associations and connections between the various unsavoury patrons he had selected as likely contacts and listening intently to any snippets of conversation he could catch.
Soon, however, he came to realise that someone such as he stood out in these establishments, and not because he was small or young; given the state of M’Dahz these days there were many waifs and strays that made their way here looking for work or a handout. No, what made him stand out was the way he always sat on his own, never drank and was seen to be paying too close attention to things that did not concern him.
The issue had become clear to him after he was dragged from one bar and beaten repeatedly in an alleyway. He had not returned to that establishment, turning his attention to alternative locations. And in what he thought of as ‘phase two’, several weeks after Ghassan had left, he began to throw himself into the part, learning some of the games that went on in the gaming pits and trying several of the drinks on offer until he discovered what was palatable and what was not. And, as he had gradually become accustomed to the drink and the games, and experienced a little success in the gambling dens, he had finally begun to fit in. Two months into his new life, he had at last reached the point where people paid no attention when he entered or left a bar.
Soon he found he was being offered work by some of the other occupants; just small things to begin with; the running of an errand; delivery of parcels or messages. He began to carry his sword with him where he could and a sharp knife everywhere else. Gradually, he became indistinguishable from those other young men who performed small tasks for the underworld of the district.
But what had begun as an attempt to ingratiate himself into the habitat of the criminal classes had quickly grown beyond his control. As the weeks passed, Samir found that he was so busy running dubious errands, making money and maintaining his persona as a small time crook that he had no time to apply what he was learning to any of his grand plans for the future of the town. There was simply not enough time to try nudging these people toward his goal: guerrilla activity against the Pelasian masters.
And yet, with this new life came a certain respect, albeit from the lowest orders of the town. And money and influence, of course. Only two months down the line, Samir had already reached such a stage in his career where he now had three boys running errands for him; he had unquestioned access to most places in the port district and the ear of some of the most dangerous men in the town.
What came along with this as baggage was the carousing. The late nights, gambling and drinking were changing his habits and he had become more or less nocturnal, having to allow at least two hours of an afternoon to clean himself up and let the thumping hangover fade before looking to his daily tasks. He had sought to infiltrate the criminal classes in M’Dahz. Half a year later, however, he had become the criminal class of the town. Ghassan would never have recognised his brother now.
And yet, with all his late night forays and sessions, last evening was unquestionably the worst he had yet suffered. He couldn’t even remember leaving the last place. There had been a fight over a purse of coins. He remembered that and felt his upper lip, wincing as he found the bloody cut and the missing tooth. That explained some of the throbbing. Even wincing made his head hurt. His entire body ached as though he had been attacked with branches, which was distinctly possible given the events of the night that he could remember and the length of time as yet unaccounted for. He tried to smile to himself, but the pain this brought in his gums, lip and head made a smile beyond hope.
He was obviously still somewhere close to the port from the briny smell. At least the gulls were being silent, which was a blessing. The usual morning squawking of a thousand gulls might just have killed him this morning.
Samir shuddered and, very slowly and with great care, pried open his eyes, trying to ignore the fresh waves of pain and nausea that light and colour brought with them.
“He’s awake.”
Samir blinked. A face several feet away from him grinned a malicious grin, showing several missing teeth. The pain in his mouth, face, head and screaming muscles forgotten in an instant, Samir’s reactions took over. Scrambling from his side onto all fours, he backed away and felt himself bump into a wooden structure. What in the name of the great mother was going on?
His eyes became accustomed to the low light, and he focused on the face before him as the other figure came up from floor level into a crouch. The lad was younger than him, though probably bigger regardless. He had clearly seen the losing side of several fights by the marks and old wounds evident on his face and arms. He wore a cloth wrapped around his forehead and a leather waistcoat that allowed him to display the several gold chains hanging round his neck and the bronze armlets and bracers he wore.
“Who are you?”
The boy ignored him and grinned again.
“Awake and conscious.”
“Good” replied a voice from the shadows behind the boy. Samir squinted and tried to make out the shapes in the shadows. There were more than one. Perhaps a dozen people.
“Who are you and where am I?”
There was a chorus of laughter.
“This is not as funny as you think” Samir barked. “I’m an important man. There are some very dangerous people who will miss me and be extremely unhappy with you.”
The laugher moved up a notch and for the first time in many months Samir’s confidence foundered. He licked his lips nervously and winced as his tongue touched the fresh cut.
Slowly, the other figures moved forward out of the shadows. In other circumstances, Samir might have laughed, they were such an assorted bunch. He had once seen a carnival when the great religious festival had been celebrated to mark the millennium of Imperial foundation. His father had called it the ‘freak show’ and this reminded him so closely of it that he found it impossible to avoid smiling. Tall, fat, short, thin; some missing limbs, some with one eye, some with misshapen body parts. Not a one of them older than fifteen at a guess.
Samir sighed.
“I am tired and hung over. I have a lot to do and no time to play. If you intend to rob me, do so now. I have nothing on me of value, barring a few coins left over from the evening. If you’re just wanting to pick on me, then let’s get this over with so I can get to my work.
The laughter from the second boy who had spoken was deep and rich and disturbed Samir further. There was something about this he didn’t like at all. He had dealt with bullies many times. This was somehow different. This other speaker was clearly the leader. Older than most and taller than all, he was bulky and lighter skinned than the rest, almost like the foreign merchants from the north. One side of his face had been tattooed with intricate designs and whorls. Something about the boy suggested he was not one to be taken lightly.
“Show him, Afad” the leader said without taking his eyes from Samir.
Samir kept this tall boy in his sight while trying to follow the movements of the one who had watched him awake. This ‘Afad’ made his way across to a wall in the shadows. There was a bang and a creak and suddenly a square hatchway opened in the wooden wall. Light poured in, illuminating the face of the smiling boy and picking out sharply the shape of the others.
Samir shrugged.
“So? You’re all very pretty, I’m sure.”
The leader laughed.
“You misunderstand. Go and look.”
Trying hard to keep his eyes on the rest of them, Samir, backed away along the ribbed wooden structure behind him, toward that small square of white light and the grinning boy next to it. As he approached, he made motions for the other to move away and, with a shrug, Afad shuffled back toward his companions.
Samir closed on the light, feeling around his belt as he did so. No surprise there. His knife had gone, as had his purse.
And then he reached the hole and, quickly, so as not to grant too much opportunity to the potential attackers, he peered through the hole.
As his world shattered and the shards fled from him, the gathered children in the dark almost entirely forgotten, Samir blinked at the foamy water and the wake flowing past the wooden hull.
“Shit!”
Once again a chorus of uproarious laughter burst out in the shadows.
“Shit!”
