Chapter 2 (Friends II)

~1k Words

“Whereupon you will become the purveyor of goods thrice picked over, and information I could acquire from a deaf dirt-urchin. These vast riches in hand Bal, you would soon discover that you were in the exact same place you’ve always been. A rai-less bastard anchored to the useless weight of his family,” said Maize with a wicked smile.

“Piss off, you motherless shit,” said Bal.

“Ahhh, the two of us don’t miss a note do we? Me, one of Aerodin’s ten thousand motherless shits, and youuu,” said Maize, drawing out the last syllable. “Perhaps the only boy not pissing in his breeches who still has a mother to see that he doesn’t.”

Bal snorted a laugh and the two of them embraced.

“Aeras forgive me, it’s been a long time,” said Maize, then he swatted Bal on the chest with the back of his hand. “C’mon, I gotta show you something.”

Bal was due back at Dalbo’s before the sun fell below the rim, but before he could protest, Maize had already dashed off. Bal frowned as his old friend carelessly navigated the circled loops that lay strewn about the walkways, each one of them capable of bringing with it the same fate that had befallen the little girl, and countless others besides. As he scanned the loops, the walkway lurched again.

He caught his balance and shook his head.

“Fucking place.”

#

Bal struggled to keep up with Maize as they dove deeper into The Pitts. Twenty minutes of dodging loops, leaping gaps, toeing carefully around rotten walkways, and generally holding his breath was proving more difficult than he remembered.

Finally Maize slowed to a stop.

The surreal chaos of of the Pits spilled out around them, the haphazard remains of a tent fire the gods had prepared but never lit. Bal recognized some of what he saw; pathways like old fox trails that hadn’t grown over. He was surprised he could still distinguish old from new among the veritable forest of criss-crossing wood and fallen structures, doubly so given how quickly those new builds imbued that same mossy green hue that came from constant exposure to the elements. It was only the inordinate amount of time that Bal had spent here as a child that allowed him to pick out the small changes that had occurred during his absence. Changes of pattern and texture, a feeling of off-ness that was difficult to put into words.

Changes in the Pitts were to be expected, even big ones, but changes were easier to digest when they happened incrementally, and in this case, Bal was not given that luxury.

In the middle of a sea of faded yellows, muddy browns, and mottled greens was a sprawling building of black ironwood, pressed tight against the sheer cliff-side that made up the base of Nero’s Thumb. A dark, pillared splendor with wide walkways that spun out from its center in ordered lines that made the rest of the Pitts look all the more shambolic by comparison. A single breath whistled out through Bal’s lips. The ironwood building stretched imperiously against the base of Nero’s thumb, a blooded noble surrounded by its conscripted servant. Turrets crawled up the side of the cliff as though they’d been built into the stone itself. Turrets Bal marveled, like a damned castle or something! He turned back to Maize, questions piling on top of each other like grains in a freshly turned sandglass.

The walkway took a lurching swing beneath them, and too distracted to account for it’s movement, Bal lost his balance and staggered sideways into Maize.

“Hey now. Keep moving like that, and you’re gonna end up hanging out with Tibol,” said Maize. He had both hands on Bal to steady him, but didn’t look pleased about it.

“I’m still on my feet,” said Bal.

“Dumb luck,” said Maize, and pushed Bal away.

“How… How did they do this?”

“Crazy right?”

Bal nodded.

“They finished right before last Downing,” said Maize. “Good timing too, it’s bad enough trying to build anything in this Pitthole. Can’t imagine trying to do it in the rain.”

“So… what is it?” Bal drifted forward on light feet, his arms out to the side like a child on a balance beam as the walkway continued to move beneath him. The swaying had gotten worse the deeper into The Pitts they’d gone.

“I’m still trying to parse that out. I’m getting closer though. Been working their since they finished, but I only really see one guy and he’s real cagey about it. Kind of an asshole truth be told, but I’ll figure him out too.” Maize crossed his arms.

“What kind of work is it?”

Maize shrugged. “This and that. They pay pretty good, so I’m sticking with it for now.”

“You’re not working with that Fox anymore? That guy you told me about last time… uh…” Bal’s fingers danced, as though the name he sought might land in his palm if properly summoned.

“Thrish? Eh, kind of. He’s the reason I’m in there.”

“Nice.”

“Yea, I guess so.”

“You don’t sound that happy about it.”

“It’s alright.” Maize shrugged. “Different.”

“Well I already blew off Dalbo, so let’s go in. You can show me around.”

Maize bit his lip. “Yeaaa. They’re, uh, kinda particular about that.”

“I mean… Why? What’s in there? Is it a market or something?”

“I dunno,” said Maize, crossing his arms and turning away. “It’s a building I guess. I told you, they’re pretty quiet about it.”

“Fair enough,” said Bal, relenting.

They stood for a moment in the shadow of mountain and castle. Bal allowed himself a second to wonder what Dalbo might pay for this information, but soon dismissed the question, as even the thought of haggling made him feel tired.

“Listen Bal, I gotta head inside. I’m pushing it as it is.”

“You sure I can’t come with you and check it out?”

“With me? No. I don’t need that on my head. But hey, if you wanna try and get in on your own, you’re welcome to give it a go. Just keep my name out of it.”

“You think it’ll be difficult?” asked Bal, perking up.

“Nah.” Maize smiled. “Just ask nicely.”