The Fly Guild (10 page)

“What if they aren’t drunk?”

“They will be. The girls send the
really drunk ones, or the ones high on swamp weed out this side door. The sober
ones, or the dangerous ones, they get sent out the front door. I’ll take the
first one and you can kind of watch me get started to see how it works.”

The boys waited for several minutes
until there was a bang on the door and it swung inward on rusty hinges. A plump
blonde with long, curly hair wearing nothing but an oversized silk shirt peered
out at them and smiled. Though most of her was visible, either through the
shirt or through the large armholes that acted as portholes to view her body,
she showed no shame. The door opened wider to reveal a glassy-eyed man in his
forties. His hair was mostly gray and slicked back, and he stumbled as he
stepped forward. Huck quickly grabbed his arm.

“Easy there, buddy. The Pink Lady
cares about your safety and will get you home.”

The man mumbled something
unintelligible. The blonde in the doorway said, “Go on home, stud. The boy will
take care of you.” She looked at Quinton, winked, then slammed the door. Huck
had his arm around the man to steady him, even though he was half the man’s
size. He could already see his hand enter the side pocket and feel around for
money or other valuables. Soon both of them had disappeared into the darkness
of the street. Quinton waited for what seemed a very long time. He wasn’t sure
if it normally took this long or if he should give up and do something else,
but he knew he would never find the Fly Guild without Huck leading him so he
stayed put. He heard someone walk toward him from the back of the building. He
peered through the darkness, but he could only make out a dark shape slightly
taller than him.

“Hey, maggot,” came a sultry voice
greeting him. He still couldn’t see who the person was. “I saw you lookin’ at
me today. You got any money?”

“No, I don’t have much of anything.
Who are you?”

The figure stepped toward him and
entered the faint light coming from a window above. He could see long, curly
hair and light skin.

“My name is Kate. What’s yours?”

Quinton hesitated. It was the girl
he had seen earlier and his heart raced, but though he longed to tell her his
name, he also knew she worked for the guild. It was probably a test.

“I don’t have a name. Just maggot.”

She giggled, showing her to be much
younger than he thought. The smile quickly left her face as she spoke again.
“Do you think I’m some kind of spy for Fist?”

Quinton studied her in the dark.
Even in the faint light, he could see her beautiful green eyes. “Why wouldn’t I
think that? He owns this place.”

She quickly added, “And me.”

Quinton didn’t know what to say.

“Do you think I like being a
whore?” she asked softly. “Think I like having all these men lie on top of me?
It’d be bad enough if I got the money, but I don’t. Fist gets it all. I just
get to eat and have a roof over my head, but most of the time the place is full
of men groping and grabbing at you, so there’s never any rest.”

Quinton stared at her in the
darkness for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. “I’m sorry for
you,” he said, his voice consoling.

“Be sorry for all of us,” she said,
a hint of anger showing through. “Be sorry for the sorry lives we lead. Be
sorry that this is the life we have. The river would be better, I think.”

“Can’t you escape?” Quinton asked.

Kate shook her head. “I can’t
escape any more than you can. You try, you die. In fact, I could get a small
reward just for telling Fist that you even mentioned the word.”

Quinton’s eyes went wide with fear.

“Don’t worry,” she added, “I won’t.
There are enough bad things going on in this city without me adding to it.” She
looked at him and smiled slightly. “I have to get back now before my fellow
wakes up and screams for his money back. I just had to get out for a little
while and get some air. I’ll see you around, I hope.”

Quinton nodded. “I hope so, too.”

“Stay alive, maggot.” She turned
and started to disappear into the darkness.

“Kate,” he called after her. She
stopped and turned her head slightly. “Quinton.”

She stood there motionless for a
moment, then said, “Stay alive, Quinton.” Then she disappeared into the
darkness.

Quinton leaned against the wall and
sighed. Talking to her had been the best thing that had happened to him since
he had been captured by the guild. If only he could figure out a way to get
them both out. But he knew there was no way. There was no place to hide in the
city, and the city itself was surrounded by an almost impenetrable swamp that
had knee-deep water in it during a large part of the year. The only way out was
on the ships that came, but those required money, and they would never
knowingly defy Fist to get them out. He made a promise to himself to find a way
out. A way out for both of them. But who was he fooling? Why would she want to
leave with him? She barely knew him. That would have to change. He’d show her
what he was really like, that he wasn’t just another maggot.

