With Friends like These
Iatr, Klem and Lucy go to witness the angry protests outside the Exchequer, domain of the "Evil Wizard-Sheriff" Ratcliff. Iatr is inspired to take vengeance by potato.
Previously in this story arc;
If you are new to this story, start here, and read from the beginning.
With Friends like These
The street was alive with all the energy and buzz of a nest of offended wasps. Territorial, aggressive and loud. The usual placid humdrum of the plaza had been replaced with a chaotic sea of protestors, hawkers and gawkers.
Ylan plaza was the home of many guild halls, craftsmen and merchants. There was a lending house, an upscale Inn frequented by council envoys from other cities, a rather suspiciously clean Tavern by the name of “The King’s Rose,” and, of course, the office of the Exchequer.
On any normal day, this Plaza would be partially populated by merchants and nobles looking to make deals, or at the very least be seen making deals. But today, its well dressed and coiffed denizens were nowhere to be seen. For the craftsmen had taken to the streets en masse, and they were angry.
WHY they were angry was a matter of speculation. If you asked any individual in that crowd “Why” you would likely have received a different answer. But the most common complaint would focus around the story of Jake the Tanner, and how the Sheriff had taken his wife into custody because of an unpopular law that should only ever be used to punish the families of traitors and deserters. Or very poor people.
And how it should never, ever, be used to punish the “hard working folk who keep this city and country and it’s never ending war supplied.” The fact that the Sheriff had turned out to be an “evil wizard” who assaulted the innocent and upstanding Jake Bracken only made this story more compelling.
Wizards were a feared and distrusted lot. No one disputed their importance, because to do so would run the risk of being cursed or turned into a newt. No one actually knew what a newt looked like, as those creatures knew better than to ever enter a city like Rundell, but they all knew they did not want to be turned into one. The fact that the Wizards, and the College of Celestial Wizards in particular, were a major contributor to the continued operation of the city’s infrastructure and economy was largely ignored. This was due to the reality that those wizards were the primary beneficiaries of their own contributions, and weren’t well known for their generosity. [1]
1 - It’s hard to care about an economy's gross domestic product when you can’t afford to pay rent or buy food.
So the common folk of the city had few qualms about rising up, grabbing their pitchforks, and marching down the street to complain loudly at the evil wizard. They knew better than to actually assault a wizard. This tended to attract the wrath of the crown. And the wizards.
So complain they did.
“Send her home! Send her home! Send her home!” the crowd yelled. It was short, it was catchy, and 98% of them had no idea what Tessa’s name was - but they’d all heard she was incredibly beautiful, a perfect wife, and a loving mother. [2]
2 - Details of her criminally inclined son were rarely mentioned.
An enterprising merchant had brought in several wagons full of partially chewed produce that he had been preparing to throw out after storing it too long in a rat infested warehouse. A poorly painted sign hung off the side of his wagon saying “Discounted! Food for the Rat… cliff!” [3]
3 - The craftsmen proved to be willing to pay more money for the extra rotten produce, and the merchant found himself in the giddying position of selling extra worthless food for extra high prices because of the novelty. The “Discounted” part of the sign was, at this point, false advertising.
Someone tossed one of the extra ripe squashes at the Exchequer’s second floor windows. The crowd cheered as the results of his heroic throw landed like a gold medal at the local street fair throwing competition at a mid-afternoon Saturday market. The squash popped with a wet splorch and its moist contents erupted all over the glass.
The squash’s guts slid off the glass of the windows leaving a surprisingly clean surface in their wake. There was a slight shimmer of light, the colour of the faintest of violets, that remained against the glass before fading away into nothing. Whatever wizardry the evil sheriff had done had left his windows impervious to being broken by flying produce, and left a layer of magic behind that the produce goop couldn’t stick too. The genius of this ward was only slightly marred by the fact that these windows had a slightly larger than average well the glass was set into.
So the rotting debris was collecting on the window sill below the glass, adding to slowly climbing pyramids of decaying produce as the day went on.
Since crown property hadn’t technically been damaged, the city watch and its reinforcements from the King's guard hadn’t charged the protesting crowd.
That, and the crowd’s rather significant size.
The heavily armed contingent was content watching, calmly, just up the street.
