Chapter One: Slum Pickings

Chapter One: Slum Pickings


The crow shifted its feathers, making fine adjustments in order to glide steadily on the breeze. High above Thaine's capital city of Roatan the bird's beady black eyes scanned its surroundings. In the center the palace courts stood on the crest of a hill, its stone slatted roof supported by massive timber columns. Various human-things scrambled this way and that, sometimes carrying food. The crow knew better than to try and take a morsel, those ones protected their food.

Tipping its left wing down, the crow began to bank towards other sections of the city, passing the manicured palace gardens and the ornate residents of the Noble's Quarter, before gliding over the vine encrusted inner wall. The calm of the inner city ended at the wall, as a series of large Bazaars streamed out from the central district like rays around the sun. Largest of all was the Market Square, a massive cobbled stretch of land surrounded on all sides by stores and stalls that sold wares ranging from exotic furniture to love incantations. Hardly any of its square mile surface was left visible to the crow as hundreds of people and dozens of ox drawn carriages pushed and shoved their way through the square.

Discouraged by the bustling crowds, the crow continued onwards to its favorite hunting grounds. The rancid smell of Slumside preceded the crows entry into the poorest section of Thaine. Veiled in the shadow of the Outer Wall, dilapidated buildings clung close together, seeming to grow off each other like fungai. Harsh weather and poor construction left most of the buildings with gaping holes in their walls and roofs. Some had hasty repairs made from trash and discarded pieces of wood, while others were left at the mercy of erosion, their occupants either uncaring or long dead. Throughout Slumside, a maze of winding alleyways were spread out in every direction without any apparent organization, often coming to a dead end or becoming so narrow that only a child could squeeze through.

The dismal state of Slumside did not matter in the slightest to the crow. Here there was an abundance of food. Rats thrived in the hollow walls of almost every building, and dead animals were frequently left out to rot in the street. Occasionally the crow had even feasted on beggars that had died from either starvation or the cold.

As it descended the wind died down and the crow began to more frequently flap its wings. Flying low over the roofs of the buildings, it scanned for prey. Spotting movement from its periphery, the crow's eyes locked onto the nearby rooftop where two small and very dirty human-things stared back intently. A sudden crack accompanied by a blinding pain tore the crow’s world asunder. Falling, falling towards the earth out of control, its heart beat accelerated to the point of bursting. Pain and confusion turned quickly to lethargy, before the crow's surroundings faded into nothingness.

Ratta glared angrily at the other boy who was proudly holding up his prize. "Keep it quiet, idjit, we's suppos'd  t'be quiet". The other boy grinned, not at all chastened.

"See tha' shot? I's got the best aim o' Slumside".

"Aye, and now yew got no rock"

The boy's grin faded as he considered this. "I kin pretend real good." His face became contemplative as he began to pick his nose.

Frowning, Ratta turned to resume watching. He squinted his eyes, trying to spot movement in the dank, fog strewn alleyways below. The fist sized rock felt smooth in his hand; he had chosen this one specially and he wasn't about to waste it on a bird. He knew the other Littles scattered all along the surrounding rooftops each had rocks of their own, but theirs were mostly made up of the chipped plaster from the cheap walls of Slumside. His, however, was a cobblestone from Crafts Street. He had found it dislodged under a cart near where he was begging two days before. The stone was about all he got from Crafts Street that day, or the next day for that matter. His stomach rumbled with that ever-present feeling of emptiness and he wondered if his friend would share the crow once they found a place to cook it. To distract himself, he admired the rock's green and grey speckle of colors and spoke to his companion.

"Eh Snot."

Snot looked up, his index finger still knuckle deep into his namesake. "Unh?"

"Think Jaws will catcha fish today?"

Snot pulled his finger from his nose and inspected his sticky prize. After a moment of internal debate on whether to eat it or not, he decided to flick it away. As he wiped his hand across the assorted rags he used as a shirt he looked up at Ratta.

"You know if'n Jaws getsa gabbin' he kin talk a drunk from 'is bottle. He's tha best hook that's ever been. So long as the Shineys don't see 'em, he kin gets a fish".

"But if'n the Shineys did see 'em. Ow'd we know he wont go gabbin' to them and bring 'em back 'ere?" Ratta gripped his rock nervously.

