“Fresh pies, who will buy my fresh pies?”

The call of the pieman touting his wares woke Sylud from his repose. He rose from

his sleeping pallet, being careful not to wake the girl who was still sleeping. As he

drew on his leggings and tunic he looked at her as she lay asleep. Her name was Asta

or Astrid, he couldn’t remember exactly. She was a country lass from somewhere

further up the Thard, if her accent was anything to go by. She was newly arrived in

Coranan and Sylud had found her near Impaler’s Gate, cold hungry and afraid. It

hadn’t been hard to talk her into coming with him, after all, he was about her age,

maybe a year or two older, had a friendly smile and trustworthy face. She was well

formed and Sylud knew that he would get a bonus from Serelyn at The House of the

Eternal Moment if she took the girl in. Not the easiest life being a working girl, but at

least at the brothel she would get a roof and decent food, and the chance to earn a

decent living. In his heart, Sylud knew that he had helped her because three years

before he had been in a similar position. Newly arrived and lonely. At that time his

home in Idum seemed so far away…..

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sylud sat under the tree watching the company of legionnaires as they tramped

southward on the Coranan road. He often sat and dreamed about what lay at the far

end of that highway. It wasn’t so much that he hated Idum, but more that he felt that

there was more to life than watching the back end of Master Gaeleth’s ox as he

plowed his fields. He knew that his father wouldn’t stand in his way now that he had

decided to leave home. His father owed few obligations to his patron and Sylud’s

absence would mean that his younger sister and brother would have a greater share of

their meager food supplies.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

His father had patted his head and given him a stout knife and a good supply of food

for the road. Little Esora cried and Sylud had promised that one day when he had

made his fortune he would come back and take her away to his big house. His

father’s last words were “Take care in Coranan son. Tis a wicked large city”. A

wave and a last glimpse of his home and he ran across the fields to Idum where the

merchant he had met had promised to let him travel with him as far as Coranan in

return for protection and labour. Sylud was thirteen years old and off to seek his

fortune.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The walls of Coranan were bigger than anything Sylud had ever seen. The villages

surrounding the town were ten times the size of Idum and the young lad had never

seen so many people. His first attempt to get into the city was refused as he didn’t

have the toll. The gruff gate guards in their bright scale armour had told him none too

politely to “fuck off”. He spent hours wandering around the city trying to find either

a job or a way in. Everywhere he was rebuffed and gloomily he realized that he was

to spend a night in the open, unless he could soon find shelter. It looked like it was

going to rain as well. Late in the day he found himself in a village near the banks of

the Thard. There, as he ate the last of the cheese he had brought with him from Idum

and wondered what exactly he was going to do now, he was approached by a grizzled

seaman. This worthy had told him that if he was looking for a spot of work he could

ask amongst the river barge masters in the local seaman’s guild hostel.

He had managed to impress a barge master with his cheerful confidence and winning

smile, and found himself signed on as a barge-hand on a river barge that was making

it’s way down the Thard to Gerium. The trip there and back took a week. It was the

best week of young Sylud’s life. He quickly took to the various chores and jobs

required on the barge and won the respect of the master and the experienced

bargemen. When he disembarked once again at Coranan he was richer by two and a

half pennies, more than enough to get into the city and to seek a position.

“If you want to work my barge again, come and see me any time”, the master had

said. Cheerfully thanking the man, Sylud walked up to the gate guard, paid his toll

and entered Coranan.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He had wandered in a state of awe around the city for hours. Castles, palaces and

temples and other building whose purpose he couldn’t fathom rose up into the sky.

The smoke from a thousand fires drifted lazily skyward and the air was thick with

strange smells. He had approached a number of shops and inns, seeking employment

but was , as often as not, chased out by an angry master or journeyman.

After buying a loaf of bread for his dinner, he ruefully fingered his last two

ha’pennies. He wondered exactly how he was going to eat tomorrow, or the day after

for that matter. Where he was going to sleep did not bear thinking about.

“Hey, Country-boy! Lost or what?” Sylud was accosted by a lad about his own age,

perhaps a year older. “You need somewheres to sleep? Wots yer name then?”

“I’m called Sylud. I got ‘ere this mornin’ and I do need somewhere to sleep. An’

whose askin?”

“I’m called Willem, Willem Four Feet. Come with me an’ I’ll show you where you

can bed yourself down”

The lad seemed friendly, in fact the first friendly person that Sylud had met since he

entered the city. They walked through main thoroughfares and then through a

succession of side streets and alleys that soon had Sylud completely lost. As they

walked they talked and Willem told Sylud about his friends. As they entered one

alley, Willem turned and said “Listen country-boy, you wanna hang with me and my

boys, you hafta prove yerself.”

“What do I hafta do then Willem?” Sylud backed away, unsure as to what was

coming next.

“You hafta do nothin’, cepting show us yer got what it takes. Test ‘im Jorge.”

At that Sylud realized that they were not alone in the alley. He turned to see two

other boys. One was short and wiry, the other was huge and advanced on him with

one meaty fist raised to smash Sylud down. He dived under the blow and scrabbled

backwards. The larger boy was fast, despite his bulk and was on him in an instant.