At least… they hadn’t charged yet.
—
“See?” said Lucy to the lurking Iatr and Klem.
The three were hiding out in a second story stairwell, trying not to attract the attention of anyone inside the business that had likely boarded up their door and either gone home or gone on a long vacation. A little ways away from the denser part of the crowd, they had a good vantage point to see much of the chaos of the protest and malicious produce-ing of the Sheriff’s office windows.
“Serves him right,” Iatr said with all the righteousness of an offended youth.
Klem was inclined to agree. He didn’t really understand Rundellian law, but something felt deeply unjust about the imprisonment of Iatr’s mother and sister over the crimes that Klem and Iatr had committed, and fairly escaped prison from.
“It’s a dirty move. Going after family like that,” Klem said sagely, “Lawmen should know better.”
Lucy piped up, “I heard Sham’r had one of his men’s brothers stabbed after the guy stole a bag full of Treoraí and sold it to the north side smugglers for cheap.”
“That’s different,” Iatr said crossly, who was protective of Sham’rs reputation for reasons that never made a great deal of sense to Klem. “Sham’rs got a business to protect, and people gotta know not to mess with him.”
Klem thought about this, and frowned. “Wait… how is that different?”
Lucy said smartly, “It’s not. They’re both old people who take your money and keep it for themselves, and threaten you if you won’t pay.”
“Naw uh,” Iatr said, glaring at the smaller person… who was probably a girl. Probably. “Sham’r sells goods. He’s a respectable businessman.”
Lucy cocked her head at Iatr, “So what goods do you buy from Sham’r?”
Iatr frowned, “Not goods. Rights.”
“Rights to what?” Lucy asked, her eyes fixed on Iatr like she was an Owl. Wide, interested, and probably judging him.
“To steal from the merchants in the south east and centre districts of Rundell,” Iatr said proudly, “We’re contractors!”
“Why don’t you just steal the rights to do that. Or just steal, and pretend you have the rights. It’d be like double stealing. You’d make more money,” Lucy said. Klem was startled to hear someone else voicing the same thoughts he’d been having for close to a year. He’d always just gone along with the idea that Iatr was right that they had to pay Sham’r a cut of their hard work. But he’d always wondered.
“And isn’t that what the Sheriff is doing to all those craftsmen?” Lucy finished.
Iatr looked aghast at Lucy, “They are not the same!”
Lucy said, “Yea, Sham’r had the guy’s brother stabbed. Your mom is at the quarries.”
Iatr looked back at the Exchequer, “And my sister.” His voice sounded strained and furious.
He stood up, with an unusually ferocious resolve about him. He dashed down the steps of the stairwell and into the crowded streets.
“Iatr!” Klem said in a loud whisper-shout. His street brother disappeared from view.
“He’s going to steal some produce,” Lucy said, peering over the railing edge into the crowd where Iatr had disappeared. Klem looked at her, then into the crowd, looked back at her, nodded, and ran down the steps after Iatr.
Klem caught up to Iatr in time to see him snatch a couple of mostly unrotten potatoes off the rotten produce vendor’s cart. These potatoes were probably the most edible thing on the vendor’s cart, and would have fetched the highest price of the lot, had it not been for their curious lack of novelty in this setting. Sad, boring, edible potatoes. They usually just bounced off the glass and back into the courtyard.
“Iatr!” Klem shouted as Iatr continued his sprint towards the writhing throng of protestors chanting the more clever slogan, “Let her go!”
Klem always felt it was unprofessional and risky to charge into a crowd of older adults. Adults always noticed charging children, and in this economy, assumed it meant someone had just been robbed. No one liked getting robbed, so there was some kind of adult-wide conspiracy to grab running children under the assumption that they were up to no good, and a city watchman wouldn’t be far behind. If they weren’t, then the nearest responsible adult would clear things up.
Crowds of adults were dangerous to attract attention in. Klem and Iatr had had more than one close escape after an interested adult decided to become a problem adult.
But this crowd was different. It was high on outrage and a collective expulsion of tension that had been building in the city for months. The squeeze on the leather craftsman’s guild was by far not the only issue that its citizenry had reasons to be angry over. And Ratcliff had become a lightning rod for the expression of public resentment.