"Don't yew worry 'bout 'em, Ratta. Jaws, he's wiley. 'ed know tha'd be a quick trip to the' gutturs if'n".

The pigeon call they had been waiting for interrupted Snot, and both the young boys instantly tensed. Ratta looked towards the nearest rooftop and saw three other Littles staring intently towards the right. He strained his eyes to see the faraway figures. As they walked closer, he could recognize Jaws by his distinct and goofy gait. Behind him, an enormously fat man waddled, attempting to keep up. His pace, however, was much slower than the boy's, as he relied heavily on a cane to support his weight.

Ratta looked at Snot, grinning, "Looks like our hook caught a big fishy". Snot snickered quietly. They could faintly hear Jaws's legendary jabbering echoing up towards them as the forms came closer.

Jumping, skipping, and spinning at random intervals, the slim figure of Jaws lithely lead the man down the alleyway, "Just this way, and yew will sey, the jibin Jaws don't lead astray... I made that lil' jingle up myself 'taint that a piff!".

The man cleared his throat, causing his rather pronounced double chin to jiggle ever so slightly. "I say, young man, are you quite sure you know where he is?".

Jaws spun back towards the man, and instantly tripped over some invisible obstacle. Just before he fell face first into the dirt, he performed an acrobatic summersault and leapt into a standing salute, chest pumped out and eyes strait forward in mock military fashion. "Yes sa'h! As sure as I know me own mum sa'h!"

The man's expression became conflicted as he considered whether Jaws did indeed know who his mother was. As he eyed the alleyway dubiously, he pulled a kerchief from his breast pocket to wipe away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. "It's just that I wouldn't expect a merchant of fine books to be located in such a…" the awkward man shuddered as he tried to find a polite word for the place, "such an un-renovated area."

Jaws twisted his head askew like a confused dog, "Y'know, I neva' thought about that. Old man's one of those 'centrics I suppose, always been a bit cooksy if'n yew ask me". Jaws crossed his eyes and made the crazy gesture with his hand before bursting into a bout of giggles.

The man persisted, "And you're quite certain that he has the book. The red one with golden dragons running opposite directions on the top and bottom?"

"Yep, that's the one. Seen it myself, couldn't read it o none o that, but I seen it. Old chap wouldn't shut up about winnin' it in some card game. Yew can see fer yerself, he's just up that ways a bit." Jaws motioned towards the alleys just below where Ratta, Snot, and the other Littles were perched.

Somewhat reassured, the man gathered up what he considered to be courage and continued to follow his enthusiastic guide into the stagnant, trash strewn world that was Slumside.

As they reached the place where three other alleyways converged just below all of the Littles, Jaws's skipping and spinning slowed. He once more spun towards the man, but this time his expression was one of unsettling seriousness.

"Righto, me friend. I'm sorry to sey yew don't go no further. Put that coin bag thats been janglin' at yer waist on the ground, all them rings too. Then yew just head back to yer pretty lil' merchant's square, no worse off."

The man was stunned for a moment, unable to fully understand. "Wait… Are you, are you trying to rob me?" He guffawed derisively, "You little whelp, what makes you think I would give a sniveling little piece of scum like you my purse". He then lifted his cane as if to strike the boy.

At this, Jaws nimbly stepped out of the cane's reach and pointed up. The man looked and saw over a dozen young boys and girls staring down at him from the rooftops of the nearest buildings. Each grime covered child had their rocks at the ready, with the exception of Snot, who aimed his bird as a substitute for his missing rock. All of the Littles made sure that they were visible to the man below. None of them spoke, nor moved; they had realized from past experiences that this was much more intimidating.

As the man stared up in open mouthed shock, Jaws calmly continued. "Me friends up ther' don' miss. Kin kill a rat from twenty paces. Drop tha stuff and go."

The man's face became purple with indignation, "this is ridiculous, you are all children! I am leaving, WITH my purse I might add."

Jaws retreated a few more feet; many a hook had been knocked out cold by a poorly thrown stone. From his perch, Ratta started aiming at the man, cursing his stubbornness. He was more concerned about losing his new favorite rock than hurting the man. All the Littles had gone to past slumfishings that had turned messy. But that was the fish's fault, Ratta thought. Besides, Jaw's claim about their accuracy was vastly exaggerated. Fewer than half the stones ever reached the fish, so none of the Littles really knew whether they hit them or not. How could you feel bad if you didn't even know if you hit them?

