Dealings at Dusk

Aart’s eyes adjusted to the moonlight as he hauled himelf out of one of the grates in the side of the street. Replacing the grill he begun to stalk down the narrow side streets of the city. He was headed towards an Inn that was close by with a hand written note from one of the thief bosses. Aart had of course already read it, he liked to keep himself as informed as possible. With as many peoples businesses as possible ‘Two g, three days from now, Pipers’. Aart wasnt very interested by this bosses opiate dealings, as thats what he interpretted it to mean. He just made a mental note not to accept jobs from him unless he really needed the money. Aart didnt like to get involved in the movement of drugs, he didnt like the effect it had on people, and he never trusted the dealers. It was too easy for them to get thier own fix then blame it on the carrier. However having acceptd the job, he would carry through with it. Aart arrived at the Two Brewers Inn and decided to enter through the front door. It was full which was how he liked it. Slipping subtly to the edge of the room, he manoeuvred himself in between two groups of men drinking and talking loudly. He silently swiped a drink from a nearby table and slipped further round the room to a dark corner. Sipping the drink, not because he wanted it, but to be unnoticed in a crowd. Scanning the room he spotted his target immediatly, a tall man with a large forehead and a scar running down his cheek. Aart decided that this scar was probably caused by a scrap over drugs, and his instant dislike for the man was heightened when he grabbed the arse of a lady stood near by. She squealed and turned and smiled at him. The shallowness of these people in Aarts eyes annoyed him, and it was all Aart could do to keep his face neutral and not allow his disgust and judgement to show on his face. Aart had over the years perfected the art of subtlty, secracy and he prided himself on being able to blend into almost any situation or move around without being noticed. This wasnt hard in a crowded inn when half the clientel were most of the way to a morning headache. He slithreed through the bar to the otherside and stood right behind old scar face, he decided he didnt want to engage in conversation or even allow this man the chance to make the connection to his face, so he simply slipped the note into one of his pockets, and lifted some tax for himself out as he removed his hand. So quick and nibble he was with his fingers that the man didnt feel a thing. Aart ducked away and quickly examinded his loot, a small coin purse with several low value coins inside, a pocket watch and a key. Aart returned the key as he brushed past back towards the exit. Cant make the man homeless over a few leaves after all he thought.

Slipping back into the cool night air. Aart lifted his hood and crossed the street to an alley opposite the inn and leaned against the wall in the shadows. He flicked open his beaten up tin, and selected a roll up. Striking a match on the rough wall, he breathed in the cool night air and watched a cloud drift in front of the moon. As he took his first drag, he was distracted by two large men entering the inn he had just exited. Large as they were Aart almost missed the scrawny man who was in tow, he only saw him because one of the larger ones held the door for him to enter. Aart immidatly threw his roll up to the floor and twisted his toe on top of it to hide the spark. This was, unless he was very much mistaken this was a man he had been hearing a lot about recently, he matched the description. Aart made it his business to follow shifty characters above ground whenever he had time. One of the groups he followed had recently recruited a man from city across the river, Aart hadn’t figured out why he was here or how dangerous he was. But conversations he had over heard, had all been with a tone of reverence, respect and undertones of fear. This mans signature was his curved dagger and his emotionless demeanour.

Aarts suspicions were confirmed by the sharp drop in volume from the previously quite raucous inn. Muffled sounds of Cheerful voices and laughter were replaced by an atmosphere of nervousness and fear that could be felt even outside the inn. Aart nimbly began to scale the building he stood next to. People rarely looked up, and Aart wanted to observe from a place of safety. He reached the top swiftly and lay down peering over the tiles to watch the inn entrance. A few minutes of indistinguishable conversation later and there was a sharp cry and a thud. Raised voices followed and the three men exited the inn again, the smaller man was wiping a curved blade on piece of cloth. He paused just outside the door, and barely speaking louder than if he were communicating with the man next to him he said.

‘You see much more than is good for you thief. Watch your footing, I could have use for your skills, or I can add to my team of blind beggars’

With that he turn and strolled down the street with the larger thugs in tow, as if nothing more had happened than a casual evenings walk. Aart rolled on to his back and stared up at the moon. Fear gripped him, he was good at not being noticed, but right now felt that he had been being watched all night. He frantically retraced his steps and actions in his mind, as the noises from the inn became louder with fear and panic, and customers fled to the streets. He ignored the cries and sounds of people running through the streets below him, more intent on examining his own movements, than the chaos below.

‘Two G’s’ that didn’t refer to drugs, that was a reference to grates... pipers. The pipers was in the shades over by west end.’ This note was referring to grates not drugs, Aart had too casually dismissed this information. But what did it mean, and was Aarts handlers target also this mans target. He rolled back over in time to see the man who’s coin purse was in his hand be carried out of the inn by a couple of barmen and dropped in the gutter, throat sliced and face disfigured. Aarts suspicions were confirmed. They draped an apron over his head and left him there to return inside. Who this man worked for was still unclear to Aart, but he was going to find out. Weather he’d been spotted or not.

He had intended to pick up some baccy, and perhaps some bread from his favourite bakers, but Aart’s feelings of unease drove this from his mind, he slipped silently back down the building and nimbly slipped into the night towards a nearby grate controlled by Crow.

