“Determined to meet her masters wishes, Alias has her plans foiled when her mentor suggests an alternate route.”
It had been a restless sleep for Alias. She tossed and turned on the small cot in her room, worrying over how she might come up with twenty krents. It was well after sunup when she finally dozed off, too tired to consider her problems further. She managed only a couple of hours of sleep before waking bleary eyed and curled into the warmth of her narrow cot. What sleep she got was enough to at first dull her senses against the worry of last night’s failure. Now that she was fully awake, her concerns came flooding back.
Alias pulled herself to a sitting position at the edge of the cot. Late morning sunlight burned through the single window of her small room. The rays glinted through a million tiny dust particles like a hot reminder of Nicia’s ominous proclamation. Alias knew this would be the day she faced Guido, the day she became homeless once again, on Caltania’s soiled streets.
With a resolute sigh, she pulled the dull-gray sleeping kirtle over her head, exchanging it for her black hose and a black thigh length tunic. She wrapped her leather belt around her waist—a thick strap that carried her tools, money, and a dagger. She pulled on her dark gray leather boots. But as she pulled on the right boot, she noticed something was wrong. The small hole present the previous night, now opened like a fisher, splitting wide across the ball of her foot.
“Great!” she grumbled, twisting her foot up and over her knee to inspect the hole. Running a finger through and feeling around the edges, she discovered it was much worse than she thought. The leather was paper thin, too thin to sew back together, at least with any hope that it might hold. She needed new boots, or at least a boot.
She doubted she could afford even that. The four krents she had left from last night’s work would not even cover her rent. And she knew Nicia would take them, no matter how she might beg. Not that Alias meant to beg. Certainly not to the likes of Nicia.
With that thought foremost on her mind, her priorities changed. She had to get out of The Orphanage, had to gain enough coin to pay for last night’s incursion and tonight’s expenses. And then she would need to replace her worn boots and perhaps her broken brush.
First, she had to sneak out without being seen. Nicia couldn’t know. Timo couldn’t know. No one could know. She stood and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she walked to the door, a supreme feeling of determination taking hold.
It was still early in the afternoon and Alias was certain Timo would be in bed. His room was right next to hers, but if she was careful, she could slip past. A window at the end of the hall opened into the alley behind the building. It was only a second story fall and Alias reasoned she could make the drop if she climbed out and hung from the sill. That way, she wouldn’t have to fall over four feet, and it would mitigate the amount of noise she made.
She opened the door and walked into the hall, looking back at her tiny apartment. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would ever see it again. Wondered if her next residence would be the backside of a crate stacked in an alley, an abandoned warehouse room, or the muddy wet underside of a dock. At length, and with a determined set to her jaw, she pulled the door shut behind her.
She turned and tiptoed her way toward the open window at the end of the hall, moving right past Timo’s door. Quiet as a mouse, she moved, carefully avoiding every loose and squeaky board, of which he knew all. One step, two, three. She was well past Timo’s door, the window in sight and just a few feet away when she thought she heard a rush of wind as Timo’s door opened behind her.
She froze, leaning close to the wall, and allowing the shadows to blend with the dark trappings of her cloak. She loved Timo, but she didn’t want to involve him. This was her fight. Something she had to do. And she meant to do it alone.
“Hey, wait up! Why the slumped shoulders?” Timo asked.
Alias groaned inwardly. Like a child sneaking out, she was caught. And there was no alibi that would suffice against any line of reasoning Timo might offer.
“Were you sneaking out?”
“Maybe.”
Silence. After what seemed like an eternity, Alias considered moving again, toward the window. She was about to take a step when Timo called out. “Well, if you’re going that way, don’t use the window. Nicia has the back watched.”
Alias hesitated, her eyes fixed on the not so distant window. The bottom sash stood half open, beckoning her into the night beyond, onto the street below. It was almost too easy; she thought. Was that window open before, or is this the first? Even as the thought crossed her mind, a breeze slid through, carrying with it the stench of an alley filled with refuse from The Orphanage.
That was definitely a smell foreign to this hallway. Had Nicia known? Had she left the window open on purpose, hoping Alias might try sneaking out this way? Alias straightened and stepped backwards.
“Wise choice,” Timo said. “Come inside for a minute. Let me finish getting dressed and we’ll find a way out together.”