The man continued to stand rooted to the spot, despite his claims of leaving. Just as it looked like he was finally about to go, Jaws's voice echoed out from where he hiding in the shadows. "Yew wanna die today, tis yer' choice. Don' matter to us."

With this, the last of the man's nerve failed him and his shoulders slumped in resignation. He untied the bag from his waist, slipped off all of his rings, and placed them on the ground. He then cautiously began to waddle back the way he had come, keeping a fearful eye towards the tile cracked rooftops.

As soon as the man was out of sight, all of the Littles swarmed down the abandoned buildings, leaping over rotted stairs and dodging the rusted nails that seemed to jut from every support beam. Down at the street they stopped six feet from the purse and rings. All of them still had their rocks, and they eyed each other warily. This was the most dangerous part of slumfishing, the divvying.

Snot and Ratta stood with their backs to each other, trying to look threatening. The mob parted a little, and Jaws walked into the center of the circle, hands up and empty in a pacifying gesture. "Don' worry boy'os and gels, yell all get yer piece."

He looked around the circle. At around 15, Jaws was by far the oldest of the dozen Littles gathered. The rest couldn't be much older than 12 or 13, and at least a couple of them were as young as six. They each wore tattered rags and carried with them the stink of desperation. Though Jaws feared each of the slumfishings that he organized every few months, he still wished they all could do it more often. Each time, he and many Littles like him could get enough to eat for weeks.

The Shineys wouldn't allow it though. If there was too much fishing, the Shineys would come and raid Slumside. Littles could easily avoid their patrols, but the increased heat would cause the Bigs and even some of the gangs to get mad. Last time that happened several Littles died. Some of the others, Jaws shuddered at the thought, worse…

A girl named Scab spoke up, "get on w'id it Jaws, Shineys cu'd be 'ere any minute". Jaws walked over to the bag and emptied it on the ground. The clinks of dozens of coins hitting the cracked pavement caused every Little to look on greedily.

Though there were only around ten silvers amongst the copper coins, Jaws tried to divvy the loot into equal piles, with a double portion for himself since he was the hook. If one pile didn't have a silver in it, he would put in extra coppers or one of the plain looking rings.

Reasonably satisfied with the portions, he pocketed his share in the merchant's purse and handed each Little their cut. Ratta and Snot took their share eagerly. They only admired the shiny copper and silver for a moment before secreting them away in one of the many pockets hidden within their rags.

Satisfied that no one was being cheated, the Littles began to discard their rocks and disperse, with the exception of Ratta, who still kept his cobblestone as a keepsake, and Snot, who still carried dead bird by its neck.

Feeling like rich kings, Ratta and Snot strolled down the alleyway talking about what type of food they were going to buy with their coins. Each of them knew that most of their new wealth would go to pops anyways, but for the moment they were enjoying their victory.

"Mmmm, 'ow bout one o d'em meat pies from Baker's Street? Y'know, wi'd the pork 'n beef 'n chickens." Snot licked his lips at the savory thought.

"Nah, don' think so. Nattle said she saw a cook 'round Baker's chasen' a cat. If'n I want cat, I'll ketchit me'self."

"'Ow bout bread?" Snot replied in a sarcastic tone, "No cats in d'em right?"

Ratta grinned mischievously, "Who knows? Them cooks kin be wiley".

Snot snorted, "Yew worry too much. Go on tell me wat' yer gonna get."

"Fruit, the big ones wi'd the stripes and those little green crunchy ones."

"Fruit? Yer gonna buy fruit, wot's the matter with yew, why'd yew eat fruit?"

Ratta's mouth was now watering. "Cuz, they sweet 'n juicy 'n crunchy. I like fruit."

Snot shook his head in disbelief, "Well yew kin 'ave yer fruit. Gimme the meat pie, don' care if there's cat init!"

"Wot's this 'bout meat pies?" Both boys turned immediately, and all thought of food evaporated from their minds. The question had come from a Big that was standing half concealed in the shadows less than ten feet from them. Ratta thought he recognized the Big, but couldn't remember if his name was Zits or Kits.

Nonetheless, Ratta came up with a quick response, "nuthin' just dreamin' aloud is all, haven't had a meat pie since forever."

