The World Which Is

As soon as we’re out of Helen’s neighborhood, Brandon takes us to back alleys and smaller streets with an ease that makes me think it isn’t the first time he’s had to leave in a hurry.

We have one close call when a group of police officers turns into the alley we were using, but Brandon has a door unlocked and us in it before they can see around the container we hid behind. The room looks and smells abandoned, and I spend the ten minutes we wait to be sure they’re gone, doing my best not to think about what makes the skittering noises. Silver gives a solid shudder once we’re out, muttering something unflattering about rats.

We make it all the way past Dupont before the next problem, this one a reminder that most people sticking to back alleys aren’t of the savory kind. Eight of them against four of us goes much more in our favor than I expect. Brandon has three down before one of them reaches me, and I hold my own sword to sword well enough, not ending up on the ground for once. Helen’s voice is clear, even if the words are incomprehensible, and before she’s done, they’re running off.

She lowers her hands with a smirk

You Sword Fighting skill has gone up. You are now level 19

“Yes!” Then my face heats up as they look at me. “My sword skill went up.”

“Congratulation,” Helen says, amused.

“Let’s be careful,” Brandon says. “The people in this area aren’t going to get any nicer.”

We make it to Kele without further problem.

“Either of you have something with a hood?” Brandon asks, looking left and right at the people. This is a more important road, base on how crowded it is.

“I do,” Silver says.

“I don’t.”

“Put that on your list of things to get. It’s not just good to hide your face, but to keep you dryer while traveling. We won’t always be able to count on my sister to keep us dry.”

“Don’t count on it already, Bran.”

He mumbles something.

“I can buy one now,” I say, “if you know where I can get one.”

“This close to the market, one of the stall along the road with have something.”

“And you’re the one they are looking for,” Helen points out.

“I might be the one described to the police, but you can be certain Xander has people looking for Dennis, too. Okay, we mix with the crowd and keep our heads low.”

Helen snorts.

“Dennis, I’ll point you to a decent cart and you get an oiled poncho. We’ll get you properly equipped for the road at the first rest stop. Oh, and keep an eye on your money. Crowds like that are rife with pickpockets.”

“Wait,” I say, following him into the crowd. “How does picking my pocket get them anything? It’s not like my money is there. It’s kept by the system.”

“You’re going to have to query the system about it. All I know is that if they make the skill check, you lose money. And the only way to get it back is to catch them.”

“There’s got to be something better.”

“Convert it into items you can then sell to make it back,” Helen says. “But that opens you up to other problems, like making sure you get your value back.”

“And it doesn’t keep thieves from getting that too,” Brandon adds, pausing to look at the clothing hung by a cart then moving on.

“But you can buy pouches that have bonuses against being picked,” Helen replies. “The system has nothing to safeguard your money.”

At the fourth cart, I buy the poncho Brandon picks and put it on. It goes in the head slot for my equipment, so I can add it to the quick switch. And it drapes over my jacket.

Helen has us change side a few times; her height lets her see over the crowd.

On the other side of the intersection of Blor and Kele, the terrain opens up, with a caravan pulling into a gated fence.

Brandon curses, and I see the officers checking everyone entering, going as far as having them pull the hoods down.

“Okay, I guess hoping to be here before them wasn’t realistic. Come on.” He heads west on Blor.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to go to one of the other entrances along the east side?” Helen asks.

“They’re going to be checked. They’re looking for a murderer. They aren’t going to take chances.”

“Then won’t they be guarding any of the entrances along this road?” I ask.

“There aren’t any caravan entrances here. The only entrance is reserved for those who own the inn, and they don’t let just anyone through.” He grins. “Fortunately for us, I know the owner and I can convince him to let us in that way.”

I make out the building that has to be the inn, simply by how large and tall it is, with its back, replacing part of the tall wooden fence along the market. A crowd gathers at the far end of the building, and Brandon directs us up the next street.

“That wasn’t good, was it?” Silver asks.

