ezze slips out into the shop. ‘Bruise, watch for customers. Remember, they cannot leave until they buy. And you, beast—’ he picks up a heavy piece of striped plastic sheeting ‘—your hairiness must be hidden!’ He throws the plastic over the goat’s head. ‘And if you shit on my floor, Ezze eats goat’s eyes tonight, ha!’
Bruise watches his master leave, smile settling to a sneer.
In the shopkeeper’s absence, other noises take their turn. Erratically, tech ticks and legs scuttle just behind the walls. Though dimmed the street continues to bustle outside.
Small hands press on the inside of the Vagrant’s coat. He puts the baby on the bed, begins to search the room, lifting covers and lids. Mismatched earrings sit with nipple rings and nose studs, too clean to be innocent. Toes peek beneath a cloth in a corner, motionless. Frowning, the Vagrant pulls it away revealing a woman of foam, headless, her hips squished flat. He drops the cover back, searching no further.
A fresh smell fills the room, pungent, violent.
The baby giggles.
The Vagrant sighs, folds the soiled cloth and hides it, a secret memento. Bare legs wave excitedly, dancing to a beat unheard.
Hours pass. The baby drinks, wriggles, sleeps.
Footsteps herald the shopkeeper’s return. The Vagrant’s coat sweeps down, swallowing the baby once more.
‘Now it is all clear! Ezze has heard rumours, strange things.’ A hand waves towards the Vagrant. ‘Ezze has many friends and they tell him that the Usurper’s knights came here when they should not, entering the city before Darktime. Can you imagine such a thing? They are searching for a man. Some say he has killed one of them. Impossible, yes, but they are here. Ezze hears a challenge has been made between these knights and the Uncivil’s Duke. The one who gets this man first, wins. Both sides, they are hungry for victory, they will give a great reward to whoever helps them win. You understand, yes?’
The Vagrant’s hand drifts slowly towards the sword’s hilt.
‘All of Verdigris is looking for this man. If he wishes to escape he will need to be clever, to have powerful friends and great wealth. Ezze can be that friend, he has found people that can help but they are scared. Ezze is scared. But everything has a price; freedom, courage, it can all be bought if you have the right goods.’
Getting up, the Vagrant uncovers the goat, detaches a sack.
‘Ah yes, Ezze is interested. What else do you have?’
The Vagrant’s eyes narrow.
‘Before, a sack of pasha would be enough. But now? Now everything is changed. Now they are looking for you, all of them. Terrible things would happen if we are caught and then what would happen to the thirteen children, the three sisters, the sick brother who coughs blood, the hungry wives, and the lovers who keep Ezze going?’
Sacks are lined up between them, leaving the goat skinny, unburdened.
‘For this, Ezze can disguise you, get you to the gates a safe way, even bribe the guards. But you will need a distraction. It will cost. You understand, miracles are never cheap, eh?’
The Vagrant holds out a coin. It sits in his palm, too bright for the dingy room.
Ezze peers at the shining disk. ‘But what is this, another mystery? Ezze is speechless! There is a good price for these on the market now, so rare.’ Happy sweat lines the shopkeeper’s lip. ‘This is good, very good. Ezze accepts your offer.’ The coin is taken, kissed and tucked away, soft luminescence hidden within folded sleeves. ‘You still stare at Ezze, why? Ah you want change. Of
With practised ease, Ezze slips out into the shop. ‘Bruise, watch for customers. Remember, they cannot leave until they buy. And you, beast—’ he picks up a heavy piece of striped plastic sheeting ‘—your hairiness must be hidden!’ He throws the plastic over the goat’s head. ‘And if you shit on my floor, Ezze eats goat’s eyes tonight, ha!’
Bruise watches his master leave, smile settling to a sneer.
In the shopkeeper’s absence, other noises take their turn. Erratically, tech ticks and legs scuttle just behind the walls. Though dimmed the street continues to bustle outside.
Small hands press on the inside of the Vagrant’s coat. He puts the baby on the bed, begins to search the room, lifting covers and lids. Mismatched earrings sit with nipple rings and nose studs, too clean to be innocent. Toes peek beneath a cloth in a corner, motionless. Frowning, the Vagrant pulls it away revealing a woman of foam, headless, her hips squished flat. He drops the cover back, searching no further.
A fresh smell fills the room, pungent, violent.
The baby giggles.
The Vagrant sighs, folds the soiled cloth and hides it, a secret memento. Bare legs wave excitedly, dancing to a beat unheard.
Hours pass. The baby drinks, wriggles, sleeps.
Footsteps herald the shopkeeper’s return. The Vagrant’s coat sweeps down, swallowing the baby once more.
‘Now it is all clear! Ezze has heard rumours, strange things.’ A hand waves towards the Vagrant. ‘Ezze has many friends and they tell him that the Usurper’s knights came here when they should not, entering the city before Darktime. Can you imagine such a thing? They are searching for a man. Some say he has killed one of them. Impossible, yes, but they are here. Ezze hears a challenge has been made between these knights and the Uncivil’s Duke. The one who gets this man first, wins. Both sides, they are hungry for victory, they will give a great reward to whoever helps them win. You understand, yes?’
The Vagrant’s hand drifts slowly towards the sword’s hilt.
‘All of Verdigris is looking for this man. If he wishes to escape he will need to be clever, to have powerful friends and great wealth. Ezze can be that friend, he has found people that can help but they are scared. Ezze is scared. But everything has a price; freedom, courage, it can all be bought if you have the right goods.’
Getting up, the Vagrant uncovers the goat, detaches a sack.
‘Ah yes, Ezze is interested. What else do you have?’
The Vagrant’s eyes narrow.
‘Before, a sack of pasha would be enough. But now? Now everything is changed. Now they are looking for you, all of them. Terrible things would happen if we are caught and then what would happen to the thirteen children, the three sisters, the sick brother who coughs blood, the hungry wives, and the lovers who keep Ezze going?’
Sacks are lined up between them, leaving the goat skinny, unburdened.
‘For this, Ezze can disguise you, get you to the gates a safe way, even bribe the guards. But you will need a distraction. It will cost. You understand, miracles are never cheap, eh?’
The Vagrant holds out a coin. It sits in his palm, too bright for the dingy room.
Ezze peers at the shining disk. ‘But what is this, another mystery? Ezze is speechless! There is a good price for these on the market now, so rare.’ Happy sweat lines the shopkeeper’s lip. ‘This is good, very good. Ezze accepts your offer.’ The coin is taken, kissed and tucked away, soft luminescence hidden within folded sleeves. ‘You still stare at Ezze, why? Ah you want change. Of
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