In Which Theo Goes For A Walk

Theo walked absently at first, no destination in mind, only half-thinking. He was brought back to the present when he narrowly avoided striding into a severe-looking woman emerging from an intersecting street to his right. He shook his head to wake himself up, and from the depths of his mind came the reminder that people were out to get him. He needed to stay alert. It was easy enough to get lynched in the city without wandering around in a daze. Maybe this had been a mistake, Theo thought, and rocked on his heel hesitant over whether to go on or turn for home. He shook himself again. He was being silly. He'd got into one mugging. That was practically miraculous luck for a nobody like himself living in the grimy corners of a big metropolis. He squared himself and strode on with a bit of his old confidence restored.

Idly he remembered the great, colourful, irrepressible youth he had been not a million years ago. Of course he had had his dispensation from his parents then. Theo hadn't been kicked out, as such. His parents had merely hinted that a boy of his age could really spread his wings out in Salrissa these days, and surely he'd start to find the smalltown life of Narnberg stifling soon? And here was some money his mother had put aside to see him started off. And did he know they were ever so short of running boys in the big city offices of the press and the publishing houses lately? Something to think about. Well, Theo had thought about it. He knew his parents really just wanted him to go and start making his own way. He was 16, it was time. They had a narrow view of life, that involved solid but dull work for forty years, before settling into an equally dreary retirement, along with making a home and family somewhere down the line. His father, no doubt, was already cultivating a healthy disappointment in the boy, not that he said anything. He simply sat reading fiscal reports in his chair, and his mother did all the talking. Theo wasn't interested, but he was interested in the city. It was true that he did hate life in the grey little town, and the city would be and adventure. A wiser, cynical part of him noted how this was quite the cliché view of wide-eyed and naïve smalltown protagonists in any number of stories. He ignored it, took his parents money, and left with their half-sincere blessing.

Salrissa was an enlightenment. To his credit, Theo was already fairly insightful in his assessment of 'real' life (Narnberg was barely life at all). Nevertheless, even he was somewhat thrilled by just how much bigger the scope of everything was in such a place. Such was evident when he arrived back at his tiny attic flat on his fourth night in the city.
"I just got propositioned by a whore!" he exclaimed.
Theo's flatmate, another youth named Michaelson, was only a year or so older, and still had an air of innocence about himself, so he took every opportunity to play the jaded veteran to the one person he could.
"Well, don't get too flattered about it, that's what they do," he observed.
"Yeah, but it's only eight o'clock... I didn't think they'd come out that early!"
Michaelson laughed.
"When did you think they came out, Theo? The dark of the night, when all good men are asleep in their beds? Hah."
Theo looked a little bashful.
"Yeah, alright, fair point... That's what's so great about the city – everything so readily available."
He'd admit now that the joke was probably an attempt to seem less of an innocent youngster, but it came out painfully stupid. Michaelson tutted.
"You don't want to sleep with prostitutes," he said. "That's one thing you really don't get into." He looked up at Theo for a second. "You're a virgin, right? Well for god's sake, don't go losing it to a hooker. Prostitutes are cold, there's nothing romantic there. Save it for someone good. Or, at the very least, go find some sloshed girl at a tavern to show you what to do. At least you'll both enjoy it and there won't be any grotty transactions afterward."
Theo regretted that he hadn't taken this advice.

There were a couple of fallen bricks in the road. Theo kicked one maliciously, remembering the like one in the alley to which he owed the sting of his face. This whole city was falling down. Similar debris littered the streets of the city, in the manner of the last dregs of snowfall from some strange dusty freeze. Any building contractor with an ounce of wisdom knew to keep friendly with the council, as a perpetual need for renovation, demolition and construction work ground from the decaying metropolis. Right now they were building a new Academy of the Arts over on Crown's Mound, since the old one had collapsed into a pit the month before.

There was another big site just off Hollamen Square. A huge square of brown earth spread some 400 yards between Morton Street, Hollamen Chase and Hollamen Row which bordered it on three sides. Coming up Morton Street now toward Hollamen Chase, Theo realised that as he was intending to turn right, he could cut diagonally across the land and save himself five minutes. There was a fence around the whole area, of course, but there was nothing blocking the big openings for workers that punctured it here and there. It was abandoned at present, which was no surprise. Builders knocked off at all hours, everyone knew, and in Verne a site could be deserted for months at a time, as the council faffed about re-evaluating finance. Theo shrugged and quickly cut in to the open gateway and started to make his way along the field of dirt.