Alias turned and nodded. When she saw Timo standing in the door, she fought back a surprised look. He wore just his black, waist length hose. Despite his narrow frame, ridges of chiseled muscle crossed his torso. The sight of him so exposed unnerved her, and she averted her eyes. It was only for a moment, though, for she couldn’t help being drawn back to Timo’s physique. Despite his age, and his slight build, he was very muscular, lean in the way street acrobats often were. The sight of him was pleasing, and after a moment, she realized she was staring. Timo didn’t notice or didn’t care. He even turned back to his room. When Alias hesitated, he stopped and gestured impatiently for her to follow. “Come on. Nicia will send someone looking before long. She’ll certainly find you standing in the hallway.”
Alias stepped into the small room behind him, feeling shame for her intrusion on his privacy. She had no choice. She pushed the door shut once they were both safely inside.
The room was roughly the same size as hers. But unlike hers, his was full of possessions. Timo had long ago gotten rid of the standard narrow cot, replacing it with a comfortable bed and padded mattress. There was a wardrobe where he kept his clothes, an overstuffed recliner—too big for the size of the room—and a medium-sized square trunk.
The trunk was made of aged ironwood, supported at its corners with blackened angle iron set to the woodbox with rows of steel rivets. Its lid was equally well constructed, half round, and folding from hidden hinges to latch securely with a large plain looking lock. The trunk was locked. She knew that from experience, for she had been in the room once before when curiosity got the better of her. She’d snuck in and tried to open it. Finding it latched, she searched the room for a key, but found none.
As she moved to the trunk and used it for a seat, she realized how well Timo lived. The comfortable bed, the overstuffed chair, the wardrobe with extra clothes. It stood in stark contrast to her own meager possessions.
Timo was good at his trade. Even with Guido’s heavy tax, he still had coin left for the things he enjoyed. And then there was the trunk. She ran her hand over the rough wooden sides and felt the stout iron trappings. What was in it? What values did Timo keep hidden there? How did he keep the trunk without Nicia or even Guido demanding to know what was in it?
She was about to ask him when Timo broke the silence. “I heard you getting dressed,” Timo explained, pulling on his dark gray tunic. “Did you drop something?”
“No,” Alias said, shifting uncomfortably on the trunk. She’d been looking too closely at the iron trappings surrounding it when she realized Timo was looking at her. For a moment, she thought he might call her out. She stopped running her hand over the box and brought both in front of her, crossing her legs, and clasping her hands innocently before her.
Timo grinned and fastened his utility belt around his waist. “You dropped something.”
Alias’s cheeks burned red. She tried to be quiet that morning. She thought she had been successful until Timo found her in the hallway, presumably by chance. Now he claimed to have heard her, and she didn’t want him to think she might sneak out on him as well. “My brush,” she said with inspiration. “It broke, and I dropped it.”
Timo grinned. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“That tangled mat of hair,” Timo said, a thoughtful look causing him to purse his lips. “Well, maybe we can get you a new one today.”
“I doubt it,” Alias said under her breath, thinking of how few coins she owned. Coins she couldn’t spare for something as frivolous as a brush. Her fingers would have to do, she thought, running them through her thick black hair and pulling out most of the knots.
Timo pulled his cloak around his shoulders and led her through the door. “Let’s go to the Halfway Inn for lunch this morning.”
“What about Nicia?” Alias asked, looking nervously into the hallway, first in one direction, then in the other.
“She’s in her office this morning.”
“Who’s in the foyer?”
“Vito.”
“And the back door?”
“Sergio,” Timo said, rolling his eyes in frustration. “Are you quite done yet?”
“No,” Alias said, still hesitating to step into the hallway, fearing Nicia would come for her. “How is it you know all of this when it appears you haven’t even been out of your room yet?”
Timo shrugged as if the answer were not important. He tapped his ear with his index finger. “I used my ears.”
Alias, still standing in the doorway, rolled her eyes in disbelief. Then another thought occurred to her. All the exits were blocked!
“How am I supposed to get out without being seen?”
Timo winked and took her hand, pulling her into the hallway. “Have a little faith,” he said.
“Timo!” Alisa exclaimed, balking and pulling her way free of his grasp. “I can’t be caught.”
“You won’t be,” he said, smiling and offering his hand once more. “When we get to Nicia’s office, I will step into the doorway and block her view of the hall, and you will simply sneak right on by.”
Hesitantly, Alias took Timo’s hand, her nerves rumbling in her belly as she considered the daring move. “But won’t she know you are hiding something?”
“You’ll be out the door before she knows,” he said. Then he looked at her. “And try to be a little more quiet when you sneak past. At least quieter than you were this morning. Nicia has good ears. Almost as good as mine.”
