Chapter 20. Ol’ Pete

  “Poor lad. You’re new to town, I take it?” The man was well-dressed in a tailored suit. A gold brooch of a cluster of grapes was pinned to his lapel, tiny amethysts that managed to sparkle even in their dull surroundings. The man smiled down at Jeremiah.

  “Help,” Jeremiah whimpered, holding up his mangled hand. “I need help.”

  The man sniffed the air. “Come in from Otto's, did you? Fine way to enter the city, fine indeed. Not for the faint of heart. Any luck finding work, lad?” The man ignored the bloody hand like he couldn’t even see it.

  “Work? Yes. No.” Jeremiah was starting to feel disoriented. “Look, sir, I know you don’t know me. But I really need some help.”

  “Tragic that, tragic,” said the man, shaking his head. “Hands come cheap in Elminia, yes they do.” The river of sick and blood continued to pool around the man’s shoes, but it seemed to bother him no more than the light mist from above. “Might need your name first, lad.”

  “Jay from Shabad,” said Jeremiah. Despite his condition, the words sprang easily to mind. His story had been drilled into him relentlessly.

  “Well, Jay from Shabad, I don’t suppose you have any money to pay for the kind of help you need?”

  “No, I just got robbed. But I’m good for it! I can get money, I can—”

  “Perish the thought! Ol’ Pete doesn’t deal in loans.” Ol’ Pete crouched down next to Jeremiah, stepping fully into the lake of fluids at his feet. “How about you just owe me a favor, hmm?”

  An alarm bell sounded in Jeremiah’s head. That sounded dangerous. Exceptionally dangerous. But what choice did he have? His whole body was throbbing in pain, and he was starting to shiver in the rain. He didn’t need Delilah to tell him he risked illness or infection if he stayed on the streets tonight.

  “Sure,” said Jeremiah, “I’ll owe you a favor, that’s okay. Just help, please help.”

  Pete beamed him a smile that was all teeth. “Of course! No trouble, Jay, no trouble at all. Clearly Elminia has given you quite the reception, as she's wont to do. Come with me, right this way.”

  Pete patiently waited for Jeremiah to stand on legs that quivered like a newborn foal’s.

  “Splendid,” said Pete, retaining the smile. He put a supportive hand on Jeremiah’s elbow and guided him out into the dark human rivers of Elminia. Pete navigated them with practiced ease, even with Jeremiah in tow. No curse or spit fell upon them, no shouts or shove slowed their travel. Jeremiah could have sworn he saw people actively avoid looking at them.

  They crossed into a quieter street, one of those pockets of wealth with slightly nicer, less askew townhouses. “Here we are,” said Pete. He led Jay through the tiny wooden gate barricading the property from the street and rapped on the door.

  “Wait, don’t you live here?” asked Jeremiah. “Why are you knocking?”

  The door opened to a bespectacled halfling man with a pleasant smile.“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, “what can I…Oh, Pete.” The color drained from his face and he retreated back inside.

  “Evening, Skiva,” said Pete, pulling Jeremiah into the home uninvited. The door clicked shut against the torment of the streets, and Jeremiah found himself in the foyer of a home that promised warmth, safety, and comfort. He felt horribly out of place.

  “Hun? who is it?” a lightly feminine voice asked from further inside. A halfling woman in a crisp apron and bonnet peeked around a corner. There was a crack of falling pottery as she laid eyes on Pete.

  “Patricia,” said Pete in greeting.

  “You know Pete?” hissed Skiva at his wife.

  “You know Pete?” Patricia countered.

  “Choices, choices,” said Pete, looking between them. “Skiva, I'm afraid the day has come. I'll be needing use of your home for a time.”

  “For…for how long?” asked Skiva. His eyes went to Jeremiah, and Jeremiah could read a litany of fears behind them.

  Patricia came out into the entry and clasped hands with Skiva.

  “Just for tonight,” said Pete.

  There was a skittering of feet, and a pair of young halfling girls scampered into the room to investigate the new voice in their home. They skidded to a stop at the sight of Jeremiah and hid behind their parents.

  “Hello Lucille, Lyra.” said Pete. Skiva and Patricia gripped their children closer.

  “Uh, I have a surprise, girls! We'll be staying in an inn tonight.” said Skiva.

  The children’s shyness was banished and they erupted in excited energy. “A real inn? With adventurers and mead and…”

  “Ski, where exactly are we supposed to go? Are we just going from inn to inn asking for rooms?” said Patricia, locking down one child while the other wriggled free.

  “Perish the thought!” Pete waved a hand. “Head to The Drunken Gull and tell Alexander you need a room on behalf of Ol’ Pete.”

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  Skiva and his wife looked anxiously at each other.

  “Worry not,” said Pete, “no favor owed. This one is on me. But I do need you to make your way, quickly now.”

  “Alright kids, grab your things,” said Patricia, hurrying them along. In only a few hurried minutes the family departed, tempestuous tykes in tow.

  Pete turned towards Jeremiah with a wide smile. “Alright, my boy, let’s take care of that hand before you bleed all over this lovely home.” He led Jeremiah to the kitchen, where the furniture was miniaturized and the dishes were half-finished, and inspected the wound in the light.

  Jeremiah winced as Pete dabbed his hand with a damp cloth. The older man fished in his vest and produced a length of thin wire and a hooked needle. “Wait, what are you—ARUGHHH!” Jeremiah screamed as Pete squeezed the flesh around the wound together. He tried to wrench his hand away, but Pete’s grip was like iron.

