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They don't teach you this at school.
Mevela 26th, 1125 Dom.
I awoke to the sound of the door opening. Rather, the key turning inside the knob and the door hitting the back of the wall where it shook the front wall and the books and the curtains which slanted and shed light unto me. I raised my head off the table, off the book. The ugly face of a bug-spider-thing wet with drool, and my own chin wet with my drool and my face red with the indentation.
“What is it?” I rubbed my face.
“You fell asleep, sir.” The book keeper said. “I let you stay in.”
More like he didn’t want to deal with kicking me out.
“Will you be reading today too, sir?” He asked.
“No.” I closed the book and stretched my arms.
“Good, sir.” He said. “Someone came looking for you.”
“Obrick? Tell that prick I don’t him anymore.” I said.
“No. No, sir. A blonde, short boy.”
And from the corner of the door I saw his face peeking. Two little blue eyes that peered around to the front window inside to the bookstore.
“Hi.” He waved his hand.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“You came to get me?” We walked outside, through the streets that in this sun seemed foreign to me. A city foreign somehow; not that the cornices or the statues or the writing was any stranger…just different. And all the towns people (which as I suspected, were mostly women) were out in the day, the stalls were lined and stretched far on the street and already at the center-most there was a bustling of the merchants and the people.
“Yes. You never showed up yesterday.” He said. “I thought I’d buy you some wine as a welcoming gift.”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I asked.
“Oh. Oh…I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re fine.” I said. “You apologize a lot, you know that?”
“I’m sorry.” Justinian sucked in his lips.
“Do you even know what kind of wine I like?”
“Well, that’s why I came around. To ask.”
Some children ran past us, the mother screaming behind them ‘not too far, not too far’. Passing me every now and then were the side ways glares of parents, and the way they turned their child away. Or stranger yet were the ways people walked fast past alleys and dark places. Not even the beggars waited there, they shacked up on the streets with blankets. I guess that was the nature of the city. Not that I was surprised by the way everyone clutched themselves or the people around them, not that it was insulting. That even in the middle of the bustle with all the click-clatter of boots and shoes around me and the screaming voices of vendors that in this confluence, in the bedlam of the shopping district that even people could be afraid. Nightstalkers lived in their heads and the nightmares never really wore away, or must have never worn away.
I stopped at a meat vendor and seeing all the hanging beef and links, I checked my pockets and looked around for small little girl thieves and smiled. Justinian looked up.
“Sorry.” I said. “I remember things strangely.”
“No, no. I think that’s the first I’ve seen you smile or laugh.” He stared. “Was that the knife?”
“Huh?” I touched my waist and sheath.
“Was that the knife you used to hunt down the basilisks?”
“Oh. This. Yeah.”
“Can I…?” His eyes gleaned. “Can I see it?”
“Uh…sure.” I handed it to him and he walked spinning my rusted, broken blade. As if the brown was a kind of gold to him. He bumped into every little thing as we walked through the plaza. The men with horses and sabers and funny looking hats. Plaques and statues of 'Saint Luvicinia'. Other children and midwives. So on.
"These are some big markets." I said. Justinian snapped back to attention and handed me the knife.
"Yes they are, it’s always been hard to navigate especially in the morning.”
"You come from this city?" I asked.
"Not quite, I was born a city over in Lavonia but I was raised here. Yes." He said. "It's a little sad, what's happening and all."
"We’ll solve it. Vincent always solves it." I said. "How'd you hear about me anyway? What made you enlist?"
“It’s like I said.” Justinian looked around. “I heard your stories.”
“I don’t believe that.”
I came by a fruit stand, there was something odd in there. They were called dead man's fingers. Red banana looking things all roped together to look like a hand. And opening it, it was like I was staring at a phallus shaped hatch of pomegranate seeds. I ate a couple, sour. Sweet. Delicious.
"Captain Vicentius came into town a few weeks before you and the minute he stepped foot it was like the whole city lit up with the news and stories of the Flock. About the man they called fire starter who ignited ocean itself. Or Vicentius of the holy sword who melted through maneaters.
"Do you believe them, the stories?" I asked. He lowered his head, his blonde hair falling over his eyes.
"Is it better not to believe in them?" He asked.
“If I told you they were false stories, would you leave the flock?”
“N-no.” He said.
We took a few steps out.
“Are they false?” He asked.
“A little. The truth is even stranger.”
We stopped by a store. A mask vendor who what I believe had the creepiest looking things hanging from his little canvas roof. Masks, faces with grossly tall fangs and opened mouth with bright tongues.
"What are these?" I asked. “These tasteless things.”
"They're called Yustoff masks. They're supposed to scare away nightmares. Kids buy them and hang them on their bed posts." He said.
"Are they selling them because of the nightstalkers?" I asked.
"No. No, these have existed as long as the city has. There's always been a fear associated with this city, like the fog and the cold nights. People say it's because we were built on top of a catacomb." He said. “So we have an association with death, so to speak.
“Fear as a fetish.” I turned the mask over. “Wait. This city was built on top of catacombs?”
"The catacombs of Joustef the wi-”
I shook him.
"The catacombs." My eyes went wide. "What'd you say about the catacombs?"
"We were built on top of a catacomb?" He said.
"Is that true?" I asked.
"It's just a rumor."
And it was a rumor that could change everything.
“Where could I find official documents about the city? Infrastructure, certainly you have writs or blueprints or anything?”
"The mayor’s building?” His head rattled. “Could you please stop?”
“Who has all the records of the city?" I turned him even faster. "Take me there, now."
"For?" He asked.
"Just take me there." I screamed. Everyone turned to face me.
The poor kid just gawked, nodding his head up and down. “Alright. Alright. Alright.”