“No. There shouldn’t be anyone standing outside like that. Leer doesn’t stand loiterers.”

“Maybe they’re customers waiting to be let in?”

Brandon gives me an almost roll of the eyes. “They aren’t. The question is, who are they?”

“And if they are waiting for you,” Helen says.

We pass many alleys before taking one. Then we’re meandering through them until he has us stand back, and he goes ahead to check. He isn’t happy when he returned.

“There’s a treen of them, with Bullward at the lead. He’s Xander’s right-hand man,” he answers before I can ask. “Which means he’s going to be ready for me and anything I might pull.” He looks at Helen. “Which includes bringing you into this. He might look like nothing more than a mule, but Bullward is smart, and I’ve tangled with him a couple of years ago. He’s strong and tough.”

“So we go around and look for an entrance the police aren’t watching?” I ask.

Brandon shakes his head. “Leer had to fu—” he glances at me and Silver. “Work really hard to get his door. No one else was willing to do what he did, it seems. And like I said, the police aren’t going to slack off on this.” He leans against the building. “That means we have to travel alone.”

“Can’t we just get out of the city?” Silver asks, “then hook up with the first caravan we come across?”

“Caravan’s don’t take anyone on once they leave. It’s too dangerous. You never know who’s out there.”

“Could be a murderer,” Helen says, then grins at Brandon’s glare.

“Then we go on our own,” I say. “The roads aren’t that dangerous, are they? They lower the wilderness of the area, right?”

“Safer doesn’t mean safe,” Brandon says. “But it isn’t like you and me have a choice. Silver, if you prefer staying, I’ll understand.”

“I’m going,” Helen says. “You’re going to need someone watching your back even more if you can’t count on the safety of a caravan.”

“I’m going to,” Silver says. “I’m in this for the stories, and this is how they start.”

“With a good plan falling apart?” Brandon asks, pushing away from the wall.

“I’m going to call it ‘with the adventurers adapting to a changing situation.’”

“Won’t the police been watching all the ways to leave the city?” I ask. It’s what they’d do back home.

Brandon smiles. “The nice thing about a city without a wall is that there are far more ways out, then people to watch them.”

“Unless there’s a river,” Helen says, “then all they need to do is patrol the bridges.”

“Nope,” Brandon replies, grinning. “Then, all you need is to be willing to get wet.” He looks at Silver. “Tell me the case for your violin is waterproof.”

“Of course,” she replies indignantly.

“Good, then all we need to do is wait for night.”

* * * * *

Brandon has us spend the rest of the day in a wooded area close enough to the market, we can hear the noise it makes. Once the sun sets, we’re on the move. It’s full dark by the time I hear the Humber River. It’s the west ward city line, although Helen said officially the city didn’t reach past the Market yet.

The river’s shore is patrolled, but the lights the patrols carry makes them easy to avoid. The water is cold, and the current strong enough we get separated, but Brandon planned for that, and as soon as I walk out of the wood on the other side, I see the lights from the farmhouse and I join Brandon and his sister at the road leading to it. Not long after, Silver is with us and Brandon leads us through the field.

When he stops us to make camp, we’re in another wood.

“We’re going to continue West once there’s light until we’re past the farmlands,” he tells us over the fire boiling water. “Then we’ll head South until we reach the West road. We might have to push through some of the dark, but we should reach the first rest point before it’s too late. Depending on how busy the inn is, we might be able to get a bath each.”

“Are there a lot of inns on the road?” I ask, then add. “All we had between Court and Toronto were places on the side of the road for the caravan to pull off and make camp.”

“There aren’t as many heading East as there are going West. Especially this section, since it leads to Buffalo and Detroit. If we make the rest point tomorrow, then we should be able to reach the one at the Split with enough time to take it easy, although there’s no telling if any of the inns there will have space.” He stands and produces a bedroll. “Best get your bed ready. You’re going to want to sleep as soon as we’ve had the soup. We’re getting up with the sun in the morning.”