Chapter 4

  The Gift

  The next few days passed by in a steady, methodical manner like that of a gigantic clock. Theo wished the time would pass slower, that the ticking would take longer, that he could have more time to think and gather his resolve. The meeting at the Salted Crab was tomorrow and accompaning it was a pollutant sense of dread and anxiety. When the time came to act, he’d be stepping into a vast abyss of unknown and uncertainty—without even the support of Jane.

  Following the slap, she’d stubbornly ignored Theo in passing, treating him with the same contempt as a common patron. He’d dispensed with the brief possibility of withdrawing from the whole thing with the crime syndicate and instead, tried to simply not think about the entire affair until the day of the appointment. By which time he hoped to have mustered enough resolve to follow through.

  Within his own room, the half-elf stood near the window, gazing out at the clay rooftops of Leeside. The violent storm which had struck so fiercely the other day had by now moved on, leaving behind nothing more than a few clay tiles shattered on the ground below. Now, the sky was clear, granting sovereignty to the sun which bleached the masonry dry around the city. He recalled the layer of steam which rose from the ground shorty after the clouds abated, how the hot air had felt thick enough to swim through. Children came out to play in droves while Pseudodragons took to the skies once more like flying gemstones, their rain-flecked scales shining in colours of amber, emerald, and sapphire.

  Below him, in the gardens, Matilda and Mirella were walking hand in hand and discussing something. His curiosity getting the better of him, Theo trained his ears to catch what was being said. Eavesdropping came easy to his acute ears, which often snatched certain words of interest unconsciously.

  Mirella was looking down at her feet while she spoke and even though the pair were nearly twenty feet below, Theo might as well have been walking along with them by the clarity of their words. “I’ve been booked again this weekend”

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? I’m sure Margret’s pleased you have some recurring customers. The way business has been going since the event, I’ve heard she’s considered dropping Roland from her service.” Mirella looked up from the ground to face Matilda with a questioning gaze.

  “And where exactly do you hear such rumours? I swear, no matter what happens in this place, you always seem to be the first person to know” she said with a somewhat exasperated tone.

  Matilda made a gesture of taking a key to her mouth and locking it shut, sealing behind it a childish giggle. A blush spread across her sunburnt face as she swung their hands upwards playfully.

  “Everyone has their secrets” she teased.

  The redhead’s childish smile was met with the much more mature and concerned face of Mirella. Her giddy enthusiasm dissolved rapidly under this unimpressed gaze.

  “What’s with this re-occurring client, anyway?” continued Matilda, “The couple seem nice?”

  This piqued Theo’s interest as he knew the couple in question were the Magus and his mistress.

  “It’s just—” the older woman began, seemingly losing her words in memory. She looked around the gardens before leaning into Matilda’s right ear. Hopelessly, Theo crouched to bring his ears closer to them but, even for him, the words were spoken too softly for him to distinguish. Matilda drew back with alarm.

  “She does what?” She exclaimed.

  Just as Mirella was hushing her, Margret marched out into the gardens below him. She was escorted by a well-built man who had one arm wrapped about her waist; his thick moustache waxed into fine points. The man made a comment which caused Margret to laugh exuberantly loud. Hearing this, Mirella and Matilda faded away behind the shadow of a rose bush, then dashed inside to avoid any contact with their Matron. Theo leaned away from his window and wondered just what exactly Mirella has whispered. A part of him really didn’t want to know.

  With the day still hot and young, Theo found himself before his mother’s old vanity table. The dark, rich wood still held fond memories within its structure, the chip on its left leg was still there after Theo had accidenlty collided with it as a toddler. The faded colouring where his mother’s elbows rested night after night before her work. He looked at his clouded reflection in the oval mirror set into the wood piece and saw a young half-elf looking back; one much older than the toddler he remembered.

  His mother’s make-ups and scented oils remained below the mirror, similar to the glass sentries in Jane’s room. He fingered at a small teal-blue tin which sat on one of the many vanity shelves; a thick sheet of dust coating its lid. He found himself reaching for it impassively and twisting the lid with a slight squeak. It contained a pale paste which he recalled his mother using it to hide blemishes and inconsistencies on her skin, he could still see the tread marks where her fingers once sailed through it. His acute nose picked up the faint and familiar scent diffused from the makeup he was holding, widening the door into his childhood. He closed the small tin hurriedly, dropping it with a crash on the vanity board before fleeing the room as that smell chased him--trying to swallow him up. Turning, he slammed the door as if in hot pursuit by the Striga or perhpas his dead mother herself.