No one tried to grab Iatr or Klem. Running children just weren’t the top threat of the moment, and the two found themselves near the edge of the crowd, closest to the barred gates of the Exchequer. Gothic iron-wrought gates provided a view of the courtyard, and were forcibly shut with an iron bar. The guards of the stately building had mostly retreated inside, watching the protests from behind magically shielded glass windows. The protestors had already learned of the consequences of trying to breach the gates, and were holding themselves back.
Iatr held out one of the stolen still perfectly edible potatoes to Klem and pointed at the window with his other hand.
“This won’t work Iatr, you’ve seen what happens when they throw potatoes,” Klem said, having to shout to his friend over the cacophony of repetitive droning.
“It’s the thought that counts Klem,” Iatr said, shouting back, still holding his potato like a magic wand towards the Exchequer windows. “Today a potato, tomorrow we break out my mom from the quarries.”
Klem sighed, feeling real responsibility for the fate of Iatr’s family. He knew that the rules of the street said don’t take on your business partner’s personal troubles... [4]
4 - That’s how you get stabbed over debts that aren’t yours.
But it was Iatr. The closest thing he’d had to family since his mother passed.
Klem took the potato.
The two boys lined up their shots, and the adults beside them gave them some space out of the novelty of seeing two street kids wanting to take a shot at the Exchequer. Allies in cause for the day.
Klem glared at the window, and found himself imagining Iatr’s sister, whom he’d only ever met once but found her frighteningly and confusingly fascinating. He clenched his fist around the potato, which being fairly fresh, really didn’t give him any satisfying squish at all. It was hard.
Klem met Iatr’s gaze, nodded, and they both threw their potatoes with all their might.
And being street kids, they had played the game of toss the potato plenty.
A potato bounced off the glass with a disappointing thud.
And then the window smashed and collapsed inwards when a second potato collided with it.
Klem and Iatr froze. And so did the rest of the crowd. The sound of breaking glass was slightly drowned out by the slow reactions of some of the chanters saying “Let her go! Let her gooo… Let… her… gooo…” as the protestors looked up in wonder and confusion at the broken glass window. The chanting trailed off as the less perceptive protestors began cluing in that something had changed as more and more people fell silent.
One of the adults, who had given Iatr and Klem some space to throw, looked down at the two, then up at the window, and then back at them. The confusion on his face washed away when his mouth broke into a huge grin.
“These two innocent boys broke the evil wizard's spell! With potatoes!” and he laughed and cheered. Glad to have a direction to go in this confusing moment, more people joined in the cheer, and a moment of giddy revelry erupted on the streets as people took in their unexpected and remarkable victory.
“Everyone buy a vegetable to throw into the opening!” yelled a voice. The crowd cheered again at this brilliant idea, and a rush on the rotten produce stall occurred. Adults began pushing past Iatr and Klem on the way to the stall as more people jumped on this novel idea. [5]
5 - Some of those people would later recall that the voice encouraging everyone to buy vegetables at that moment sounded suspiciously like the voice of a young man who was probably the produce merchant’s eldest son.
“Good job boys!” a couple of the local adults said to Iatr and Klem, slapping them on the backs as they went by.
Iatr laughed like a coyote as the rotting vegetables began to rain down on the breach in the Exchequer’s defences. He looked at Klem with eyes wide full of righteous triumph, “We did it! We broke his magic! WE DID THAT!”
Klem felt a strange feeling rising up in his guts. The kind of feeling that a person gets before they know they’re about to throw up, so don’t think too much about it except an unsettling discomfort they can’t quite explain.
“I think we should leave,” he said flatly to Iatr. Who shook his head, clearly wanting to witness the results of their unexpected victory.
“KLEM!” yelled a shrill voice piercing through the noise of the crowd from somewhere across the street.
Klem barely heard the voice, and looked back to see Lucy standing up on the second story stairwell balcony, her finger pointed up the long street leading out of the plaza. Iatr clearly had not heard them.
“WHAT?” Klem yelled back, but he couldn’t tell if Lucy heard him or not. He looked to where they were pointing and couldn’t see anything over the adults that were milling about them, looking for good positions to throw their recently acquired smelly munitions.
