Seven years ago

  With a heavy heart, Turgeon turned and went back into the strange inn after Aelfredd’s strong silhouette had vanished around a corner in the crowded streets of the Flats.

  His brother had told him he would be safe here, staying with this distant cousin from Aelfredd’s mother’s side of the family, Markus. It was a fairly respectable looking inn, near the border of the Flats and Topcoin. In this area the buildings began to rise taller than the rest of the Flats, and were built more solidly with even the occasional superficial exterior adornment.

  It was still difficult for the young boy to understand why his brother, the only family he had really ever known, had to leave. Aelfredd had insisted it was something he had to do, and that he would be back as soon as he could, but that he would likely be gone for months. Possibly even years, he had said. Turgeon had tried to be brave, choking back the tears that tried to force their way out, but in the end he had given in to the sobbing, holding his brother and begging him not to leave him.

  Markus seemed friendly enough, despite being as large and hairy as a bear. Turgeon could see the familial similarities between the cousins, both had the same fair and freckled skin with bright red and curly hair. It was apparent that Markus ran a tight ship at the inn from the way the staff behaved around him and how clean the common room was.

  When Aelfredd had brought him here the night before he had said his plan was to leave Turgeon here and set out on whatever journey called him away that night, but he had argued with Markus late into the night and ended up leaving in the morning. In some ways, that made it harder to watch him go, knowing that he would have the whole day to spend alone and miss his brother.

  They had sent Turgeon to bed in the small garret room that would become his home for the next while. Markus closed the inn’s common room for the evening, allowing the few boarders who had taken rooms previously to stay the night but not admitting any other guests for food and drink. He even sent home the serving staff and cooks.

  When he thought it was safe, Turgeon had snuck down from his room to sit at the top of the stairs from the floor with the guest rooms to the common room and listen to his brother argue with the innkeeper.

  “It’s something I have to do, Markus. Surely you understand that this may be our best chance for Justice.”

  “You and your constant need for Justice. Can’t you understand that sometimes, some things are just more important? Like taking care of Turgeon?”

  “You’re here too Markus, you can do your part and watch the boy for a few months while I’m away. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “A few months you say? You really think this will all be over that quickly? And what if you don’t come back at all?”

  “We both know that won’t happen, I’m too good at what I do.”

  “Pretty cocky there, Aelf. War is war. Even the greatest warriors fall in battle. You and I both know that’s not a promise you can make.”

  Turgeon wasn’t able to hear Aelfredd’s response, but he apparently acquiesced the point.

  “What happens to the boy if you don’t come back, Aelf? How do you think he’s going to take that? You’re the only family he knows.”

  “You’ll just have to make do, Mark. This is something I have to do. Father deserves Justice, and this may just be my best chance of getting it for him.”

  “Back to Justice again. This isn’t Justice you pursue Aelf, it’s revenge. Cold and simple.”

  “So what if it is? Have I not earned revenge? Is it any less justified?”

  “You think I don’t want revenge too? Revenge isn’t ours to take. When the time is right, the opportunity will come to us. I’m willing to bide my time.”

  “You always were, Mark. I’m not. That’s all there is to it.

  Turgeon must have nodded off, because his next sensation was that of being lifted up by Markus’ powerful arms and carried back to his bed in the garret. Markus felt him stirring and smiled at him, “Shh, back to sleep with you. I don’t know how much of that you heard, but it’s none of your concern for now. You’ll be safe here while your brother does what he thinks he must.”

  So it was that the next morning Aelfredd persisted on his quest and Markus didn’t argue with him any further. Turgeon and Markus had said their farewells in the common room, but Markus stayed inside while Turgeon went outside with Aelfredd to give him one last hug before he left.

  “You be good for cousin Markus, y’hear?” Turgeon nodded, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  *****

  In the coming weeks Turgeon settled into life at Markus’ inn. He helped out where he could, bussing tables in the common room at night and helping the maid clean the rooms by day. All in all, it was easier work than what he was accustomed to on the farm he had shared with Aelfredd.

  With what little free time Markus allowed him, Turgeon had taken up with a small band of urchin kids that roamed the neighborhood. Two boys and a girl, none of them had any family to care for them. They had found an abandoned home tucked away in a rarely used alley, a small one room building wedged between larger buildings and forgotten by time. The urchins, who called themselves the alley rats, were adept at the sleight of hand required for small time thievery. They fed themselves by picking pockets, swiping food from merchant stalls in the neighborhood markets and, as a last resort, raiding the kitchens of inns like Markus’ inn, The Sage’s Rest.