  Racing downstairs, Theo found himself met with the dreadful glare of Margret who had returned inside with Mr. Mustachio. He paused to gather himself, noticing the girls dance hastily from kitchen to table with platters filled with steaming seafoods and vegetables. The bar was manned not only by Jessica, but by Leo too, who likely volunteered to help out while he was on his break. He still had an hour of free time remaining, but Theo felt a great need to busy his hands in order to distract his mind.

  “Theo?” called Leo, confused. He was in the middle of pouring a pint for a customer when Theo noticed a scrawny cat taking residence behind the bar. It was drinking from a saucer of goat’s milk, its head darting frantically around at any outburst of noise. At first, he assumed perhaps Jessica had taken pity on the small feline.

  “I’d get that out of here if I was you,” he said. “Before Margret sees it and decides to have it skinned.”

  Jessica smiled, while Leo let out a snigger handing his customer his change.

  “It was Margret’s idea.” The bouncer proclaimed. At Theo’s bewildered face, he lowered his voice to a whisper and added, behind the back of a hand, “To help ward away pests”

  Theo recalled the rat he’d saw in the cellar and assumed if there was one, there was likely many more that scuttled about the building. If left unchecked, they may indeed become an issue. Obtaining a stray cat to deal with the problem seemed like the frugal decision characteristic of someone like Margret, who would sooner invite all the strays of Leeside into her establishment before hiring a trained trapper. Only to then kick them all out immediately once the rats were gone.

  Later that evening, when Theo descended once more into the cellar to recover a bottle of Virgil’s Reserve for one of Margret’s special clients, he came upon a bastion of Margret’s distress. If his ears hadn't picked up on the sound, the rat watching him from the shadowed corner would have likely gone unnoticed. It was strange, but with an odd sort of certainty, he knew it to be the exact same rat he’d met previously. Another bottle lay smashed, which was odd seeing as all the other bottles sat perfectly in their holds. Theo kneeled, dabbing a finger in the spilled wine; it was still fresh. From its shadow, the rat moved slowly into the light that fell in from the open trapdoor. He watched the rodent with an odd sort of fascination, observing the chewed right ear—likely inflicted by one of its own--and how the rat’s whiskers bent disparagingly in all directions. Theo glanced up nervously, half expecting to see a skulking feline ready to pounce. Thankfully for the rat there wasn’t.

  “You best be careful,” Theo said to the little grey rodent, “The witch upstairs has it out for you, and if you’re not careful…tut, tut.” He said all this as if the rat could not only understand the common speech of man, but also the metaphorical gesture. The rat eyed him for a moment, then lowered on all fours to come closer. Theo was temporarily stunned by the rodent’s boldness as it scurried around the crimson pool of wine. When it got but a single foot from him, it raised itself up on its hind legs again and, amazingly, held out its arms like some small infant wanting to be picked up.

  Most astonishing of all; however, was when Theo held out his hand in benign interest, the rat leapt, clambered up his arm until it came to rest at his shoulder. A part of him wanted to wriggle off the furry critter, but he instead watched it in disbelief. It sniffed and nibbled his ear playfully giving him the impression it was entirely comfortable around people which in turn spurred him to ponder whether this was perhaps someone’s pet.

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  “Well, you’re a smart rat, aren’t you?” he said, turning his head to look into the creature’s eyes. From within their depths, he saw a pale blue glimmer. “Either that, or you’re a dumb rat with a death wish.” The rat seemed to take offence as it moved back down his shoulder to the wrist, eventually leaping off him with zeal. Small, shallow scratches were left behind on Theo’s forearm as the rat scurried off to its small hidey-hole at the back of the cellar. It took one last glance at him, then vanished.

  *

  That night after returning to his room, weary and a little frightened at what tomorrow might bring, Theo noticed something that made him pause. There, on his bed, was a long ornate box, its polished wood drinking in the moonlight from the open window. Nervously, he looked about the room. Whomever had left this strange box seemed to have left without any trace.

  As Margret had the only key to the door, Theo had no way of locking it himself, which could help explain how the trespasser was able to come and go without detection. Silently, Theo closed the door behind him and made his way towards the box. All the while, his mind raced as it tried to understand the situation. He grew increasingly uncomfortable the more he thought about it. He plucked a small piece of torn parchment resting atop the polished box and read: ‘Don’t use it unless you have to’ written in fine handwriting.