Down the stairs they went, turning right at the bottom and making their way up the broad hallway leading to the front of The Orphanage. A long red rug, trimmed in gold lace, stretched from one end of the hall to the main door, a double swinging affair with enormous glass windows set in each. To the right was a small entryway table, with a glass water picture and a few copper cups. To the left, a bookcase, and beyond the bookcase, the door to Nicia’s office.
Timo slowed as they neared the door, gesturing for her to hang back. When she took the bait, he took three quick steps forward and swung into the doorway, his cloak billowing wide as he did so. “Good afternoon Nicia? Have you seen Alias?”
Alias took the cue and used the billowing cloak to further hide her movement. She darted past the office door, out the main door, and onto the narrow walkway. She quickly turned right, not wanting to walk past Nicia’s office window, which looked conveniently onto the street.
“She’s not in her room?” Alias heard Nicia say as she scooted past Timo. She heard the skitter of chair legs on the wooden floor as Nicia stood. That sound only hastened her step.
“I didn’t go in. But she didn’t answer when I knocked,” Timo said.
“Thorian’s hairy ass,” Nicia exclaimed, her soft soled boots making an extraordinary sound as she marched across the room, shoving Timo aside. “Sergio! Vito! Get in here. Search Alias’s room”
Alias heard the orders from just outside, where she hesitated to await Timo. She didn’t have to wait long, for Timo dashed through the door right after. He took her hand and led her quickly across the street, guiding her into a thick crowd of merchants heading for The Tankard, across the way. “We’d better hurry and get out of sight.”
Alias glanced over her shoulder at the receding square building. The Orphanage. Then turned to keep pace with Timo. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Guido might be in there right now.”
The Tankard was the mob boss’s preferred drinking establishment. When he was not in his office, or extorting protection taxes from the businesses in his territory, he could usually be found there, drinking Green Dragon beer.
The words only escaped her lips when Timo veered left. He hurried to keep pace with the merchants, using them to shield against anyone looking their way from The Orphanage. “No. I was thinking of something a little nicer, and perhaps on neutral ground.”
Alias’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t thought of going there, especially with so little coin in her purse. “The halfway inn?” she said, her shoulders slumping as soon as she named one of the nicest inns within the city. It sat just inside the south gates and directly across from the gates to St. Marie Cathedral. It was on neutral ground, and frequented by priests, Sentinels from the tower, and soldiers alike. The mob bosses, even if they found her there, were not likely to start trouble.
That was fine, but the fact remained, she hadn’t enough coin for such extravagant tastes. Timo noted her dejected look and shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m buying.”
***
A half hour later, Alias and Timo sat at a table near the back of the Halfway Inn’s main serving area. Daylight streamed through the large windows in the front, leaving the back in a blanket of shadow. It was the way Alias liked it. And even better, they arrived between the lunch crowd and the dinner crowd. There were only a half dozen other people spread out over three tables.
“You have spoken little,” Timo said around a mouthful of ham steak.
Alias shrugged and glanced around the room once more. Despite being free of The Orphanage, she couldn’t help but feel trapped. Nicia was searching for her somewhere. Perhaps even half the guild was searching for her.
“I know about what happened,” Timo said.
Alias smiled weakly. “I figured you did.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Alias gave a non-committal shrug.
Timo replied, “I think it would be a good idea.”
Alias nodded solemnly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is all I’ve ever known. Where will I go? How will I survive?”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time. Ok? Nothing has been decided yet. And for all we know, Guido might determine that you deserve a second chance. You want to tell me what happened last night?”
Alias gave him a surprised look. “You don’t already know?”
Timo shrugged. “I only know that you didn’t check in with Nicia after your shift last night.”
Alias nodded, content with the answer. She launched into her story about Marcello and how he had monopolized her time. Timo commented it didn’t help that she overslept during her afternoon nap, giving her a late beginning. Alias let the comment slip by, focusing on her telling of the events.
When she finished, Timo blew a low whistle. “Wow, when you decide to mess up, you really mess up. I don’t think anyone has ever brought in less than twenty coins, not to mention only four.”
“It’s not funny,” Alias retorted emphatically, leveling a pleading stare at her mentor. “I’m not even close to the twenty she told me to bring.”
Timo leaned back, enjoying the moment with a broad grin. Then he leaned forward, saying, “I suppose it’s not. For starters, you’re going to have to get a new pair of boots.”
