The Veil - Chapter 23 Part 2

Mr. Surly was waiting for Dalki behind the house, a large bag on his shoulder. “You clothes,” he said as he handed the bag to her, “Keep the maid garb on, and no one will question you travelling behind the houses.” He was a shadow in the quickly fading light. She could no longer see the expressions on his face. Holding out the blow darts he had threatened her with at – could it really only be – earlier that day. “A gift. I’ll be sure to spread your name around the right circles.”

She took the bamboo numbly and said nothing but also failed to move until he turned away towards the house. She had hoped to see the princess one last time just to reassure herself that she had made the right decision by helping. They must have already spirited her away somewhere because Mr. Surly closed the back door without making any detours.

Straightening her shoulders, Dalki started walking through the backyards of the rich. She wondered at the lack of attention she was paid. Apparently, if one knew how to dress, an individual of any background could get around in the nice neighborhood.

As the houses got smaller and shabbier, she guarded her bag closer. Eshe had shown her the gold. She had enough to buy a new life for herself and… She had just run across the large intersection that was the unofficial boundary between the noble and the common when a shadow dropped beside her.

She drew back, her mouth opening to scream, her hand gripping the bamboo of the blow darts tightly though she wasn’t familiar enough with the weapon to use it.

A white face got close enough for her to see the pink eyes.

She relaxed and swore angrily, putting the power of her fear in cursing the boy in front of her. “Fels! That was uncalled for.” She started walking again, the albino grinning at her as he fell into step beside her. They moved faster than she had before. They were heading towards a desperate part of town and could waste no time dawdling. “Have you been following me all day?” she whispered, maneuvering her bag until she had dropped Mr. Surly’s gift into it, leaving her hand open to grip the dagger she had hidden within her dress.

Fels nodded. His white skin almost glowing in the newborn moonlight, he seemed a specter beside her.

Even when they had first come together, both captives of a slave caravan, children sold by or maybe stolen from desperate families, he had frightened those around him. He and Dalki had used the ruse of a ghost to con people before.

He stuck out like a sore thumb and seemed to draw attention at just the wrong moment, but he and Dalki were friends, literal partners in crime. She would die before she abandoned him.

The stars burned in the black velvet of night, and Dalki felt lighter than she had in months. She had picked up work with Mr. Condrieve out of desperation, but she had come to realize that it could be more dangerous to stay around all of those leering men than to face the chance of starvation. This was her chance. She could repay the loan she had borrowed from her employer when she thought she wouldn’t be able to make rent and still have money to maybe move up in the world, buy an apprenticeship in a seamstress’ shop or maybe an apprenticeship for Fels instead if they could find a master who wouldn’t call his skin and eyes bad omens.

They slid into the clockwork that was the slums at night with ease, Fels lifting the hood of his black cape to hide more of his odd coloring. Staying to the shadows, they avoided the light of lanterns hung on vendors’ carts as wares were announced. Girls, faces over-powdered in an attempt to be women, swished by, reeking of cheap perfume. Dalki’s stomach always clenched in fear and a guilty relief when she passed girls like that; fear that their present was her future and relief that she hadn’t had to stoop to such lows yet.

Gangs of children zigzagged down the narrow streets, screaming in play as they kept sharp eyes out for a victim naïve enough to trust youth to be innocent. The common people were out and about now, more comfortable in the night because of the relative cool and the dark.

Crowds made Dalki skittish. Fels on the other hand glanced around excitedly. He whispered under his breath the gibberish Dalki had grown to ignore as she had become accustomed. After years of helping each other survive, she still thought the boy very strange.

They turned down alleys, the number of people thinning until they were the only two. The buildings here were derelict, barely fit to live in. Dalki put up with drafts, the molds, the vermin, and the unsavory neighbors for the quiet nights and the (usually) affordable rent. No one worthwhile ventured into this area unless they had to, regardless of night or day.