A different voice cuts through the crowd, “That’s him! That’s Iatr!” The voice is familiar, but Klem can’t place where he’d heard it before.
Iatr swore, and looked at Klem with wide eyes. “We gotta go.” And turned and bolted.
A larger man with red hair, a bruised face and an enraged expression barrelled out of the crowd and clipped Iatr with a swinging backhanded fist just as the blonde boy broke out into a run.
Iatr was knocked off his feet and went spiralling into a crowd of gaping onlookers. He crashed into them, and one of them went down from the unexpected youth projectile and landed in an undignified tangle on the streets.
“Iatr I told you if I ever got my hands on you I was going to kill you!” shouted Jake Bracken, the hero of the day and the inspiration for today’s protests. Whispers of amazement rippled through the crowd as they clued into this newest and latest drama unfolding in front of them.
This day had gotten exciting.
Vegetables continued to fly towards the broken window, and Iatr scrambled clumsily to his feet, clearly disoriented from the bigger man’s blow.
Klem saw an older boy with red hair with the familiar voice pointing at Iatr from behind Jake, “I told you da! I saw Iatr didn’t I!”
“You sure did, Robert, and I’ll be remembering that you did,” Jake cracked his fists as he advanced on Iatr with the air of a storm god coming to deliver long overdue justice.
“Grab him!” Jake yelled, as Iatr tried to bolt again. But this time, the watching adults had re-joined the conspiracy, and he was quickly restrained. Hands came at Klem as well, as some of the earlier adults who had seen them throw the potatoes clued into the pair’s connection, and he found himself restrained.
Iatr struggled to escape, but his efforts came to an abrupt end when his breath was forcibly expelled from his body by a straight punch to the stomach when Jake closed in. Wheezing and gasping, Iatr collapsed to the street. The conspiratorial adults, seeing their work was done, and not really wanting to be associated with an ongoing assault of a thirteen year old child, let go of Iatr as he fell.
Jake looked at Klem, and then at the men holding him, “Who’s that?”
The conspirators looked at each other, “We don’t know. He was with that one.” One of them said and pointed at Iatr. Klem took that moment to stomp on the man’s foot, who howled in protest. His left arm freed, he grabbed a small blade he always kept in his pocket for just such occasions, and rammed it into the thigh of the man still holding him. The man’s eyes bulged from this surprise attack and his hands went to his thigh as he keeled over and collapsed to the ground, his teeth gritted from the pain of the savage and bloody charley horsing.
“My leg!” the man screamed aloud as he held his hands over the wound in his leg. Onlookers backed away from the unexpected escalation.
“He’s got a knife!” someone yelled, and Jake’s face hardened at the sight of Klem’s violent defiance.
“You put that down now son, and you can join my shit stain of a step son in prison, or you’ll get beaten to death right here right now,” he said savagely.
“You get away from him!” Klem yelled back at Jake, pointing the knife at him, his open hand pointing at Iatr, who was still struggling to regain his breath.
“KLEM!” yelled Lucy’s voice from across the street. Klem ignored them.
The ambient noise of the crowd seemed to fall away as Klem stared at the much bigger red haired man, while keeping his peripheral vision on the people around him, swinging his knife towards any adult who seemed to make a move towards him. No adults actually did though. They came for an angry protest, not a street brawl with bloody knives. These people were mostly middle-class. [6]
6 - Or that’s what they always told themselves they were, despite the long working hours with few breaks.
Jake held his gaze, “Robert, go get Iatr and find something to tie him up with.”
Klem lunged towards Jake, who took a casual step back. “Stay away from him!”
Jake glared at Klem, and slowly pulled out a long knife from behind his back. “I’m taking Iatr so I can get Tessa back. I don’t need you to live to do that.”
Klem felt that feeling in his stomach drop, and the awareness of how deep in over his head started to creep into his awareness. Trying to ignore it with all his might, he kept his grip on the blade. “I’m taking Iatr out of here, and I don’t need you to live to do that,” he replied, his eyes narrowed and voice full of a determination he didn’t entirely feel.
Someone in the crowd ooo’d.
Jake snorted at this bravado, and stood up a little straighter, a cruel amusement in his eyes.
And then, nearby in the crowd, people started screaming.
Fin - for Now
Next chapter;
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