  As he held the parchment in his hands, the recognizable scent of old books greeted his nose. Given the lack of any text aside from what was handwritten, Theo concluded it must've come from a filler page within a large tome. With that, his mind instantly thought of the books lining the more prestigious booth downstairs, where Margret and Mr. Mustachio were likely sitting right now.

  He looked down at the glossy wood, feeling a strange sort of excitement brewing within him as he eyed the two silver latches that sealed whatever lay inside. With two pleasant clicks, Theo lifted the lid. Inside, laying neatly in a bed of sea-green silk was a shortsword. The blades sheathe was slightly curved, giving him the impression that this was made with the elven craft in mind. He stroked his fingers across the tiny silver leaves that ran from tip to cross-guard, admiring how the cross-guard itself was made of a polished steel while the grip was bloodwood and dark. Theo investigated it closely, bringing the handle to his face for closer inspection; its weight felt good. On it’s round pummel he noticed the embroidery of a leaf woven within its centre. He gripped the pummel, feeling an odd sort of power immediately fill him. When he finally came to unsheathing the blade, the elegant steel hissed its arrival and drank the midnight hue.

  ‘Beautiful’ was the only word he could use to describe it. But who would give me such a gift? He wondered. For a weapon as intricate as this would fetch a heavy price. He peered at the parchment again, trying to discern the hand that wrote it.

  ‘Don’t use it unless you have to’

  Could this actually be from Jane? Surely not, she’s avoided me the two days and besides, where would she get the money to purchase such a thing? The sound of movement in the gardens below returned his mind to the present. Sheathing the blade carefully, he placed the box on the floor; out the way and lay back on his bed. Even in its casing the sword had a hypnotic effect on him. It was by far the most expensive thing he’d ever owned which only heightened this new sense of self-determination he currently felt. Here he was, holding a real blade. Meeting a group of criminals armed with his own steel would surely show his self-worth.

  Pivoting the sword around with two hands, Theo gazed out of his window noticing the large moon ‘Petra’: the moon of longing, chasing ‘Petalorum’, the smaller, rose-coloured moon who currently emerged partly veiled behind a cloud. It is believed that Petra and Petalorum were once God’s that gave birth to the world, until a deity named Rex imprisoned them within their own moon and forever kept them apart in the heavens. It is said that Petra will eventually catch his lover one night and break her free, so they might be together once again. Theo considered just how much his own life felt like a similar sad tale.

  Temporarily hypnotised by both the night sky and the sheathe of his new shortsword, Theo suddenly stiffened when his ears detected an approaching drumbeat of steps coming up the corridor to his door. It was likely one of the girls returning to their room with a client, except Theo quickly discerned only one set of footsteps. He bolted upright fearing Margret and panicked when he realised: he was clutching an expensive item Margret would certaintly take away if caught with. Before he could do anything, let alone think, the door to his room began to fly inwards. In a single heartbeat of a moment, he managed to awkwardly swing the sword behind his back as well as heal-kick the box further under the bed. The back of his foot screamed in distress but was quickly forgotten when the matron barged in.

  “Where is it!?” she roared, and Theo realised with dread she presently had a few bottles of wine coursing through her veins. He leaned backwards in an attempt to further bury the sword into the mattress under his weight. The terrifying likelihood that Margret could have discovered his new gift so swiftly stunned him. Margret staggered slightly, catching herself on the door.

  “Come on! Don’t just sit there looking dumbfounded.” She slurred, stumbling further inside the room. “You think I’m really that dumb, Theo? Where is it? Where’s Jane’s key!”

  He paused, trying to align what he was hearing into sense. A tiny flicker of relief fluttered from within him like a hope-filled butterfly. His sword for the most part remained a secret.

  “I don’t have—” Theo began, before catching something in his periphery. There, on his mother’s vanity table was none other than Jane’s key; its pink gemstone handle reflecting brightly in the moonlit room. He had hardly noticed it upon entering due to the foreign box sitting on his bed. Margret traced his gaze and with triumphant determination marched forward to the vanity table.

  Theo used the opportunity to quickly pull a pillow from the head of his bed and use it to cover the sword. He stood up as Margret scooped the small golden key, inspecting it closely. She turned; jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. Despite her apparent drunkenness, she covered the ground between them with a startling speed, and with her full weight and fury behind it, struck him with an open palm across the face. He heard Jane’s key tumble to the floor as the surprise attack knocked him off his balance. White spots bloomed into his vision as he fell backwards onto the bed—which were feverishly refreshed as Margret launched blow after blow atop him. He had been at her mercy like this only once before, but not so drunkenly ruthless.