There was nothing to suggest what this place was going to be, not structure had been erected yet. The place was merely a field of cleared earth, with mounds of shale and sand overturned here and there, although deep trenches had been dug in a gridlike fashion across the middle of the ground. Theo's path now sloped into one of these trenches.

"Turn around."
The voice was calm and the words spoken so softly and suddenly Theo was only half sure he heard it. When he turned, there was a man before him, standing atop the banked sand, ten feet away or less. He wore a heavy cloak with the hood up, but his face was unhidden. It was middle-aged but youthful underneath, and warm.
"Who are you?"
"A friend."
Theo's eyes twitched with a smirk.
"I never trust anyone who gives that introduction," he said.
"Very wise," said the man. "But alright. Call me an associate."
"Ok. And why are we associating?"
"Because I want to help you out."
"Go on."
"Three men wanted to kill you."
Theo stiffened and narrowed his eyes, but in truth he had already suspected the connection.
"They thought you knew something; I don't think you do."
"How can you tell?" asked Theo, before the answer came from the back of his head. "Have you been spying on me?"
To his credit, Theo spoke the question surprisingly calmly, the trepidation and indignation remaining swallowed in his throat.
"That's right," said the associate.
"That must be very boring."
"It is." They paused, then the man gave a thin smile. "Strangely, I find I much preferred to pay to watch you than to be paid."
Theo was disappointed with himself for betraying his surprise when he answered.
"You're a fan, then?"
"Somewhat. I have missed you recently."
"Work is scarce. Now tell me what you need to say." It came out quite aggressively. Not intentional, but Theo was becoming uncomfortable, and the voice in his head had a notion that he was being mocked.
"Men of standing have become concerned that you may possess unwanted information. As I say, I don't believe you do. They want to have you killed, but I believe I can resolve the situation amicably. When you return home, you will immediately collect the books you have on loan from the city archive, one of which is several weeks overdue already, I'd point out. Place them outside your door, then retire to your chair and refrain from entering the corridor for fifteen minutes. Do not think to read the books; I will know if you delay. And if you don't let me help you, they will kill you."
The associate spoke quickly, but his voice remained calm throughout, and still there was a certain warmth about him. Theo nodded.
"Ok. I trust you. More fool me. But why help me?"
The man raised an eyebrow.
"How very trite. I have many associates, Mr. Eiphel. I believe this is in the best interests for all of them. I do not revel in unnecessary violence. In fact, I deeply regret death, violence and pain of any kind."
Something in that last sentence sounded like a threat, decided the back of Theo's mind.
"Pain too?" he asked. "Because I know this very good whore."
The associate smiled.
"I'll be going now. A good evening, Mr. Eiphel. I hope you appreciate it."

Theo didn't know if he appreciated it or not. He certainly didn't appreciate that people had decided to do mysterious things like try to murder him or sneak up on him on building sites. But the guy had said he wanted to help him, and as Theo had said, he believed him. He didn't plan to walk blindly into anyone's trap (not again, anyway), but he couldn't see any harm in returning those books, if what his friendly associate said was true. Plus, Theo felt he had quite a good sense for veracity. He looked back when he reached the far side of the site, but the mysterious man had gone, no surprises. As he turned and carried on his way, a fellow leaving Hollamen Row stopped him.

"Here mate, how long til it's done?" he asked. Theo looked confused for a moment, then looked back at the site exit and laughed.
"Oh, no, I'm not a builder," he said. "I'm an entertainer." Theo never missed an opportunity for self promotion, and the unexpected complements of the mysterious visitor had bolstered him. He was about to introduce himself when he was interrupted.
"Good one, mate," the fellow chuckled, then disappeared off up the street. Theo stood looking stupid for a couple of moments, then closed his mouth. He looked down at himself and wondered if he looked like a builder. He was wearing dull brown and grey leathers and woollens that he'd bought after the encounter the other day and which he couldn't really afford. He could do to look less conspicuous when not soliciting business, he'd decided, and somewhere in his mind the bit which revelled in gutter humour noted that the same was true of prostitutes. Besides, his other clothes were dyed, and relatively expensive, and he was wearing them out with everyday use. Still, he probably did look more like a workman than a thespian in these clothes. His face, too, was looking less striking, since he'd shaved off the neatly clipped goatee beard to staunch the bleeding of a nasty cut beneath and now was merely beginning to show the first signs of a rough stubble.

Slightly amused by the misunderstanding, Theo turned for home smiling but lost in uneasy wondering about his mysterious advisor. On his way back, he stopped for a moment and pondered. Then he nipped back up Sires Street and visited the listener's building for a moment. Probably nothing would come of it, he thought, but it couldn't hurt to try...