For my dear Marina - 109th Vhalar, 718
________________________
He could count the days he’d visited the Glass Quarter on one hand, yet he knew his way around as though he’d lived there his entire life. He’d developed an eye for recognizing which streets would grant the quickest escape should he need to run. Even now, two seasons since he had arrived in the city, he still discovered weathered old faces resembling Mr. Tagley amid the bustle of pedestrians, watching him, waiting for the opportune moment to strike and reclaim him. Better to stick to the main streets. Not even Vuda’s lapdogs would strike in broad daylight amid carts and carriages wheeling up and down the cobblestone roads.
He idly rolled his shoulder. A stiffness had settled in his arm from guiding a borrowed horse all the way up to the Glass Quarter. Along the way he’d considered several reasons why a wealthy merchant had left a horse at the Harpy Inn stables. Pleasing though it was to think that his and his mentor Brimtattle’s work was becoming well-known throughout the city, the likelier reason was that the owner of the horse had a secret lover in the lower parts of town. As a stable hand he was privy to just how many of the noble lords had drinking, gambling and other alternative hobbies that they hid as much from their wives as from each other. Brimtattle scoffed about it on occasion, but never minded taking bribes from the very same people when they sought assurance against rumours spreading.
Tap… tap….
Finn slowed his pace.
Tap…
Not five feet behind him an old man carrying a walking stick, dressed in the fashion from two decades ago and smelling of mothballs was edging along the road like a demented turtle. His cheeks glowed red from exertion and his raspy breath caused a few heads to turn and lift their noses in disgust at the sweaty odor that surrounded the geezer.
He’s gonna fall over any moment now. Finn thought to himself. He watched a little longer as the man leaned heavily on his walking stick and looked around him, squeezing his eyes in an attempt to read the signs of the various shops along the road.
...any moment now…
Glistening sweat pooled in the deep wrinkles forming on the man’s aged forehead as he frowned and fished an old-fashioned handkerchief from his innermost pocket. Finn saw the danger as the man moved to wipe the sweat of his brow with a trembling hand and shot up to his side just as the man’s balance started to tip and-
“-goodness me!” the ancient face croaked, his stiff old legs stumbling to find support as Finn helped keep him upright.
“Are you alright?”
No response.
“Are you alright, mister?” he tried again, a little louder this time.
“Yes, yes, quite alright but I ehm-” he sweapt the ‘chief across his forehead and scratched the side of his head for a moment as he tried to remember what he’d intended to say again. “My eyes ain’t what they were,” he concluded with a heavy sigh. “I’m looking for a dresser’s.” Another frown marred his face and the weight of a lifetime of concerns etched into his features.
Finn repositioned himself to better support the old fellow who would undoubtedly collapse into a miserable pile of limbs the moment he stepped away.
“What’s she say again, what’s she say again…” the senior muttered. “Gosh I don’t know! I don’t know! Why don’t I know?!”
Finn flinched at the sudden outburst. “What’s the matter?”
“The name. The name of the shop it’s… it’s slipped my mind.”
“You said it was a dresser’s…”
“Yes. A dresser’s, yes… that’s right. Puff sleeves. She wanted puff sleeves.”
“What are puff sleeves?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea.”
“But you know you can get them at a dre-”
“Augustine! That was it! Augustine’s puff sleeves!”
Finn offered the man a friendly if somewhat bewildered smile. “Augustine’s Boutique you mean?” He’d come across the shop a few times in passing. It was difficult to miss, not in the least because the owner was practically a celebrity. He’d wondered once or twice how Ilaren would take to finding out that someone matching her renown had settled in town. Then again, he was beginning to question that Ilaren really made her home in the Cathedral. He’d never once seen her. Maybe he’d scared her off…
“The boutique, yes! Good lad!” The senior exclaimed excitedly. “It can’t be much further…”
“It isn’t,” Finn said as he dipped his chin toward the storefront on whose porch they were standing.
“That’s Augustine’s.”
The man began to move again, leaning heavily on him as they closed the distance to the door. Part of him wanted to leave the man there and head back home, but he didn’t have the heart to do it.
“Mind your step,” he noted duly as they entered the shop. They were greeted by a wall of fresh, cool air, a faint scent of flowers and racks upon racks of fine clothes as far as the eye could see. Finn spotted a small wooden bench under the front windows where a posh lady was trying very hard to pretend that the boy who reeked of hay and the man who’d come waddling out of some antique closet didn’t exist, and step by step lead the man to the resting spot.
“Why don’t you take a moment to catch your breath, and I’ll ask for assistance in the front, alright?”
“I- I couldn’t ask of you-”
Finn dismissed the protests with a wave and skipped to the counter with a light bounce in his step. How had he not been here before? This place was unbelievable!
His excitement was somewhat diminished as he noticed an elderly couple smothered in perfume and jewels, and an immaculate family of two with portrait perfect children staring coldly at him, wondering just how low the standards of the appraised shop had sunk if they let common boys stroll around!