  Theo tucked his head between his forearms in desperate defence. It wasn’t until he started shielding more blows than he was receiving, Margret withdrew, her eyes manic. “You’re done Theo.” She panted through infalted nostrils. Theo lowered his arms wearily, watching with fiery resentment as the woman before him bent to recover Jane’s key from the floor. On her ascent, her heavily lidded eyes hesitated a moment to ponder the polished box under his bed.

  “And what do we have here?” The matron snarled derisively. Before she took two paces towards him, Theo found his hands scrambling beneath the pillow behind him. In a mad instant, steel flashed, and Margret let out a terrified shriek as if a demon had just been conjured before her. His head was still pounding from the beating but he locked eyes with his matron’s stricken face.

  “Back off” he said plainly, realising he was pointing a blade at Margret’s chest. He read the utter confusion and shock ithat twitsted in Margret’s disbelieving eyes, which had also sobered her up rather quickly.

  For a moment Theo just stood there, pondering his next move. He’d never so much as argued back to his matron and here he was essentially threatening her life.

  “I didn’t steal Jane’s key and you’re not taking my stuff.” Said Theo, surprised by his current lack of fear. It was so unlike him that he worried at any moment this new mask of courage would forsake him and slip off. He supposed it was the sword as well as Margret’s sudden fright that gave him courage.

  “I’m leaving.” Theo said assertively. He knew he’d crossed a line he couldn’t ever wish to return to. Despite this, regret was not part of the current whirlpool of emotions he was experiencing. He just wanted to leave this place without injury, even if it meant banking all his hopes on the crime syndicate. “Move,” he added, lowering the sword. Margret remained still, her face contorting madly as two sides fought for supremacy within her. One side was the matriarch she’d learned to become while the other was someone attempting to figure out exactly how dangerous the person before them was.

  “Leaving?” Margret snarled derisively, “And where do think you’ll go?”

  “Anywhere’s better than here” Answered Theo, turning to pick up his box. He didn’t have much property to begin with and didn’t think asking Margret what he could and couldnt have to be a wise chice right now.

  “You insolent, ungrateful little runt.” He heard her spit as he knelt. “My husband should’ve listened to me when you and mother knocked on our door.”

  “You said I had been born here?” Theo said raising with his box. He didnt want to talk to Margret anymore than he had too.

  “A lie,” declared Margret detestably, her lips piercing into fine slits. “A lie we all told to protect precious little Theo. A lie your mother somehow convinced my husband to make. You were red-cheeked and wriggling before ever coming to this prestigious place. You don’t think a whorehouse of all places have ways of dealing with unwanted accidents?”

  Theo contemplated the possibility that this was indeed true, but it was Margret speaking these words. No doubt, this was just one of her creative ways to hurt him, to seed doubt in him for some unknown reason. He tucked the box under one arm, deciding to keep the blade handy a while in case Margret had any reckless ideas.

  “I warned my husband about your kind. And your father,” Margret let out snort, “bad blood only ever seeds more bad blood. I would have drowned his baby in a well if a man ever forced it upon me, more so if he was a forest dwelling savage. I pitied your mother for deciding to raise you, you must have been a painful reminder to her, all throughout her short life.”

  “You’re lying.” Theo said over his shoulder. Margret let out a cackle which sent rivulets of anger to suddenly wash over him.

  “You’ve always been the little naive boy Theo. Petra knows I tried to beat it out of you. You have no idea what it’s like out there. I protect you. I protected your mother!”

  “My mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you” Theo said hotly. He needed to get out of here he knew, before he didn’t something rash.

  “Your mother was a fine courtesan, but she had her weaknesses Theo, you know that. I didn’t kill your mother and as for you, you’d be dead or in some orphanage if not for me.”

  “SHUT UP!” Theo roared slamming the ornate box into the mattress as if it suddenly had caught fire. Turning, he saw the uncertain eyes of Margret dart to his sword hand. He was squeezing the pummel so tightly he could feel hot sweat coating the wood.

  Like a shadow, Leo appeared in the doorway behind Margret. How long he’d been there Theo didn’t know. Seeing Theo’s eye wander behind her, Margret twirled and immediately stiffened her back upon noticing the bouncer. In her most commanding tone, she said “Theo is no longer under my protection or services. Please escort him outside Leo. And if you see him around my establishment again…” There was a moments pause. “Call the guards on him for trespassing.”