Dusk was falling, the orange glow of candle light was beginging to fill the strees through people’s window.s Aart wanted to get below ground quickly, he did not like this time of day as there were always less people around to hide amougst. It made him feel exposed. On top of this the dusk was bringing the hints of a misty night. There was an entrance to the thieves tunnels a few streets away, and Aart caustioulsy made his way towards it. Keeping to back alleys and narrower street, ears pricked for any usual sound. As he was making progress, out of nowhere a shadow almost silenty plumetted down in front of him. Swallowing a cry Aart skidded to a halt and slipped over backwards, quickly realising it was a man dressed in dark clothes with a black cloak, he stopped, scrambled to his feet and took up a defensive stance, feeling for his knife up his sleeve.

‘Who are you? And why are you jumping down in alleys like that?’ he demanded. In reposnse the stranger started to approach Aart purposefully and quickly. Aart pulled out his knife and and with a deft flick of the wrist sent it whirling in the strangers direction. But with relexes that seemed inhumanly fast the stranger twisted out of its way, jumped and brought both feet down square in Aart’s chest. Fear pumped through his body as winded, he struggled to his feet fighting off the stranger squirming out of his grips and rolling away. The stranger however did not seem to be struggling at all, he ran straight at Aart as he was still scrambling to his feet and with his shoulder the stranger slammed Aart against the wall.

‘Im the one who is in charge here’ he growled. ‘Ill jump in front of whoever I want to.’ The strangers piercing blue eyes shone out form the darkness in his hood. Relaxing his grip on Aart ever so slightly he added ‘I have a job for you’

‘Im a thief, I dont take orders from people like you’ Aart again tried to throw the stranger off, but the stranger didnt even seem to be putting in any effort to keep Aart pinned to the wall. With one arm holing Aart in place, he calmly withdrew a sealed note from his cloak with the other.

‘Here is a note, it is sealed and ill know if you open it. It lands in Corconans hands by dawn, and you’ll bring me his response by dusk tomorrow. Meet me at the top of the church tower to deliver it.’

‘No’

‘Can’t you climb? Something else your useless at, perhaps I chose the wrong thief’

‘I can climb but I wont take your job’ replied Aart, surprised by his own annoyance at the casual insult.

‘Good, top of the tower at dusk then.’ The stranger responded, ignoring Aarts dismissal of the job invitation. ‘Ill be taking this as collaterol.’ He added, the stranger reached down the top of Aarts shirt and pulled out his amulet that his mother had given him. With a short sharp tug the chain broke. Aart struggled in the strangers grip again, panic filling hm making his usually skilled and calm movements eratic and frantic.

‘Give it back, you dont understand, you can have anything else I have on me, just give that back!’ The stranger stepped back letting Aart loose, who immediatlly charged at him, but the stranger just knocked him away as if he was swotting a fly, he held up the amulet to examine it. Aart went crashing to the floor and got up and again charged at the stranger, who batted him away a second time. This time Aart was sent sprawling into a puddle landing hard on his elbow, which errupted in pain, he rolled over cradeling it, hating himself for this show of weakness. This man had got the better of him and stolen the most valuble thing he owned, anger curesed through his body.

‘I’ll stick with this thanks’ the stranger said causually before he turned away from Aart and struck a match on the rough wall, he opened a well worn and battered tin and selected a roll up. Recognition dawned on Aart as the stranger lit one of the roll ups and tossed Aart’s tin back at him. Aart caught it with his good arm and confrirmed it was his by flipping it over and seeing his signiture mark scratched into the bottom. ‘Sorry about that, its been a long day, I needed a light. You can have the tin back though, I have my own. Tomorrow at dusk then.’ And with that he took one last draw on the roll up, tossed the remainder to the ground and ran at the wall gripping the smallest notches in the bricks and nimbly climbing until he reached the top of the building and disappearing into the night.

Aart eased himself up, into a sitting position, gently feeling around his elbow which was still causing pain to throb through his body, he couldn’t examine it properly here, and could see mists decending quickly as the dusk turned into night. Pulling himself up with his good arm, he jogged to the end of the alley and peered around the corner, his head also begun to throb as the adrenalin begun to subside, putting his hand up he felt the back of his head. Sticky and warm blood was seeping out of wound there. Fear began to take over, dont think about the amulet he said to himself, just get below ground, get to safey first. Abandoning caution, Aart pushed himself out onto the open street and darted to the nearest tunnel enterance. There were a few people walking around, Aart clocked them as he went past. Drunk, hoar, drunk, kid, nothing dangerous, nearly there. He wrenched out a grate, that was stiff and didnt easily come loose and graceleesly flung himself in, fitting the grate back into place behind him. Gathering himself and catching his breath he turned to the grate-keeper.

‘Identify please’

‘Aarchadon, I was on a job for Corconans’

‘Gate code?’

‘Whats the gate number, I got into some trouble, havn’t used this gate before, it was just the closest’

‘289, west side of the city’

Aart cursed, this was one of Rat’s gates, he didnt want to be in Rat’s terrorirty. It was a long way from his digs, and he still owed Rat a pretty sum from some years back. Aart didn’t want to be out in the darkness and the mists either though. Sighing and resigning himself for a long treck back to Corconan’s territory he hazarded a guess at the gate code

‘Im not sure as I rarely use Rat’s gates. Would it be Romate?’

‘Close enough, I’m not going to make you walk out top to the next one, but if you are gonig to use Rat’s gates, can you please take the time to memorise the passcodes. Romate is three gates down, this one would be Romine’ This gate keeper seemed reasonable, which was a relief to Aart

‘Yeah, ok thanks though’ said Aart ‘We good to go then?’

‘Oh… yeah, sure’ the grate-keeper stepped aside and let Aart pass. Aart hobbled in to the long dark of the tunnels hoping not to bump into Rat.