None too perturbed, Finn came up to the counter and fortified himself as he rang the bell positioned there.
“Ms. Augustine?” he called. "Have you got puffing sleeves?"
He thought he heard the daughter of the family gasp in horror behind him.
He idly rolled his shoulder. A stiffness had settled in his arm from guiding a borrowed horse all the way up to the Glass Quarter. Along the way he’d considered several reasons why a wealthy merchant had left a horse at the Harpy Inn stables. Pleasing though it was to think that his and his mentor Brimtattle’s work was becoming well-known throughout the city, the likelier reason was that the owner of the horse had a secret lover in the lower parts of town. As a stable hand he was privy to just how many of the noble lords had drinking, gambling and other alternative hobbies that they hid as much from their wives as from each other. Brimtattle scoffed about it on occasion, but never minded taking bribes from the very same people when they sought assurance against rumours spreading.
Tap… tap….
Finn slowed his pace.
Tap…
Not five feet behind him an old man carrying a walking stick, dressed in the fashion from two decades ago and smelling of mothballs was edging along the road like a demented turtle. His cheeks glowed red from exertion and his raspy breath caused a few heads to turn and lift their noses in disgust at the sweaty odor that surrounded the geezer.
He’s gonna fall over any moment now. Finn thought to himself. He watched a little longer as the man leaned heavily on his walking stick and looked around him, squeezing his eyes in an attempt to read the signs of the various shops along the road.
...any moment now…
Glistening sweat pooled in the deep wrinkles forming on the man’s aged forehead as he frowned and fished an old-fashioned handkerchief from his innermost pocket. Finn saw the danger as the man moved to wipe the sweat of his brow with a trembling hand and shot up to his side just as the man’s balance started to tip and-
“-goodness me!” the ancient face croaked, his stiff old legs stumbling to find support as Finn helped keep him upright.
“Are you alright?”
No response.
“Are you alright, mister?” he tried again, a little louder this time.
“Yes, yes, quite alright but I ehm-” he sweapt the ‘chief across his forehead and scratched the side of his head for a moment as he tried to remember what he’d intended to say again. “My eyes ain’t what they were,” he concluded with a heavy sigh. “I’m looking for a dresser’s.” Another frown marred his face and the weight of a lifetime of concerns etched into his features.
Finn repositioned himself to better support the old fellow who would undoubtedly collapse into a miserable pile of limbs the moment he stepped away.
“What’s she say again, what’s she say again…” the senior muttered. “Gosh I don’t know! I don’t know! Why don’t I know?!”
Finn flinched at the sudden outburst. “What’s the matter?”
“The name. The name of the shop it’s… it’s slipped my mind.”
“You said it was a dresser’s…”
“Yes. A dresser’s, yes… that’s right. Puff sleeves. She wanted puff sleeves.”
“What are puff sleeves?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea.”
“But you know you can get them at a dre-”
“Augustine! That was it! Augustine’s puff sleeves!”
Finn offered the man a friendly if somewhat bewildered smile. “Augustine’s Boutique you mean?” He’d come across the shop a few times in passing. It was difficult to miss, not in the least because the owner was practically a celebrity. He’d wondered once or twice how Ilaren would take to finding out that someone matching her renown had settled in town. Then again, he was beginning to question that Ilaren really made her home in the Cathedral. He’d never once seen her. Maybe he’d scared her off…
“The boutique, yes! Good lad!” The senior exclaimed excitedly. “It can’t be much further…”
“It isn’t,” Finn said as he dipped his chin toward the storefront on whose porch they were standing.
“That’s Augustine’s.”
The man began to move again, leaning heavily on him as they closed the distance to the door. Part of him wanted to leave the man there and head back home, but he didn’t have the heart to do it.
“Mind your step,” he noted duly as they entered the shop. They were greeted by a wall of fresh, cool air, a faint scent of flowers and racks upon racks of fine clothes as far as the eye could see. Finn spotted a small wooden bench under the front windows where a posh lady was trying very hard to pretend that the boy who reeked of hay and the man who’d come waddling out of some antique closet didn’t exist, and step by step lead the man to the resting spot.
“Why don’t you take a moment to catch your breath, and I’ll ask for assistance in the front, alright?”
“I- I couldn’t ask of you-”
Finn dismissed the protests with a wave and skipped to the counter with a light bounce in his step. How had he not been here before? This place was unbelievable!
His excitement was somewhat diminished as he noticed an elderly couple smothered in perfume and jewels, and an immaculate family of two with portrait perfect children staring coldly at him, wondering just how low the standards of the appraised shop had sunk if they let common boys stroll around!
None too perturbed, Finn came up to the counter and fortified himself as he rang the bell positioned there.
“Ms. Augustine?” he called. "Have you got puffing sleeves?"
He thought he heard the daughter of the family gasp in horror behind him.
