Kaz shivered underneath the once vibrant red woollen coat he'd stolen a few weeks ago from some spoilt, whiny little rat whose mother had refused them a second treat. The kid had cried so loudly and refused to put their coat on to leave the sweet shop that Kaz decided they deserved to have something real to cry about. Not, he thought, that the kid would be cold for long. Their overly-indulgent parents would probably just buy them a brand new coat once they realised the old was missing, though he hoped the ungrateful brat would at least get a thrashing for losing it. The coat had looked so out of place on him in the Barrel when he'd first nicked it, but now, after so long of sleeping on the cobblestones of Ketterdam's dirtiest alleys, it fit right in, its colour dulled by soot and its pristine construction marred by a slash across the arm where Kaz had taken a knife meant for his face before he'd been able to kick his would-be murderer in the balls and run for his life, disappearing into the thick, slimy fog that often hung around the city, as it did now.
He picked at the loose threads around the hole in his coat before wrapping his arms around himself and stroking his sides in an effort to keep himself warm in the late November chill as he walked along the canal running behind the Church of Barter. A passerby gave him an unreadable glance, so Kaz dipped his head and hurried on, pretending he was an errand boy out delivering a message of great importance. Since emerging physically alive from the dark waters of death some months ago, it hadn't taken him long to learn that if he looked and acted like he belonged, his presence wouldn't be questioned so much, even when he felt sick to his stomach with fear or his face hadn't seen a washcloth in days and he smelled a little.
His pace slowed as he finally reached the University District. The pickings were a bit easier here, especially food scraps. So many of the rich wankers here just tossed perfectly good food away like it was nothing, like they would always have more whenever they wanted it. He hated each and every one of them. He idly paused by a bin, surreptitiously peeking at the contents. No food yet. He'd circle back later. This park was very popular with the students, but it was still early in the morning. There'd probably be something for him after lunch. His stomach growled and clenched painfully, sending spikes of nausea up his throat. He swallowed as his head emptied and he felt dizzy, detached, and pale. He dug his fingers into his sides, the bite of his nails steadying him. He scowled and moved on. Keeping his feet busy would help keep his mind off his aching stomach, and maybe he'd find an easy mark - some hapless pigeon with their nose buried in a book who wouldn't notice for days if Kaz made their pockets a bit lighter. It's not like they needed the money, anyway, but Kaz did. With a few kruge, he could buy a meal even the richest mercher wouldn't turn down, and he wouldn't be hungry again for days.
Without meaning to, Kaz wandered into a pop up market. The flowers caught his eye first, and he smiled at the bouquets of colourful tulips. But the old woman selling them shouted at him to stay away, so he scampered off into the crowds before anyone could get suspicious. Soon, the smell of food found him, and the fierce ache returned as his mouth watered. A pedlar with a cart of sausage rolls walked by, and he watched with round eyes and mouth agape as it passed. He shook himself from his stupor and licked his lips. He sighed. He was so hungry.
His feet carried on, and he soon found himself in front of a pastry shop. He pressed his nose against the glass and cupped his hands around his face so he could peer inside. It was filled with all kinds of breads and cakes and so many delicious treats that Kaz wasn't sure he even know the names of. He pulled away and watched as a woman clutching the hand of a toddler left the shop with a small cake. The proprietor called "happy birthday, sweetheart!" from inside, just before the door swung shut, and the kid beamed and waved, then skipped along the street with its mother.
Kaz's eyes filled with tears as he stared after them, a much more dangerous ache wrapping its black tendrils around whatever was left of his heart. If his reckoning was correct, today was his birthday, too, but no one cared. No one would buy him a cake or wish him a happy birthday. Nobody cared at all that he'd been born or that he lived - in fact, they all wished he was dead. Didn't they know he was? He'd finally died that day, with Jordie.
His brother's vacant, bloated face flashed in front of his eyes, and a sob forced itself up through clenched teeth and fists. His head hung. Someone brusquely shouldered past him, almost knocking him to the ground, and Kaz retreated around the corner into a tiny dark alley. He crouched in the shadows, wrapped his arms around his skinny legs, laid his head on his knees, and bit his lip to keep his cries silent as they raged through him, as helpless against them as the water against a Tidemaker.
Memories darted through his mind. His father ruffling his hair, the very tips of his lips turned upwards - the real smile was in his eyes - and handing him a quince picked especially for him from the trees by their house. His father's body torn apart, more blood than Kaz had known a body could contain spilling out and sinking into the green fields, staining it so deeply Kaz was sure the grass would never be the same again. The Kazzie that had been there that day screamed in his head, and Kaz clutched his hair so hard his scalp screamed, too.
His lip split, and the tang of blood on his tongue startled him enough for him to seize control of his body. But even so, he trembled with the effort it took to smooth out his breathing and stop the flow of tears. He sniffled as he wiped his face on the inner arm of his coat. If he could find somewhere warm to sleep for a night, he'd dip it in a canal to clean it off. Then, he got to his feet and futilely brushed the seat of his trousers. One last sniffle and another wipe of his face, and he stepped cautiously back onto the street. No one had noticed him. Of course.
His face fell further into a frown, but he shoved his hands in his pockets as deep as they could go and did the same to the sorrow, locking it somewhere under the hunger where he wouldn't feel it again. He walked slowly past the bakery's door, then paused at the table they had outside packed with small fruit tartlets. His fingers twitched, and he glanced furtively around, tensing when he found a man across the street appearing to read a newspaper but really watching him.
