The Fly Guild (6 page)

“Move faster, maggot,” urged Red
eye. The boy was taking a lot of time feeling for his next handhold.

“There are basically three sections
to the course, which you can see on the wall. The easy part,” he pointed to the
section the boy was on now, “the middle, and then what we call the slide.
Everything over there is so wet, you usually just slide right off of it. Hardly
anyone makes it to that section anyway, well, other than Lacoris and a few that
have gotten lucky on occasion. In fact, most of us don’t make it much into the
middle section before we fall.”

Quinton eyed the line that at times
ventured very high up on the wall. “Anyone ever get hurt doing this?”

“All the time,” Teli replied,
wincing as the boy lost his handhold, hung by one hand for a minute, then
dropped ten feet to the ground, landing on his feet and rolling onto his back.

“Next,” motioned Red eye.

“If you’re not hurt bad, Master
Grubbs will patch you up. But sometimes maggots have been hurt real bad.”

“What happens to them?”

Teli didn’t say anything. “Failure
has a high price here. There are streets full of kids out there who can replace
us. Those who can get the job done get to stick around for another day. Those
who can’t end up in the river.”

The river, Quinton thought. It must
be clogged with bodies. With the disease, the fights, the occasional Orc raid
and now this, there were plenty of bodies to feed the fish with.

Quinton watched as each maggot
tried the wall. The maggot that went the furthest and the least furthest marked
their place by standing along the opposite wall from where they fell. Anyone
falling in between went back down the alley away from the gate and watched the
others. If someone set a new mark, either shorter or longer, they would replace
one of the boys along the wall and send the other one back to the group. As the
number of boys grew fewer, the boy with the shortest mark began to look more
and more worried, while the boy with the longest mark started dreaming of
bread.

Another boy fell in between the two
marks after barely making it into the middle section. There were only six boys
left. A large older boy stepped up to the wall, turned around to bend over, put
some dirt on his hands and stood up. His eyes met Quinton’s and he sneered.
Quinton recognized him as one of the boys who had beaten him the day Master
Sands had caught him stealing. He didn’t think such a portly boy could climb
that well, but he made it almost to the furthest mark before his toehold gave
way and sent him crashing to the ground in a heap. He was slow to get up but
dusted himself off, sneered at Quinton, then returned to the group.

Teli stepped up to the wall and
sighed. He looked over at Master Red eye, who impatiently nodded for him to
start. The boy gingerly placed his hands on some rocks and pulled himself up.
Quinton could tell right away he had no idea what he was doing. His balance was
all wrong; he was stretching way too far and was placing too much reliance on
his feet and not using his hands. He slowly wove along the line but hadn’t yet
made it to the short mark when his foot slipped out and he fell off, landing on
his heels. He quickly looked behind him to see where he placed. He was several
feet short of the short mark. He looked down at the ground dejectedly and took
his place along the wall, releasing the other boy to return to the others.

The remaining boys went, each
placing easily between the two marks. Now it was Quinton’s turn, the last boy
Red eye motioned for. He carefully studied the wall, noting each place that
looked like a possible handhold or foothold. He knew that once you were pressed
against the wall, it was harder to find spots, and sometimes your eyes could
play tricks on you as you desperately searched for the next spot to grab hold
of.

“Stay on the line and get moving,”
snapped Red eye. “If you come off the line, it counts as a fall.”

Quinton turned to the wall, grabbed
two stones and pulled himself up. He followed the line rather easily for a
while. There were plenty of handholds and toeholds, but you had to be careful
to plot your next several moves in advance, lest you end up nearly off the
line. He wondered if you could go backward, but Red eye once again seemingly
read his mind. “And you can’t go backward.”

He continued to plot his movements
as far as he could before changing the positions of any of his hands or feet.
He moved as quickly as possible, but that didn’t keep Red eye from scolding him
every so often. The easy section came and went. As he moved into the middle
section, plotting each move became even more crucial. Some of the boys started
catcalling and yelling, trying to distract him. How sporting, he thought. He
was already past Teli, and felt bad for resigning the poor boy to whatever
punishment was handed out, but he had had enough punishment lately and it was
someone else’s turn.