  That was how Turgeon had first encountered an alley rat, one evening as he was sweeping up the kitchen he heard an unusual noise from under the wood topped island the cook used to knead bread and chop vegetables. Thinking it might be an actual rat, he swatted under the large table with his broom and felt a satisfying thwack when it hit something large and solid, bigger than an actual rat could possibly be.

  The impact was accompanied by a muffled grunt of pain, and when he looked under the island he was more than a bit surprised to find a dirty boy, not much younger than himself, huddled there and clutching a half loaf of bread.

  When his initial surprise wore off, and he sucked in a great breath to propel a shout for Markus to come see what he had found, the boy cut him off before he could shout.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged, “my friends and I, we’re ‘ungry, we jus’ need grubs to eat, please. We’re ‘rupting starvin’.”

  He knew Markus would not approve of him allowing theft from his kitchens, but he also knew that if he reported the boy for theft his punishment would be harsh. Even a sheltered boy of Turgeon’s age knew that Falkaria City did not treat thieves well when they didn’t have the backing of the Syndicates.

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  “Ok…,” Turgeon agreed, “But you have to leave now, out the back door.”

  The other boy agreed, and dashed towards the door. When he was almost out and into the alley behind the inn, a thought occurred to Turgeon.

  “Wait!” He shouted, loudly enough to stop the boy but not so loud that anyone in the common room would hear, “In the future, come see me instead of stealing. If we have any scraps to share, I’ll give them to you.”

  The boy didn’t seem to believe him, but he did hesitate before leaving. “What’s your name, servant boy?”

  “I’m not a servant, I’m… I’m just staying at the inn for a while and helping out,” after saying it out loud, he realized that he couldn’t really distinguish the difference himself. The other boy obviously felt the same by the half grin on his face. “My name’s Turgeon,” he plowed forward, “What’s yours?”

  “My name’s Kael, I’m the leader of the alley rats,” he said with undisguised pride. “We’ll see you around, Turgeon.” With that, he dashed out the door into the alley and was gone.

  It wasn’t long before Kael returned to the inn, hoping for the scraps Turgeon had promised. Late one evening, as he was again sweeping out the kitchen, Turgeon heard a scratching noise at the alley door. Kael awaited on the other side, furtive eyes darting as he peered into the kitchen to confirm Turgeon was alone.

  “Oi, servant boy, ‘ow’s abou’ some o’ tha’ grub ya promised?”

  Markus’ cook had prepared a barley stew for the inn’s guests that evening, and there was still quite a bit left over in the pot, enough that nobody would notice a few additional bowls missing. The only problem, Turgeon realized, was providing Kael with a container to transport the stew back to wherever he would take it to share with his other alley rats. Thinking quickly, Turgeon checked the dishes and saw that if there was one thing the inn had enough of it was wooden ale mugs. Markus had so many mugs in the place there was no way he would notice one missing, and if he did Turgeon could probably convince him he had found one with a crack and tossed it in the midden out back.

  “Bring the mug back next time, Kael. The owner won’t notice one mug missing, but if it becomes a regular thing he’ll start to ask questions.”

  Kale nodded and thanked Turgeon for the hot food, darting quickly back out through the door to once again return to his hideaway.

  This exchange repeated itself in some form with fairly regular frequency over the coming weeks, Kael and Turgeon interacting only briefly and furtively late in the evening as he finished chores in the kitchen.

  One afternoon when the inn wasn’t busy Turgeon was light on work to do inside and Markus sent him on an errand to the market to buy more onions for the evening meal.

  On his way to the market he heard a quiet but insistent “psst!” from the mouth of a dark alley he was passing. When he stopped to look, the alley itself, overshadowed by tall apartment buildings on either side, was dark as night and he couldn’t see who had made the noise to get his attention.

  As young boys will do, he barely hesitated at all before plunging into the alley to identify the source of the sound. He didn’t make it far before he heard it again, deeper into the alley this time. At this, he did hesitate and consider this might not be the wisest course of action, but only for a moment. Following the sound deeper into the alley, he was rewarded by the sight of his friend Kael and two other children who looked to be a bit younger than Kael himself, a boy and a girl.

  “Oi, Turgeon! Welcome to our alley. Meet the rest of the alley rats, Mika and Tress. Alley rats, meet Turgeon the servant boy, our recent patron of the barley stew.”

  “Hello! So, this is your home? It’s … nice and … dark.” Turgeon said awkwardly, not exactly sure how to handle himself in this situation and more than a bit concerned. He knew Kael, but didn’t exactly trust the boy. He had met him after he had broken into the inn and stolen food after all, and was significantly outnumbered by these children who had undoubtedly lived a harder life than he had.

