[Memory | Solo] No Such Thing as a Free Meal, Part One

hree pairs of feet swung over the rough brick edge, boots half-untied, soles worn thin, layers of clothes old and threadbare despite the chill. Giggles carried through the crisp night air, the three youths huddled on the roof still full of adrenaline and excitement, their collective breath a hot cloud of changing voices. Dirty hands divvied up the spoils, but there were no jangles of coin, no shiny disks in the starlight, only very old bread and too-soft fruit and meat no one was sure of save for it had been still warm and freshly cooked when pilfered from the unfortunate vendor.

"That was a good slip, y' know, that you gave the City Watch." Mateo was ripping bread, shoving it into hands far darker than his own, crooked smile and chapped lips.

"It's an easy trick—" The half-drow deflected before pausing to gnaw on thick, hard crust, speaking the rest of his words with his mouth full, "—I'll show you th' best corners for hidin'. Jus' stick with me."

"I don't think a bruised ol' apple's ever tasted so good." Niall murmured behind the poor brown sphere, juice on the youngest boy's chin. The tiefling grinned, though, all fangs but yellowed with lack of care, "I ain't thought t' come 'round this street."

"I'm tellin' you both, hittin' th' taverns after hours was my best idea." Kieran managed to speak through more bread, digging around their pile of goods for the half-bottle of practically vinegar'd wine they'd found while they were scavenging. He tried to pretend it tasted delicious when he took a manly swig, but the petite half-elf, smallest of the three urchins, only sputtered and gagged on its sour contents, resisting the urge to toss the bottle onto the busy street below them. He wheezed, adding with a sly whisper, "But I betcha some fancy-ass whore refused that meat at th' Purple Palace an' that's why it was out there, still steamin'. Let's cut it up 'fore it gets any colder."

Mateo giggled first, blushing at the thought, followed by Niall. All three youths cackled at the sorts of ideas the boudoir put in the minds of young boys, sharing glances without further words before stuffing their faces with the only meal they'd managed all day. Pulling a knife from his boot, the wirey tiefling set to work on carving their tender cut of red meat, careful not to let any of the drool that gathered against his forked tongue dribble from his thin lips. Long nails eagerly distributed their prize,

"Ain't gonna get this again for a while, I'm sure. It'll be back t' ol' fish, knowin' us."

"Oh, now. Y' never know. Maybe we're on th' up an' up." Mateo sniggered, using humor to cover his usual pessimism.

All three youths fell quiet, savoring the mystery steak in their own euphoric way, cheeks still flushed and full. Each of them cast wary glances back to the rooftops they'd climbed up to their perch from, still wary of being followed by the belligerent City Guard who'd caught them in the act of snatching rotten fruit from outside one of the many taverns in the Dock Ward. He'd just felt it overly necessary to attempt to chase them down, but the urchins had proven themselves far more knowledgable about the city and far quicker, scrambling through ridiculously narrow alleys and eventually finding an easy way up above the rest of the salty streets. At least, that's what they thought, anyway. That's what they told themselves basking in there success here in the freezing night on top of some stranger's roof, devouring food they hadn't paid for and unwilling to discuss the truth that they had no idea where they'd be sleeping once they were through.

Niall thoughtlessly reached for the wine bottle, having not received Kieran's warning, and took a deep swig—too deep—only to cough and choke. Far more impulsive than his half-drow companion, the boy cursed a string of Abyssal slurs and tossed the bottle roughly downward, growling at the acidic burn of too-old, spoiled wine.

Instead of the expected crash, however, the expensive glass went clink. Thud.

"Hey!" A voice from below—a voice in another damn uniform—shot a glance up at the trio, "You all get down here this instant!"

"Oops."

"Serves y' right. Watch where y're goin', dumbarse."

"Ah, shit. Leave it t' th' fiend t' find more trouble." Taunted Mateo, glaring over the roof and offering the City Watch his middle finger, "Hells nah—come get us!"

"Yeah, we'd like t' see you try!" Kieran's voice added to the rebellion, but he was shoving bread into his coat and another soft, mealy apple into his mouth, pretending to be able to speak around it, "We sho' go."

"Y' think? I guess."

"Oh, I'll come up there alright!" Shouted the watchman, only for another man to join him, following his finger pointing upwards.

"Damn it." The lanky human groaned, shoving the tiefling and elbowing the half-drow, "Lessgo."

"Fo'ow me." The halfbreed garbled, scarfing the sweet, rotten fruit and uncaring of how sticky it made him. Up on his feet, he began to carefully skitter over rooftops, ignoring the warnings from below.