His fingers began to ache from the
strain as the handholds became smaller and smaller. He tried to keep his body
balanced among the four points. He slipped a few times but was able to quickly
recover. The minutes passed, the catcalls faded and he felt water dripping on
him from above. He had reached the slide section.

He paused and did his best to study
where to move next. This hesitation was greeted with another threat from Red
eye, but he ignored him for another moment. There appeared to be an easy path
right along the line, but he noticed that after so far, the handholds
disappeared completely, from what he could tell. There was a more difficult
path, but he would be precariously close to leaving the line at times. But if
he made it, he would be in a position to try the final ascent up the slippery
wall.

“Move it, maggot, or I’ll count
your fall as right there,” shouted Red eye.

Quinton took a deep breath and
opted for the more difficult path. He inched from one hold to another. The boys
stopped catcalling and began to murmur in excitement. He moved up and across
several more feet. At one point, he couldn’t see the line anymore and wondered
if he had left it, but Red eye said nothing, so he moved on. He could see the
holds below from the alternate path. He was right; had he taken that path, he would
have been stuck. But now there were a few narrow cracks to stick his fingers in
to and a few stones that stuck out just enough to put a toe on, though they
were covered in algae.

He moved his right hand out, found
the crack and locked his fingers into it. His left hand found another crack
slightly above that. He carefully placed his toe on a small outcropping and
found another one for the other foot. He was pressed against the wall as much
as possible. He managed to slide over a few more feet using similar cracks and
he found the line again; this time, it went almost straight up.

Quinton glanced up and could see
the bell fifteen feet above him. The climb was now agonizingly slow. Every
crack and toehold was damp or slippery. The wall seemed to lean out, as if
trying to dump off this climbing parasite.

Red eye continued to yell curses
and threatened to end his climb many times, but he ignored him and pressed on.
The other boys began cheering him on. Carefully, he searched out every crack
and felt along the wall for every small outcropping on which he could later
place a foot to steady himself. His fingers were aching and bleeding in places,
and his knees were bruised and sore, but he kept slowly pushing upward.

The handholds were very tenuous,
and his right foot kept slipping off its small perch, threatening to bring him
down, but each time, he was able to replace it and keep to the wall. He could
see the bell as he kept his face pressed to the stone. He thought he could
probably reach it, but to remove one hand to try to ring it was a huge risk. He
wasn’t sure what to do.

“You have ten seconds, maggot,”
said Red eye, “And then you are done.”

Quinton thought about reaching for
the bell, then decided instead to try to find one more crack to pull himself up
into reach of it. He put most of his weight on his left hand, which had the
best grip, then did a quick search with his right hand. He was starting to lose
his grip with his left hand when his right hand found a surprisingly big hole
that had rough stone in it. He grabbed hold and pulled himself up another foot,
finding a similar hole for his left hand. His feet finally slipped out, but his
hands held him. The boys were yelling like mad below him, though he wasn’t sure
whether they were cursing him or cheering him anymore. Using only his left hand
to hold his weight, he reached out and slapped the bell.

The bell slapped from side to side,
ringing out crazily from his blow. The boys were cheering below. He regrabbed
with his right hand and began working his way down the slippery wall, which
took some time. When he was within five feet of the ground, he kicked out from
the wall and landed on his feet, exhausted.

He was mobbed by the other maggots,
all of whom were slapping him on the back and mussing his hair.

“Silence!” yelled Red eye. The
noise immediately subsided. He approached Quinton, the boys parting before him
like the waves part for a large ship. “Do you understand what you have just
done?” he said, anger in his voice.

Quinton looked at him for a moment,
then replied. “Yes, I have won, Master Red eye.” For a brief moment, Quinton
thought he saw a smile start to form in one corner of the man’s mouth, but then
it was gone.