Alias stared at him in gape mouthed surprise, the smile completely vanishing from her lips. “How’d you know?”
Timo grinned. “You were walking on the outside edge of your foot when we crossed the street. I’m guessing you have a hole near the great toe on the inside seam of your right boot.”
Alias shook her head in disbelief. And Timo assumed he was wrong. He crawled beneath the table to inspect her boot. Alias laughed, extracting her companion. Her cheeks flushed when she noticed the other patrons watching them with uncertain expressions.
“Sorry,” she said. That seemed to be sufficient. Everyone turned back to their own plates.
Timo lifted her right foot and poked his finger through the hole, lightly grazing it across her instep. Alias retracted the foot instantly. “Stop that! It tickles!”
Timo shrugged and stood up. He dropped enough coins on the table to cover both their breakfasts and then grabbed Alias by the hand. He dragged her to her feet and said, “Come on. Let’s go get you a new pair of boots.” And as they retreated to the door, he looked back at her still tangled hair. “And perhaps a new brush.”
Day time on Caltania’s streets was as uniquely festive as the nights were dangerous. Merchants set up carts of goods at every street corner. There were clothing stands, textile goods, housewares, and perishables. And at least every street had a half dozen food stands selling spiced meats, breads, and other baked goods. Street entertainers ran amuck. They wore colorful costumes and bright hose while juggling or performing acrobatics. Others played various instruments.
The merchant square, just inside the city’s east gate, was the premier shopping location. The vendors there held the highest volume of goods, the best prices, and the greatest variety. In short order, Timo found the vendor he was looking for. A short, round-faced man with a receding hairline. His cart was overflowing with small mirrors, trinkets, and jewelry. An assortment of brushes were on display at one end of his counter. The man himself sat beside his cart, whittling the ivory handle of a brush in the shape of a whale’s tale. He looked up as they approached and smiled. “I can carve anything you like into them. I can even carve one in your own likeness if you wish.”
“How much?” Timo asked.
“One krent for the plain wood, and three for the ivory handled ones. Add five krents per carving.”
Alias frowned as she studied the brushes. She didn’t have a single coin to her name. Nicia took all she owned, and so after a moment, she looked at Timo and shrugged. “I don’t have any coin. I’ll have to come back later. But thankyou for bringing me here.”
Timo shrugged, fished three krents out of his money pouch and gestured to the table. “I always find Ivory to be more durable,” he said, giving her a wink.
“Timo!” Alias exclaimed. “You already bought me lunch. I can get by without a brush for a day or so. I can buy my own.”
Timo handed his coins to the smiling shopkeeper. “Pick out one you like. It’s already paid for.”
Hesitantly, Alias picked out one of the plain ivory handled brushes. It was gleaming white, and smooth to the touch. It fit her hand well, and she nervously stowed it away in her belt pouch.
“Alright,” Timo said, taking her by the hand and leading her along. “Let’s go find you a new pair of boots.”
Alias’s heart pounded when Timo took her hand. It was something he rarely did, and yet today he did it every time they went somewhere. She liked it. Now he was taking her to buy new boots, and somehow that set off a mixture of emotions. He’d already bought her lunch and a new brush. He needn’t buy her more things.
“Timo. You can’t! You’ve already spent enough.”
“Unless you are planning on stealing over forty coins tonight to make up for last night and tonight, plus buy boots, then it seems I must.”
“I can buy my own boots, you know?”
Timo flashed her a mischievous grin. “Not right now, you can’t. And besides, you are going to be needing them soon enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Timo wouldn’t answer, however, and he simply pulled her along faster. They turned right at the end of the street and then left onto the next street, finding Merlo’s at the end. Merlo Genson was a cobbler of some renown in Caltania
, having fashioned boots for many of the upper crust, and for much of the lower crust as well. His claims were that he couldn’t honestly support one type of customer without the other. Whatever that meant.
Alias let Timo lead her inside. She listened with some confusion as Timo instructed Merlo on what he wanted to purchase. “High laced like the ones she’s wearing,” he said. “But I want soles that will last, perhaps months, in the open and on the road.”
Merlo ran a hand through his sparse white hair and leaned over the counter to inspect Alias’s boots. He nodded. “I think I have what you’re looking for. Made them a while back for a traveler who never came back to get them. Give me a minute and we’ll see if they fit,” he said, disappearing into the back room.
“Timo,” Alias whispered, pulling at his sleeve. “That sounds expensive. I don’t need that kind of quality. We aren’t leaving the city.”