Instead of sticking his tongue out at the man - he wasn't stadwatch, but those purple-clothed brutes were sure to be close by if the man called, and Kaz didn't feel like a run or a beating - Kaz gave the tartlets one final longing glance and forced himself to move away. He'd follow this street a little longer and then circle back to the park to wait for lunch. Maybe he could find some place to sleep where he wouldn't be kicked awake and forced to move on. His spine still smarted from the last time.
He'd almost circled the whole park before he slipped through some bushes to access a secluded spot on the banks of the canal. He laid down on the grass, his arms and legs spread out wide, like when he'd made snow angels with Jordie the previous winter, back before, in his old life. He let the thought float away like the clouds passing overhead and focussed on them. One directly above him looked like a kitten mid-pounce, and he smiled, a giggle that he didn't dare release bubbling up at the back of his throat. Back when he'd been a baby, his Da had brought home a cat to take care of the mice in their barn. They hadn't known she was pregnant until they'd gone to check on her after a late freeze and found her with a litter. Kazzie had immediately fallen in love with the smallest one, a ginger tabby runt that seemed to love him, too. Even once all the other cats had left to hunt in less crowded grounds, Oranje stayed with him, trailing after him and Jordie to the edge of the farm on their way to school in the mornings and waiting for him to come back in the afternoons. He'd spent so many hours playing with him, until one day Oranje disappeared and never returned. As if on cue, the wind gusted, and the cloud lost its shape. Kaz sighed softly, but another cloud appeared for him to ponder, and his eyes grew heavy, blinks lengthening as he resisted sleep.
The bush rustled and jerked Kaz from his almost-sleep. He scrambled up from his vulnerable position and crouched poised to fight or flee, eyes honed on the source of the noise. His face went blank with shock as the man from the bakery, the one with the paper, emerged into his hiding spot. Kaz jerked back and bared his teeth, growling as the man came closer. "Stay away from me!"
The man stopped and held his hands up, and it was only then that Kaz noticed the bag the man was carrying. "I won't come closer if you don't want me to," the man said. "I mean you no harm."
Kaz's eyes narrowed, and he growled again, snapping his teeth at the man when the man shifted unexpectedly and sat down like he was invited there. "What do you want then? Go away. This is my space." It wasn't, Kaz knew it wasn't, nothing here was his. But maybe it would make this stupid man go away. His head tilted. But if he did, how could Kaz trust he wasn't just going to call the stadwatch on him? He'd have to move. His nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened as he glared.
Keeping his movements slow and obvious, the man slowly laid out his newspaper in the space between them and retrieved the contents of the bag - two of every tart from that bakery, a few sausage rolls, and some bread and cheese and meats.
Kaz's expression flickered in his confusion. What sort of trick was this? He pursed his lips against his questions and waited.
The man didn't seem too bothered by the silence, but he was still the first to break it. "I saw the way you looked at them." He glanced meaningfully at Kaz's dirty coat. Kaz's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I thought you might like one."
The food was probably poisoned.
"I don't need your pity. And I don't need any stupid cakes or any of the other stupid food. " Kaz's stomach growled loud and long. His cheeks flushed, but his glare didn't change.
The man's eyebrow rose. He was silent a beat. "That's fine," he said easily. "You don't know me. I understand."
He reached to put the food away, and Kaz lunged for it, grabbing the edge of the newspaper and pulling it to him, bodily blocking the man from taking it back, growling. The man immediately backed away and raised his hands again. "I won't take it, if you want it."
"I don't want it!" Kaz said with no change in his position. He tugged the food closer. "You probably poisoned it anyway. You just wanna make me sick so you can laugh at me, you stupid jerk. I'll call the stadwatch!"
They both knew it was an empty threat. No one would believe a dirty orphan over a rich, well-dressed man who looked like he might belong as a professor at the university. Some emotion Kaz couldn't identify passed over the man's face. He hesitated. His face set, and he pushed a tart towards the man before sitting back just a little, enough to be out of immediate reach of the man. "You have some. Prove it's not poison."
The man shrugged and picked up the tart. He took a bite, and Kaz watched closely to ensure he chewed and swallowed the bite. "See? It's not poison. I swear with Saint Adrik as my witness."
Kaz rolled his eyes. The saints were useless. He should know. But he grabbed the tart anyway and shoved it in his mouth before the man could change his mind and take it away from him. His cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's. The man grinned, looked about to laugh, and Kaz glared extra hard at him. The man's grin mellowed to a small smile that almost reminded Kaz of his father. He looked away, back to the pastries, deciding which one he'd have next, but he looked up when the man inhaled.
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I only wanted to bring you the food. It's all yours."
Kaz reflexively moved the food closer to him again as the man stood and turned to leave. The man glanced back. It wasn't pity in his eyes, but Kaz didn't know what it was.
"Good luck, kid. May the Saints guide and protect you."
Kaz's eyes rolled so hard at the man's retreating back that they hurt. Not even the saints cared about him. They certainly weren't going to protect him. Kaz only had himself now. He was the only protection he'd ever get. "Wait!" He scrambled to his feet. "You can't leave. How do I know you aren't gonna go to the stadwatch and tell them I stole all this?" he demanded with his hands on hips.
The man stopped and appeared to actually consider his words before holding out the bag. "Here. You pack up the food and go. I'll stay here for a few minutes to give you time to slip away without me knowing where you've gone."
"Fine." Kaz snatched the bag from the man's hands and hurried to shove everything back into it. He slunk past the man and through the bushes, hurrying through the park to find somewhere he could eat until he felt ready to burst. As he ran, he slid the man's wallet into the inner pocket of his coat, grinning. Maybe turning 10 wasn't so bad after all.