  “Keep still boy, keep still,” murmured Pete. Once Jeremiah stopped struggling, Pete pierced the skin with a hook and began threading the wire through over and over again, stitching the wound shut while Jeremiah bit into his other hand. “There we are,” said he with a smile, “that’ll keep the red bits on the inside, won’t it? Now, why don’t we scare you up a spot of dinner.”

  ?

  The pantry, it so happened, contained cheese, bread, apples, and biscuits. Jeremiah quickly overcame any misgivings about eating the halfling family’s food, and fell upon it with gusto. Pete didn’t eat or speak, merely waited patiently on as Jeremiah devoured the offerings.

  It was the most satisfying meal he had had in weeks. The food sat warm in his belly, and despite the horrific events of the evening and the pain persisting all over his body, Jeremiah felt at peace. Everything was going to be alright.

  He was wondering if it would be stretching the hospitality of his host to return to the pantry for another round when Pete spoke. "My good lad. Jay. I truly am sorry for what happened to you.” Pete’s face was etched with sympathy. “You were accosted by men of ill repute, who took advantage of your isolation. Nobody deserves the cruelties visited upon you, poor boy.”

  The kind words nourished Jeremiah nearly as much as the food and warmth. How fortunate he was to have met this man! Who would have thought such a wretched city could deliver him such a benevolent savior as Ol’ Pete.

  No sooner had he thought it than an alarm bell sounded in his head. Bruno’s voice came to him. “ If it seems too good to be true, it definitely is. ” Jeremiah blinked. How did Pete know what had happened to him?

  “Tell me lad, what brings you to Elminia, so unprepared and unconnected?” Pete folded his hands on the table and leaned toward Jeremiah. It was meant to show interest, but Jeremiah found himself compelled to lean away.

  “Got into some trouble in Shabad, sir,” said Jeremiah. “Ran with the wrong crowd, against my better judgment. Needed to take some space away."

  Pete nodded sagely. “Ah yes, plenty of opportunity for trouble in Shabad for a young lad. I’ve visited Shabad many a time, you know. Some of the finest fruit in the world grown in Shabad, don't you think?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “Yeah, I guess they’re fine."

  “I was always partial to the markets on the Road of Royals, myself,” continued Pete. “Tell me, Jay, did you have any favorites? Any recommendations for my next visit?”

  “Not really,” said Jeremiah. “There’s a lot of markets, and I haven’t tried them all. Besides, I’ve heard most of them are owned by one guy who has them all competing to sell the same things.” Which was actually true. Word was there was no bigger scam than becoming an independent merchant in Shabad.

  Pete chuckled. “But you must have visited the Road of Royals, yes?”

  “Of course, it’s the biggest market street in the city,” said Jeremiah. This was a lot easier than when Delilah was testing his cover story.

  “Jay, tell me of the troubles encountered. Perhaps its something ol’ Pete can help with! I’m known for my sympathetic ear, I am.”

  “Just made enemies of the wrong people. Better to get some distance for a while til things cool off,” said Jeremiah.

  Pete nodded again, nothing but kind understanding. “All too common a happening to a young man just trying to make his way. And what was your line of work in Shabad?”

  “You could say I was a specialist in discretion.” Jeremiah watched Pete’s face closely for a reaction, but the other man’s expression of sincerest sympathy did not so much as flicker.

  “I think you'll learn to like Elminia,” said Pete. “She has a wealth of opportunity for a young lad of your skills, if only you know where to look.” He gave Jeremiah another winning smile. “The right friends can make all the difference there. I was born here, you see, and while I admit she takes some getting used to, you need only learn how best to twist the fortune from her.”

  The odd turn of phrase caught Jeremiah’s ear. That’s what Pete was doing right now, to Jeremiah—prodding and testing, learning how to twist him to the exact shape needed. He had to be careful.

  Arranging his features to show what he hoped was the expected amount of gratitude, Jeremiah nodded. “Thanks for sharing some of your fortune with me. I can tell you’re a useful person to know around here.”

  Pete bowed his head with a humble smile, and Jeremiah knew he’d hit a point of genuine pride in the man. “I only do what I can to help those less fortunate than myself,” Pete said. “We all must help raise each other up here in Elminia, lest the city succumb to those ruled by baser urges.”

  Another odd phrase. Jeremiah didn’t think Elminia was about to succumb to Cutter and his gang. Could Pete be referring to the cult? He remembered what Bruno had reported, about something coming. Maybe he could do some twisting of his own. “Pete, does the city always feel like this?”

  “Mmm? To what do you refer, lad?” Pete raised a questioning eyebrow, but Jeremiah thought he saw recognition underneath. Maybe even fear.

  “People seem strange here. Like the whole city runs hot.”

  Pete smiled in that way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Elminia’s always been a place that rewards ambition, we’re quite well known for it.”

  “But this seems like more than that,” Jeremiah pressed. “It’s almost frantic, like…I don’t know, like an itch or something.” Did he know? He didn’t know where the wording had come from, but it felt accurate.

  Pete laughed, a little too loud and a little too long. “That will happen in the highest production city in the world, you know. You’ll get used to the hustle and bustle in time, I’m quite sure, especially with the help of a good night’s rest.”

  Abruptly, Pete shoved away from the table. He clasped Jeremiah’s good hand in both of his own. “A pleasure to meet you, Jay. I must depart to attend other business, but please make yourself quite comfortable, and I’m sure we will be in touch soon. Musn’t forget a favor owed, after all.”

  With a wink, Pete departed, leaving Jeremiah alone in a stranger’s home.