But Timo wouldn’t answer, and Merlo returned too abruptly for her to object again. He came around the counter and led her to a small stool, and all the time Alias kept looking to Timo for reassurance.
“Go ahead,” he said, giving her a nod as Merlo asked her to sit.
Merlo quickly unlaced her old boots and slid the new ones in place, checking their fit around the toes before lacing them to the knees. He leaned back, studying their fit as he stroked the grey stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “They look good. Stand up. Let’s have a closer look.”
Alias stood. The cushion afforded by the heavier soles surprised her. They were still supple, however, and she knew she could move silently if need be.
Merlo stood and shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve had those in the back for nearly a year now. You’re the first to come along that they fit. And I say, they fit perfectly.”
“How much?” Timo asked.
“Twenty-two krents,” Merlo said, still studying the boots on Alias’s feet and motioning for her to take a few steps. “They fit perfectly.”
“Timo!” Alias protested. She’d never spent over ten krents on a pair of boots. These were easily double, though they were double as nice. Still, she couldn’t afford them and she began unlacing them, which caused Merlo to cast a curious look between her and Timo.
“Master Timo,” he said with a note of surprise. “Does she not like my boots?”
That caused Alias to pause and look up, studying the exchange between them. “You two know each other?”
Timo shrugged and held his own foot up for her to see. “I have to buy boots too, you know.”
Alias deflated, seeing the truth in the statement. She had never frequented Merlo’s herself, having bought boots at a less popular shop, a more affordable shop from her perspective. Before she could protest further, Timo passed the coins to Merlo and asked him to get rid of the old boots.
Merlo, not wanting to miss a sale on a pair of boots he’d had for nearly a year, scooped up the old pair and dashed to the back room. Alias had no choice but to retie the laces on her new boots. “Who were they for?” Alias called after Merlo.
“A blond lady. Carly, I think her name was. But she never came back after I took the measurements.”
“Thank you Merlo,” Timo said, taking Alias by the hand and leading her to the door.
“My pleasure Master Timo. Will you be requiring boots soon yourself? I keep your pattern on file,” Merlo called from the back room.
“No. I still have a brand new pair in my wardrobe.”
“Patterns?” Alias asked as Timo led her out the door. Generally, when she went to her cobbler, he measured her feet every time. Then she had to wait a week while the boots were being made.
“Merlo keeps a series of patterns and measurements from a boot fit to a particular customer. You can order ahead of time and pick the boots up when you are ready for them.”
Alias glanced down at the new boots. She marveled at their perfect fit, and the comfort of the thicker sole. Then a curious thought crossed her mind, and she looked slyly at her mentor. “So you could take an old boot to Merlo and he could use it to construct a pattern?”
“Perhaps,” Timo replied thoughtfully.
Timo refused to say more about the boots. But she thought she knew. What she couldn’t understand was why he might have them made nearly a year in advance. She looked at him and wondered, what are you planning?
As if to answer her question, Timo said, “We’re taking the night off.”
“What?” Alias said, surprise forcing the word between her lips on the wind of a deep sigh. “I can’t take a night off. I owe you twenty-five krents, and Nicia thirty-six.”
As she said the words, totaling up the counts in her head, she realized how unlikely it would be for her to pay that amount back in such a short period. Unless she knocked over a money box in some proprietor’s shop-not entirely unheard of- there was no way she could come up with sixty-one krents in one night.
Without a word, Timo counted out thirty-six krents and handed him to her. “Go pay that to Nicia and get some rest tonight.”
“But I can’t pay you back for this,” Alias said, staring gape mouthed at the coins in her hand.
“Not yet, you can’t,” Timo said cryptically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, staring at him in surprise.
Timo frowned and waved the question aside. “Nothing. Forget it. You best go get some rest. And don’t forget to pay Nicia before you do.”
Alias hesitated. She’d been having a good time with Timo, and it felt like such an odd time to simply part ways. The afternoon was still young, and if they were taking the night off, she’d hoped they might find a tavern or an inn where they could listen to music. Or perhaps sneak into a show.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“I have a private matter to attend to,” he said, smiling and giving her arm a squeeze. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Alias stood there, dumbfounded in her new boots, watching him walk away. “Ok,” she mumbled as sadness filled her chest.
Timo paused after only a couple of strides and glanced back. For a moment, Alias thought he’d changed his mind. Then he said, “I think it’s time we consider your past. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”