Threadbare Web

[Morus]

The docks were alive with the echoes of an unseen crowd. Jovial laughs, shouting matches, and the clink of goblets chimed above the daily grind of weary workers below and the cawing gulls above. Though the hour grew late and the sun faint, steady lines of people were strolling down one wide pier towards a single ship.

Even in the waning light of dusk, the stately vessel shimmered in a glow of its own making. Gilded with paint and accented with shimmering copper plate, the torches around and atop gave the ship a spritely appearance that stood in stark contrast to the grim sea behind and below. It was a stout thing made up mostly of deck, with a large complex built on top that almost mimicked a small manor home.

On the pier, behind a merry throng of five finely dressed gentleman was a small and lonely figure. He followed at a bit of a distance, padding at a hesitant gait with his wary eyes darting back and forth. As the group ahead of him approached a man guarding the carpeted gangplank that lead aboard, the figure began to fish his pockets and pouches for some elusive treasure.

“Eustace,” said a fellow dressed in yellow at the front of the pack. He tipped a wide-brimmed hat before producing something from his fist, which he slipped the to guard. “I’m feeling awfully lucky tonight.”

“And your friends?” For such an intimidating man, the guard’s voice was no more than a whisper nearly drowned out by the clamour of the ship and the rolling waters below. The yellow-dressed man stammered meaninglessly for a moment, before removing something else from his waistcoat with far less subtlety. The unmistakable glint of gold was clearly visible between his clenched fist.

“Hopefully enough to allow my four associates to join me at this month’s event?” The man in yellow smiled with a mouth full of perfect teeth that managed to look fake despite being entirely real.

“Four, huh?” The bouncer took his bribe with nary a sound more, but his gaze lingered on the small shadow behind. The figure continued its search through its pockets, it’s actions growing more frantic before it noticed the guard’s attention, before slowing to a more casual pace. With half a nod and his mind elsewhere, the guard let the group of fops in, their giddy steps quickening down the plank. The shadow moved closer, its features becoming more defined with each foot closer into the light.

He was no more than a ragged boy draped in a hodgepodge of scrap fabrics and a threadbare tunic. It was hard to tell where the bags under his eyes ended and the dirt on his face began, though there seemed to be some effort made in spreading it out as evenly as possible. His hair was wild mess of black that seemed to have a mind all its own, matted and mussed in places like the boy had just awoken from a long and troubled sleep.

There was a pensive set to his lips as the boy went through some great effort to find words, but he was interrupted the moment he opened his mouth. From behind, a lady in a billowing silken gown tapped the side of the boy’s head with the tip of an umbrella, brushing him aside as she swept past. She didn’t even bother to look at him, and instead slipped an object to the guard with a few coy pleasantries, before she too was allowed to embark onto the ship. The boy scratched feverishly at his head were the tip had hit him, and he scowled with some fierce new resolution. Checking the pier behind him with one last cautious glance, he stomped the last few feet to the bouncer.

“Yes?” the large man said with a bit of amusement. By then, the guard had stopped leaning on the torch post, and was standing tall . “What do you think you’re -”

His words trailed off as the boy flung something at him. He caught it mid-air. Examining it in the flickering torchlight, the bouncer’s face tightened. It was a small poker chip painted in red, white, and black, with an oddly scrawled rune on each side of its face.

“I believe that gets me in,” said the boy, though his muffled voice was unclear, as he had bitten down on his lower lip. His feet shifted, and it was unclear if he intended to dash in or bolt away at a moment’s notice . The bouncer lowered his hands and glared down at the boy.

“Where’d you steal this?”

“It was given to me.”

“By who? Why?”

“By people, for my impeccable people skills.” Their exchange was terse and tense, though the boy’s wit was cheapened by the uneasy cracking of his voice.

The guard let out a bit of an exaggerated sigh.

“You got any money?” Usually, the guard got a quick laugh chasing off the odd barefooted urchin who dared approached the revelry on the ship, but the chip made it clear that, somehow, this child was invited. The boy flicked a pouch that hung loosely from a worn, crooked belt about his waist, and the unmistakable clink of coin followed. “And your name?”

“Not your concern,” the boy began, second guessing himself the moment a flicker of anger rose on the bouncer’s face. “But it’s Morus.”

“Well Morus, enjoy yourself. Play the games, win, lose, drink if you’re able. But keep your hands where they belong. Otherwise, I’ll have to come find you.”

The boy began padding passed the guard, keeping a bit of distance from the larger man. Turning his head as he first laid foot upon the gangplank, he said without irony -

“That’ll be easy.”