Hurrying up the questionable stairs to their door, Dalki froze a moment after Fels did when a man came out of the shadows and into the moonlight to block the top of the stairwell.

Dalki went cold. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was of short stature, and a glance over her shoulder revealed a large man behind them. She knew who this was…

“I heard you got a little job on the side, sweetheart,” Mr. Condreive hissed, making his way down the stairs until he was two away from her. “Stole a client from me, you did. So much for loyalty, eh?” He licked his lips, wet tongue glinting in the sparse light. “What goodies did he give you in return?”

Beside her, Fels growled. She swore, sometimes, he was more like her attack dog than her human friend. The squealing steps let her know the man behind them was approaching though she didn’t know what she could do about that.

She considered screaming for a moment, but no one in this part of town would come to help. If anything, it would just draw other scum to finish off whatever Mr. Condreive decided to leave behind. She glanced over the wobbly sticks their landlady called a railing. The conniving bastard had let them come up far enough for a jump to be dangerous.

Returning her gaze squarely to Mr. Condreive, she did the last thing she could think of: she lied. “I just walked out. Got tired of cat calls and ugly looks. I don’t know what job you’re talking about.”

“Oh, honey,” he tutted softly. “I was playing this game before you were born.”

She flinched at Fels’ inhuman squeal and watched as he kicked out, his neck in the relentless grip of Mr. Condreive’s man. His toes brushed against the rotting boards as his fingers clawed at the man’s arm. She felt a familiar weakness. It was physical like the muscle she knew was there had snapped. Powerlessness.

“Now, let’s start over, shall we?” Mr. Condreive took another step down so that they were so close she could smell the sickly sweet scent of whatever leaves he smoked. “What did the lord pay you?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off of Fels. He was still fighting, saliva flying, eyes bulging. She could see veins on his forehead. She took the purse out of her bag and hurled it at Mr. Condreive bitterly. “He has nothing to do with any of this,” she snapped and paled when the man didn’t let her friend go. “He gave me nothing else.” She turned her eyes, pleading on Mr. Condreive who was staring greedily into the purse.

“Let me see the bag,” he ordered, holding out a bony hand that was proportionally too large for his size.

She gave in, watched him rifle through the bag, tossing her dress on the floor, then the bamboo stick, and finally the empty bag.

He leaned forward, and she felt desperation claw at her lungs, take from them any capacity to hold air. “Now, tell me who this mysterious employer was.”

Fels choked by her side, barely moving anymore other than a random spirited kick just when she had thought he had given up. She opened her mouth, licked her lips. Ihyana’s big eyes flashed where Mr. Condreive’s greedy ones were, and she heard Eshe’s parting words: I’m making sure the girl is safe. “Mr. Condreive,” she sneered, “I do a job. I don’t ask questions. I called him lord. I did what he told me to do. I took his money.”

The silence between us was palpable. I could feel it in my abdomen, right beneath my ribs. His eyes flickered over my face, and he must have seen truth because he straightened, slipping the purse into his jacket. “And what did you have to do?”

She shrugged. “You were almost right. Guy didn’t want to pay for some slave girls to rape, so he steal a few for him.” The lie came of smooth. Dalki let her eyes drift over his face.

He folded his arms. “I did not realize you were such a master thief.”

“I am what the job needs,” she murmured, “Are we done here?”

Waving at his man, he stepped around Dalki and over Fels who had dropped like he was made of stone. He hesitated and said without looking back. “Don’t come to work tomorrow, darling. I don’t have time to worry about employees double timing me.” He patted the place where she was sure the coin purse now rested. “I’ll consider this payment for your loan. I’m being generous.”

Dalki watched them go, gritting her teeth, until they had crossed the street and melted into the dark. Fels finally clambered up by himself. They stood still and silent for a long time, recognizing each other’s rage and comforting each other in it.

Finally she turned away with a disgusted sigh that was too old and too tired for her age. “Come on, Fels. Let’s get some sleep.”