Sylud somehow managed to duck two mighty swings and lashed out with his foot

which caught the bigger boy in the groin, doubling him over in pain and shock. Sylud

backed against a wall and glared at the lads around him.

“Whose next then? C’mon, I ain’t scared!”

Willem laughed and helped the boy called Jorge to his feet. “Now that don’t ‘appen

every day! Don’t go tellin’ no-one that Jorge got a kick in’t tackle from a bumpkin.

Here Sylud, yers alright. We was jus’ testin’ ya. Come with me an’ I’ll show ya that

bed.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Now watch Slippery Jim an’ see’s how he dips that mark. See! Got t’purse and

look ‘ow he passes it t’Jorge. An’ here comes Jorge, who’ll pas it t’me. There we

go! Now you can try. Look fer ya mark, there, that fat one, e’s yers. ‘An Sylud,

don’t be gettin’ caught or t’Crushers will have yer lights out.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Peoni bless you, Sylud. Look children what Sylud’s dun brought us today?” the

woman smiled up at Sylud and gathered her three children around to look into the

basket. “Ohhh, ‘alf a rabbit pie and some dumplings. You are an angel and will live

forever in Valon.”

“Ah, stop it Maedra. You know that Peoni won’t concern herself with t’likes of me. I

‘ad some spare pennies ‘an I know ‘ow much the youngun’s like them dumplings.”

Sylud left the family and made his way up the rickety stairs to the loft that he called

home. His garret was on the fourth floor of an old tenement building just off Libarn

Street. A year running with the Libarn Street Lads had been good to Sylud. He had a

room of his own, a decent stash of coins and good clothes. He wore black by

preference and a red scarf and cut a dashing figure, if he said so himself. The girls

liked his white hair and he was growing taller all the time. He also did what he could

for the poor in his building, like getting the widow Maedra extra food for her children

and helping the older residents with their rent. For this he was generally well liked.

The Libarn Street Lads were one gang of many that operated inside Coranan under the

overall protection of the Lia-Kavair. All Sylud knew of the Lia Kavair was that

Willem handed over a portion of all their takings to a contact who came by once a

week. Mostly they were left to their own devices, but on occasion they had to do a

particular job on orders from above. The Libarn Street Lads had a recognized

territory that included the market square and a few streets surrounding it. Sylud was

firm friends with Willem Four Feet, so named because he could run as fast as a horse.

Big Jorge was named for his size and weight, both of which were prodigious for a boy

of fifteen or so years. Little Slippery Jim was a weasel-faced lad who could, or so it

seemed, wriggle through any hole big enough to fit his head. In the past year Sylud

had learned how to pick pockets, cut purses, spot potential marks and more

importantly, how to avoid the crushers. Coranan had become his home and while the

streets weren’t paved in the gold he had thought would be there, it was certainly a

better life than staring at a cow’s arse all day.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“T’ Boss says that the stuff will be arrivin’ in a day or two at most. We ‘ave t’get over

to Kuseme an’ lift it ‘an git oursels back ‘ere.”

“’Ow we s’pposed t’git across the Thard without bein’ stopped by t’crushers?” Sylud

asked.

“Well, that’s where you come in, Sylud. ‘Member you said you knew ‘ow t’sail a

ship. T’Boss ‘as got us a boat to get across to Kuseme”

“I did a barge trip, ‘an that was near two years ago“ Sylud protested, “I mostly

fetch’d food and drinks fer the crew.”

“Now don’t be tellin’ lies. I was done tellin’ t’boss you were Sylud the Sailor.”

Willem clapped Sylud on the shoulder.

“Thanks a lot, ol’ friend. ‘Preciate it”, Sylud said with little grace, “so lets plan this. I

s’ppose the Kuseme Lia Kavair ain’t knowin’ anythin’ bout this trip?”

“That’s right. T’Boss said they’s would be right pissed off, no error. ‘Nother reason

not t’git caught,” laughed Willem.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Wot ‘appened back there?” Big Jorge asked as he helped row the small boat back

across the Thard to Coranan.

“Everthin’ was going t’plan til Slippery Jim got nabbed while I was distractin’ the

‘pothecary. I wasn’t sure wot t’do so pulled me knife and threaten’d t’old geezer.

Jim grabbed th’ stuff and we ran. Got chased an’ all, with people cryin’ and

screaming’ blue murder. Anyone would think I shivved the ol’ fart”. Sylud was

secretly glad that he hadn’t as the apothecary had been a nice enough old codger.

“Well, we’se got away an’ t’Boss’ll give us a good bonus. Jus’ ave to keep yer head

down fer awhile. That white ‘air of yers’ll git you into trouble if’n you go back to

Kuseme any time soon” said Willem.

“Yeah well I ain’t cuttin’ it off fer no-one. ‘Sides, you know the girls love it.”

“Git your mind of’n the lasses an’ watch where you be rowing this tub, Sylud. We’s

goin’ t’end up in Rethem at this rate. Thought you said youse was a sailor?”

“Fuck you Willem” said Sylud and they all laughed.

Next Story.

Written By: Brian Smaller (a.k.a Sylud of Maladon)