Quinton took his turn escorting a
man away from the Pink Lady and cleaning out his pockets on the way. He was
obese; large rolls hung over his belt and he smelled of garlic. He shuddered at
the thought of the man on top of Kate. He repeated the process twice more, once
with a tall, skinny man with short cropped brown hair who was so drunk he could
hardly walk and once with a balding man in his late fifties. Quinton grew
angrier with each escort, thinking about what Kate must have to endure.

As he stood waiting for his next
victim, the door opened behind him. There was a tall muscular, noble-looking
man in the doorway. His eyes went from almost asleep to wide open in random
intervals – a sure sign of drug use. He grabbed someone from behind the door
and pulled her to him. He saw Kate’s look of disgust as he forced his lips
against hers and groped her crotch. She gently pushed him away. “Time to go
now. The maggot will see you home safe.” The man, who was in his late teens or
early twenties, didn’t acknowledge Quinton but put his hands on Kate’s
shoulders. He smiled slightly, then slammed her against the door. Her head
whipped against the door and she crumpled to the floor. The man stood jubilant
above her, like he had just knocked out a champion pugilist. He held his arms
up and looked around the street as if celebrating with an invisible crowd.

“Hell, yeah,” he said, his speech
slurred and his eyes wild.

Another girl had helped Kate to her
feet. There was a tear in her eye, and she touched the back of her head to
check for blood.

“Go on home, Cerebus,” the other
girl yelled. “Go on home or I’ll sic the toughs on you!”

“Right,” the man said derisively,
but he stumbled forward.

Quinton looked to make sure Kate
was all right, but the other girl shut the door before he could make eye
contact with her. He looked back to the man and quickly came up behind him. He
was going to push him to the ground, but he was much bigger, and he thought
better of it. Even in his intoxicated state, he looked to be more than he could
handle.

“Come on, sir,” Quinton politely
said. “I’ll help you home.”

The man never looked at him. “I
don’t need no stinkin’ help,” he said.

“Then why are you headed the wrong
way?” Quinton asked.

The man stopped and his eyes
narrowed. He looked down the street both ways and seemed confused. “Yeah, maybe
you’re right,” he said. “I’ll follow you.”

Quinton led the man down the dark
part of the street. His fists clenched tighter with every step and his teeth
started to grind together. He purposely bumped into the man to reach into his
pockets. He grasped a few coins and some other things he couldn’t identify in
the dark. On his third try, his hand found the handle of a dagger in a sheath
on the back side of the man’s belt. His hand grasped the hilt that felt cool to
the touch in the night air. He could feel the pommel against the bottom of his
hand. He carefully slid the dagger free and tucked it into the waist of his
pants.

“You should have seen me tonight
kid. I banged that Kate whore in ways she never dreamed of. I violated her in
every way possible, and it hardly cost me anything. I could buy her you know.”

Quinton had his hand on the back of
the man’s tunic, guiding him along the street. He realized he was biting his
lip so hard that it had started to bleed. Here was an example of everything
that was wrong with the world. “What do you like best about her?” Quinton asked
as he turned the man down one of the many dark alleys in the area.

The man groaned with pleasure. “I
like the way she squeals in pain when you’re rough with her. I like slapping
her around to remind her what she is.” He mumbled several other things, but
Quinton tuned them out, his fists clenching by his side.

“She told me she likes you the
best,” said Quinton as they were almost in complete darkness, stumbling along
the alleyway, dodging rotting food and other garbage, along with the occasional
large rat.

The man mumbled in recognition.
“Yeah, I knew she liked it.”

“I like you the best, too,” Quinton
said, carefully pulling the dagger from his waist as he turned the man to face
him. “You wanna know why?”

The man snickered. “Tell me.”