"Yew 'ear that Ben?" The Big looked towards the shadows and another, larger Big emerged, "the poor boy says he's never 'ad a meat pie afore. Sad dontcha think?"

Ben's voice was much lower and gruffer than the other Big's. "I think they's lying Kits".

Kits feigned surprise, before smiling maliciously. "Told yew them Littles were fishin' today".

Upon hearing this, Ratta threw the cobblestone that he had been concealing as hard as he could, with its impact smashing Ben in the face before the Big could even see it coming. He fell screaming and thrashing on the ground while clutching his now bloody left eye. As soon as Ratta had let the stone fly, he and Snot, without needing to think about it, split up and sprinted in opposite directions down the winding alleys. Kits cursed and chased after Snot, while Ben lifted himself off the ground and charged after Ratta like a mad bull.

Ratta ducked and weaved through the streets he had grown up in, dodging pieces of trash and leaping over large potholes. As long as he could remember, he had been running; from Bigs, gangs, and all manner of seedy sorts that populated Slumside, and though the frantic fear never left Ratta, he had gotten good at running away.

He knew this particular alley, and that it would lead to Merchant's Square. Gotta get to the open. 'least there the Shiney's will get 'em if he tries to beat me t'death The thought of the Big being arrested by the City Guard gave Ratta a small measure of satisfaction as the alley took an abrupt left turn.

As soon as he turned, however, Ratta knew he was in trouble.  Several wooden crates had been discarded and piled into a large heap, effectively blocking the alley. The pile was far too high to jump, and climbing over would give Ben time to catch up. He looked desperately for a way to get over the crates without slowing. As adrenaline furiously pumped into his brain, the seconds until he reached blocked alley seemed to stretch longer. Just 20 feet before the obstacle, Ratta saw the slight protrusion of a broken metal framing rod, which had bent loose of the cheap plaster and stuck out just several feet over the crates.

Ratta put on an extra burst of speed, running at an angle towards the space of wall just beside the crates. As he neared the side of the building, Ratta jumped, hiking his knee high towards his chest, and used the friction from his bare feet on the plaster to kick off the wall towards the extended bar. Only the tips of his fingers could grip the bar, and even then just for just a split second. Yet this was long enough to swing him over the barricade, landing on hands and feet on the other side.

As he continued to run, Ratta hardly had time to marvel at his ability and good fortune before he heard Ben crash though the crates behind him, screaming an unintelligible roar of what Ratta could only assume was a death threat. The Big was furious and looking for blood.

The alley twisted to the right, then left, then right again, and Ratta felt his lungs begin to burn. Though Ratta was an excellent runner, each of Ben's strides equaled two of his own. Ben was catching up fast.

Just a little more, a little more. Finally, after another sharp turn, the light from the Market Square penetrated the darkness of the Slumside alley. To Ratta, it was if the gods themselves just opened a doorway. He put on a burst of speed, delving into depths of his physical stamina he didn't know he had.

Flinging himself into the light of the open square, Ratta was momentarily blinded. Unfortunately, this caused him to run at full speed into the considerable girth of a person passing by.

With an oumpfh the unfortunate stranger absorbed the form of the flying youth, barely managing to keep standing. Ratta lifted his head out of the folds of the man's gut, and to his astonishment, realized he recognized the man. It was the fish! Out of all the people in Roatan, he had run into the fish.

No way could 'e member me, saw me but a second At first it seemed as if this was true as the man seemed genuinely shocked, after a split second however, the man's eyes narrowed.

A plump hand snared Ratta's arm before he could make a run for it, and a wicked smile spread across the man's plump features. "You filthy brat, I'll have your thieving hand cut off. Guards! Guards!" The man's free hand waved to a passing patrol. The guards saw it and began pushing their way through the crowd towards them.

Instinct, more than any other sense, caused Ratta to suddenly duck. Ben, similarly blinded by the light of the square, erupted from the alley, plowing into the fat merchant and sending them both into a rolling heap.

In his surprise, the man had unclenched his hold on Ratta, and, upon being freed, he took off. Melting away into the crowds, Ratta caught a last glimpse of the guards disentangling Ben and the merchant, before placing the semi-conscious Big in irons.



*Note: I haven't yet finished with this chapter. I'll try to get to it soon. Hope you all have enjoyed so far.