The man’s bloodshot eyes went wild
for a moment, his pale hand reaching into his robe. Quinton took a step back as
it flashed back out. In it was a large piece of bread. The boy gladly took the
bread, and the boys cheered once more. He stuffed a large piece in his mouth
and was so elated he began handing out chunks to those around him, which
increased the cheering even more. Red eye turned away and walked back down the
alley to the door.

“Enjoy your bread, maggots. Then
it’s time for work.”

The boys lucky enough to get some
bread quickly chewed it and turned to follow Red eye back through the door. The
sky had lightened, and the first hint of sunshine was beginning to shine.
Quinton strolled over to Teli, who was still dejectedly standing in the spot
that marked where he had fallen. He held out his hand and handed the boy a piece
of bread that he had palmed.

“Kept a piece for you,” he said.

A sad smile came to his face that
quickly faded. He took the piece of bread, popped it in his mouth, then began
walking towards the doorway.

“I’ll teach you how to climb,”
Quinton told him, trying to cheer him up.

Teli nodded. “If I survive the
punishment, I would like that.”

Quinton wondered again what the
boy’s punishment would be. Beating? That seemed to be a popular choice. They
strolled back into the building and down a different hallway than they came
from. Red eye stood by a door open to the outside. Quinton could see
townspeople strolling by and the occasional oxen or horse clattered by pulling
a cart. Each boy approached the door and was handed a small bag. Red eye handed
him the bag and pushed him out the door.

“Fill it up, or don’t bother coming
back,” he warned.

Quinton was puzzled. “Fill it up
with what, Master Red eye?” Some other boys nearby laughed as they moved past
him.

“Stolen goods,” he said flatly.
“Valuables. Silver. Food. Whatever. Just fill it up.” He slammed the door, and
Quinton could hear the bolt lock it in place.

He turned to look for Teli, but he
didn’t see him.

“Come on, maggot,” said another boy
with brown curly hair. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Consider it payment for
the bread you gave me.” He started to trot down the street. All the boys were
fanning out down several different roads and alleyways.

Quinton looked at his empty bag,
then hurried to catch up. “Hey, wait up.” The boy was moving quickly, his curly
hair bouncing with every step.

“We’ll go down past Turnbull, then
head for the area between the docks and the Old Quarter. There’s usually pretty
good pickings down there.”

Quinton wanted to ask a question,
but the boy sped up and started weaving through people, carts and animals, most
of them headed for the market in the middle of town. Even though it was still
early, farmers had left well before sunrise to make sure they got a good spot
to sell their wares.

The boys meandered through narrow
streets and an occasional alley. Quinton had never been in this part of town
before, so he tried to pay attention to landmarks and unique buildings so that
he might find his way back if he were separated. The crowds thinned as they
moved further from the center of town, but there were still quite a few people
walking around, most of them not very friendly looking. At last the other boy
stopped at a corner. Across the street was a woman standing on a small box,
preaching to passersby. Her hair was dark and pulled back in a ponytail bound
with a small wisp of white ribbon. Her voice carried across the rough
cobblestone street.

“The time to take responsibility
for our plight is now,” she said loudly to those passing by, none of whom paid
her any attention. “Our children lie destitute in the street while the lords
get fat on our work. Will you not lend a helping hand to those in need?”

The other boy smiled and looked
over at Quinton. “Turnbull,” he said. “Lady Turnbull. Runs some sort of church
or somethin’. Always yelling at people about their evil lives and the poor
condition of us childrens.” He turned to listen to her for a bit more, then
added, “We don’t never steal from her. Not sure why, we just don’t. Not that
Fist, Master Fist that is, ever said not to, it’s just we kind of decided on
our own to not rob her.” He listened for a few more moments, then looked back
over at Quinton. “Name’s Huck. I’m Magpie’s maggot. You probably don’t know who
that is, but you’ll learn ’em all soon enough. Anyway, here’s our setup. Know
what invisible duck is?”