"Y' gotta plan?" Niall whimpered, unwilling to admit his fear of heights in this moment, if ever, blue-skinned and yellow-bellied as he was often accused of.

"Always." Kieran thumbed his nose and turned, scrambling further up the roof they were on before dropping down to the next one, making his way over several businesses this way and pausing to offer a hand or give his companions an impatient hard time. The guard had been pretty pissed off at the three youths, or so it seemed, because voices raised from a few side streets and threats were made. They were being pursued. Over a tossed wine bottle.

The Dock Ward must have been as boring as an archivist's library at this hour for Watch to think a handful of teenaged urchins were really worth this much trouble. The gods only knew they really weren't. Ridiculous!

Still, the three boys kept movingMateo was already huffing and everywhere the tiefling's clawed feet touched seemed to rattle with sound. Kieran hissed his displeasure, aware that he was far more adept at keeping quiet when he was alone, "Y' all are fuckin' noisy. We're gonna drop down over there—" Dark fingers pointed to another building, "—an' then there's a sewer entrance."

"Oh, d' we have to?"

"Shut yer head, Matty."

"Fine."

The petite half-drow led the way, slower now, sneaking along the loose tiles of some dilapidated, abandoned old shop. Some spots were still icy and he kept offering his hand to his friends should they need it, only to have Niall smack it away and Mateo glare at him. Shrugging, he pressed ahead, not realizing the distance he'd soon put between himself and his two friends. Reaching the edge of the roof, the dark-skinned halfbreed tugged up his hood over his white hair and cautioned a glance over the roof's thick tiles, violet gaze taking in the dark, narrow alley below that stunk of fish and offal even this high up the ground.

His stomach recoiled but he simply clenched his jaw and watched for movement. Voices told him guards were close, but the stench told him no one wanted to come down this way.

"Fuuuuck, what is that—"

"Our exit."

"No, I—"

"Let's go." Kieran grunted, all but shoving the tallest of the three down first, the tiefling, "Get goin'. You gotta help lil' me."

"Uh huh. Arsehole." Growled the squeamish creature, all but gurgling his horror once he hit the gutter that ran along the side of the narrow space between buildings, full of refuse and salt water and he didn't even want to fathom what else. Reaching up, he helped Mateo down next. The poor thing barely made it down before he bent to one side and heaved up that fine, fine piece of meat and all that stale bread, whining about the loss before he wiped his face on the back of a dirty sleeve and tugged his coat over his nose.

"This is worse than being arrested. I can't see a thing, either."

"Have y' been t' jail? There's nothin' worth seein' anyway here." Kieran grumbled, practically having to fall into his tall friend's waiting arms. It was embarrassing. While he was light on his feet, he didn't trust himself to hit the ground right from this height. Not yet.

The sewage was practically overwhelming, but it wouldn't be the first time the half-drow had needed a quick and easy escape. It probably wouldn't be the last, "I can get us out near th' beach an' we can clean up real easy."

"Yeah. In the freezin' cold. I like my balls where they are, man."

"Y' have 'em?"

"Sod off."

Sniggering and taunting each other, the two other urchins reluctantly helped their crafty friend slide away a huge, round, decorated grate in the darkness. It was loud and difficult, and Niall heard the voices getting closer, urging them to hurry.

Once the grate had been moved away just enough for them all to squeeze through, hissing and gagging, all three youths slipped away into the hot, oppressively horrible unknown of the sewer. The squelching sounds of their landing was just about the least disgusting part of the immediate experience,

"This way. Follow me." Kieran managed, wheezing before he pulled up his own clothes over his face. If he'd still been hungry, if he'd planned on eating all he'd shoved in his pockets, he wasn't hungry anymore and he wasn't going to eat a thing that had even touched this air. No way. No how.

"Safe and sound. Mostly." Mateo admired, snatching the tiefling's wrist because he was human and practically blind compared to the other two.

"Well, unless the rats eat us instead of the city guard, yes. Let's hurry."

The half-drow had begun to learn the markings left behind on the metal walls, and he began to turn them toward the terminus that spilled into the sea, instructing his friends on being quiet and careful not to disturb any strange side-tunnels or too large rats. By the time the three were sure they'd pass out from the smell and the heat, fresh, briny air brushed their senses and tickled their hair—a promise of escape back out into the frigid, starry night.

((To be continued shortly ... | 1745 words in this post | 349 gp/xp))