Quinton took the dagger and thrust
it up into the man’s chest right under the rib cage as hard as he could. The
man doubled over in pain, letting out a garbled yell. As he was doubled over,
Quinton smashed the pommel of the dagger into the back of the man’s head,
sending him to the ground with a sickening thud. He could feel the warm sticky
blood covering his hand. He ran back down the alley. He heard one last moan
from the man before he rounded the corner and headed back toward the Pink Lady.
His heart was pounding. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure what had just
happened. He had killed a man, a man who deserved to be killed, but he figured
he was done for sure. His anger was gone, replaced by weakness and fear. He
stopped under a shuttered window that had a light behind it. He could see from
the glow that his hand was covered in blood.

He wandered aimlessly for a few
hours, unsure what to do. Then he came to the river. It was so dark and
noiseless that he almost walked into it. He hadn’t noticed the shadows of the
houses had stopped on either side of him some ways back. He waded into the cool
water and scrubbed his hands of the blood. He washed his face and clothes as
best he could. His clothes were so dark and stained he doubted anyone would
notice. But how would he find his way back? He looked at the dagger in the pale
starlight. Its blade felt good on his hand. He found a unique outcropping of
three large rocks among some high grass nearby and a depression under one of
them in which to hide it. Some day, if he lived, he might need the blade again.

He left the river and headed off in
the general direction of where he believed the Pink Lady to be. It was getting
late, and the taverns were emptying out around the city as people headed home. Half
in a daze, he heard a voice calling to him.

“Where the hell have you been?”
said Huck. “We’re already late. I was ready to give up on ya.” Quinton’s eyes
looked at Huck, who stopped talking, then looked to the ground. His hands were
quivering. He put them against his side to try to hide it from the other boy.
“What happened to you?”

Quinton swallowed hard before
answering. His mouth was dry and he found it difficult to speak without his
voice cracking. “I ran into a bit of trouble,” he said quietly.

“Someone almost get ya?”

“Yeah,” Quinton stammered, happy to
have an excuse. “Someone almost got me. I got some coins and then … ” his voice
trailed off.

Huck put his arm around him. “Don’t
worry, maggot. It happens to all of us. Everyone almost gets caught once in a
while. But you got away, and that’s all that’s important.” He paused as he
thought of something else. “But you did get the coins, then got away, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Huck beamed from ear to ear. He
slapped him on the back. “Well, there you have it, then, coins and all.
Hopefully enough to keep Red eye off of us. Come on, we need to get going.”
With that, Huck trotted off down the street with Quinton close behind.

The boys returned to the guild with
little notice. Red eye was collecting the goods as the various maggots
returned. His face was unreadable as Quinton dumped his small collection of
coins and what turned out to be a small gemstone into a large sack the master
was holding. Huck told him on the way back to the maggot pit that he had more
coins than Quinton, but the gemstone more than made up for it. Huck was still
talking as he leaned his back into the dorm door and opened it up.

The other maggots, who had been
talking, immediately stopped and stared. There was a faint glow coming from a
several small candles set in the wall, all of which were around Lacoris. The
older boy’s face broke out into a wicked sneer when he saw Quinton enter the
room. He got up off the cot and approached him, the other boys moving out of
the way to make a path.

“So,” he said sarcastically, “It’s
our little wall climber.”

Quinton didn’t say anything,
knowing no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be right.

“Did you lose your voice?” called
Vergoth, the squat, muscular boy said as he came to stand by Lacoris. “Or are
you just deaf?”

Quinton turned his head to stare at
Vergoth. The other boy stared back.

“He’s both,” said Lacoris, drawing
everyone’s attention back to him. “It’s what happens when you’re scared. You
lose the ability to talk and you don’t hear nothing.’” Some of the other boys
nearby laughed nervously, unsure if he was making a joke or not. Lacoris didn’t
smile, but his voice took on a dangerous edge as his hand went down to the
notched and rusty dirk at his belt. “Let me explain something again,” he began,
“I’m ready to be named master and get out of here. I ain’t havin’ nobody mess
that up. Master Hack says I’m the best maggot down here and I’m sure to be
named next. If you starts showing me up with a lucky move here and there, well,
that don’t reflect too good on me now, does it?”