“At least, we were supposed to get paid. The guy who asked us to steal all that paid us half up front, but I ain’t seen a wisp of him ever since,” she said with a downcast look.
That was still a lot, but Vir realized the money had to be split a dozen ways. Even a silver wouldn’t go very far when spread so thin.
“So, uh, how did you kids end up like this?” Maiya asked awkwardly.
“Eh, everyone’s got their own story,” Alda said, her voice cool and casual. “But it all boils down to kids’ parents either dying off or ditchin’ ’em. Some died in accidents or illness. Others to bandits. Some got forced into the army ’n never came back. Nothing special.”
Vir had known the world could be a cruel place—that Hiranya was a poor country—but hearing about the likes was entirely different from experiencing it firsthand. He knew his childhood friend felt the same.
“Doesn’t Saran have orphanages for kids without parents?” Maiya asked.
“Well sure, but they’s all full. They only take in kids who can pay, nowadays. And it’s pricey. Can’t afford that! And the kingdom’s no help at all. No money to go ’round.”
The dazzling sheen that covered Saran when Vir first arrived was tarnishing. Sure, Brij never had much in the way of luxuries, but things weren’t bad. Not like here. He wondered if the situation was this dire in all the Hiranyan cities. He wondered if Daha, the capital, was any better.
“And here we are!” Alda proclaimed, happy to talk about something else.
The streets ended abruptly, giving way to a vast bay. The Bay of Saran.
Vir’s breath caught, and his jaw dropped. For the first time in his life, he laid eyes upon a harbor. A real, honest to goodness harbor.
With ships. Dozens of gorgeous ships of all shapes and sizes, their silhouettes looming large against the darkness.
“Maiya?” Vir whispered, ensuring Alda didn’t overhear.
“Yeah, Vir?” she whispered back.
“We gotta hitch a ride on one of those…”
35OLD MAN BAKURA
“Where are we headed, exactly?” Vir asked Alda, his leather shoes’ soles clacking on Saran’s cobblestone harbor roads. Both Vir and Maiya had slightly altered their makeup and clothing. Nothing drastic, but enough to hide them from guards at a distance. Or so they hoped.
Magic Lamp streetlights bathed the entire pier in amber light, setting a rather melancholic mood, and the bracky brine hit them full force now that they were right next to the ocean. Vir didn’t mind—the many ships docked at the harbor captured all of his attention—but Maiya wrinkled her nose and gagged at its pungency.
Alda thumbed at a nearby wooden building. It was a squat, unadorned structure that burst with light and laughter.
“West side pub. Old man Bakura always hangs out ’ere after work.”
“And you said this man’s a sailor?” Maiya said. “Why would he know where Bumpy is?”
“Not a question o’ where he is. He’ll be at the Merchant Guild’s corral. Only place in town’s got big enough stables for this kinda thing. It’s just that getting him out’s gonna be hard.”
“The Merchant’s Guild?” Vir asked. “Wouldn’t they have taken him to a government stable?”
“The guild’s like this with the uffishals,” Alda said, crossing her fingers. “Not strange at all. But uh, let’s hurry.”
A guard patrol rushed past right after they entered the tavern.
“Guess our jailbreak’s been noticed,” Vir muttered.
“We’ll be fine,” Maiya replied. “Best place to hide is in a crowd, and this place is packed.”
The pub’s double wooden doors were propped wide open, and upon entering, they found a place that had three times as many people as they designed it for. Some patrons packed in next to each other at the long tables while others stood, mugs of beer in their hands and flagons peppering the tables, no doubt filled with alcohol.
There was an exception to the crowd, though. In the back corner, nestled by itself, was a round table that was nearly empty. It stuck out like a sore thumb in this hive of activity, and the person who pulled Vir’s eyes was the black-bearded giant of a man who sat there, occupying two and a half seats on a bench, straddling his arms around two beautiful women.
Vir had never seen such a glorious belly in his life. He must be rich to eat like that, he thought.
“Old man Bakura!” Alda said, waving as she strode up to the man, crushing Vir’s hope.
Bakura’s eyes lit up in recognition and he raised a paw as large as a bear’s. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t little Alda! What brings yer scalliwaggin’ arse to my humble establishment? C’mere, you! Take a seat.”
His establishment! Vir thought in alarm. “He owns this place?”
“’Course he does,” Alda said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She muscled past the woman next to him, giving her the stink eye, then plopped herself on the man’s lap.
Vir and Maiya awkwardly took a seat across from Bakura. Though the circular table was quite large, the giant still loomed over them like a predator. A very rotund predator.
“So anyway,” Alda said. “Need yer help, old man.”
“Oho? Do tell. Always happy to help… for a price!” Bakura roared, then went for a healthy pull of his beer. The man had ignored Vir and Maiya until now, which suited them just fine.
“Yeah, so. We need to break an Ash’va outta the merc’s guild.”
Bakura spit out his beer, spraying Vir and Maiya. “You WHAT! Next yer gonna tell me a Vimana’s parked itself above Saran, ain’t ye! And why do I gotta do such’n thing, hmm? Who’s gonna pay me? You?”
Alda continued, unperturbed. “Maybe I could, if you were more generous, old man. But you’re gonna help anyway. Because you were a part of this, too. These two were jailed but they’ve done nuthin’ wrong. Neel o’er there even helped us out. Just tryin’ to make amends, y’know?”
Bakura slammed his mug down on the table and went silent. It felt to Vir like the entire bar had gone silent, but that was merely his fear drowning out all other sounds.
“So dat be how it like, eh?” Bakura said, leaning back to spit on the ground. The bench groaned under his weight.
Vir finally mustered up the courage to speak. “What do you mean?”
Bakura scratched the back of his head and spoke in a lower voice. “That badrakkin’ chal set me up. Promised me loads ’o coin ’n return fer some ’risto clothing. ’Cept he never paid up. All I got was the advance. I’m in the red on this one. Pittance ’o a payout, and now I got a ’risto family out for blood, don’t I?” His eyes darted between Vir, Maiya, and the mug on the table.
“Then the clothes you used…” Maiya said.
“The old man gave ’em to us, yeah,” Alda completed. “And get this, old man! Those jailors were rude as heck! Even slapped Neel o’er there. Can you believe that? A Suvir!”
The man furrowed his brows. “Suvir, huh? They famous or something?”
Alda looked at Bakura like he’d gone mad. “You don’t know of the Suvirs? Even I know ’em, old man! They’re huge! Big time ’ristos in Daha!” the girl said, winking at Vir.
Vir was thankful for her deception, and wondered whether she really was trying to do right by them. If she really helped them with getting Bumpy out, he was willing to let bygones be bygones. But if she did betray them again… he honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to keep his anger in check.