  Mika and Tress were shy though, practically hiding behind Kael and not making eye contact with Turgeon as they mumbled greetings he couldn’t quite make out.

  Kael laughed at Turgeon’s awkwardness though, somewhat defusing the situation. “Aye, the alley is dark, and it is nice. We like it that way. But it’s not our home, come and I’ll show you.”

  Again against his better judgment, but he was already in too deep, Turgeon followed the other children deeper into the alley as they led him to their hideaway. It was a run down abandoned house nestled between two taller buildings deep into the unused alleyway, made of brick and built long ago when the city was young and buildings were smaller. Most constructions of that era had been razed to make way for newer, larger, buildings like those around them, but this one had somehow survived here, hidden away in this alley.

  Kael and his compatriots had furnished the building’s only room with basic comforts: three small pallets for sleeping nestled in the corners, a low table and two chairs in the middle. One wall held a small, dirty, fireplace within which Turgeon saw what looked to be the remains of the third chair. Firewood was probably harder to come by than food for this small band of thieves, he realized, as it wouldn't fit easily in a pocket.

  So it was that Turgeon began to visit the alley rats regularly at their hideout, bringing food when he could, but also firewood and other essentials that the children struggled to steal. It was hard to hide his own thievery from Markus – and he knew that’s what it was, despite telling himself it was for a good cause – and he suspected Markus was aware at least that extra goods were disappearing from the inn more regularly than before. Perhaps Markus also knew where they were going, because outside of a few strange looks he never said or did anything to hinder Turgeon’s efforts to supply the urchins.

  In turn, they began to let him into their own world little by little, teaching him their tricks of the trade like the sleight of hand they used to pickpocket and swipe small items from the market. Kael and Mika showed him the secret routes they used through the neighborhood’s alleys, allowing them to travel about unseen. Tress showed him her hiding spots, places where she could lurk almost in plain sight and observe the goings on of the neighborhood’s residents.

  It was in one of those hideaways on a dreary afternoon that Turgeon overheard a most disturbing conversation between a well dressed man with a deep voice and carrying a strange accent and a man and a woman who looked to be locals from the neighborhood based on their garb, which was basic Falkarian peasant garb: simple, drab and unadorned.

  The foreigner had confronted the family outside of their tenement building, near where Turgeon and Tress hid in a small gap under the stairs up to the entrance from the muddy street.

  “This is your last chance, Burgrid. I will be taking your daughter with me, the only choice you have is whether or not you’ll be getting paid for her.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” the man asked while the woman sobbed quietly.

  “We’ve been over this Burgrid, it’s none of your business.”

  “But you can see that my wife and I can’t just let you have our daughter. For all we know you’re going to turn around and sell her into prostitution with the Syndicate…”

  “I assure you, it’s nothing so base as that. Your daughter has certain… talents that even she isn’t aware of yet. I will teach her and make use of those talents. She will have a comfortable life, I can assure you of that.”

  By their expressions, it was plain that the couple didn’t put much stock in this man’s assurances.

  “I swear to you, Hegbert, if I find you’ve lied to us I’ll hunt you down and…”

  “And do what?” the foreigner laughed at Burgrid, “Get yourself killed? Take what I’m offering and be happy with it, Burgrid.”

  “We have on request, sir,” the woman spoke up for the first time, “Take our son too. The children love each other, and I couldn’t bear to separate them. He’ll look out for her and keep her safe.”

  A strange request, even Turgeon realized. It caught the foreigner off guard and he considered it for a moment before nodding in acquiescence. “I think I can make that work, yes… that may actually be even better for the plan. Fine, I will take both children.”

  While the men worked out the terms of the exchange, the woman sobbed quietly and hugged herself.

  Tress seemed unfazed by what they were hearing, but Turgeon was shocked. “We have to do something,” he whispered, “We have to help them… save their children…” he trailed off as he saw the expression on Tress’ face.

  “What kind of ‘rupting idiot are you servant boy?” She looked at him like he’d grown another head. “There’s squat we can do for ‘em, ‘e’ll jus’ end up dead ourselves if ‘e gi’ involved.”

  She was right, he knew, but that didn’t change how he felt. They hid there, under the stairs, feeling helpless and ashamed. That night, at the inn, Turgeon sobbed himself to sleep thinking about the poor children who would be ripped away from their parents to serve the nefarious ends of the cruel foreigner.

  When he came downstairs to the inn’s common room the next morning, part of him was actually sad to see Aelfredd sitting at one of the inn’s tables conversing with Markus in low tones. He was, of course, happy to see his brother home safely. But he was sad to know that this chapter of his life, at the inn and with his new friends the alley rats, was coming to a close.