VI: Shitty Questions

Levi

He vaulted over the low, crumbling wall, landing in the dirt of the narrow alleyway. The buildings leaned against one another, stucco sloughing off in great patches and exposing the masonry and wooden framework underneath. Windows were barred or had their shutters closed, lest someone take it as an invitation. The oldest wooden doors had decorative iron banding that swirled and crisscrossed the broad planks, bearing witness to times and glories past. The newer doors had iron reinforcements too, but whoever made them hadn't cared much what they looked like so much as the amount of force they would withstand.

He brushed the dust off and started ahead, ignoring the din of the marketplace. Shouts and the murmur of a hundred voices all at once mingled with the loud, metallic clanging of carts rolling in and goods being unloaded. Must be a busy day, which meant there had been another delivery from the city on the surface. People would be crowding in on all sides, pushing and shoving their way through the masses, eager to spend their coppers while there were still things left worth buying.

No one ever knew when new supplies would be brought down, or how much of it there'd be. Some said it was because there was no fixed quota, it all came down to "his royal majesty's whims", whatever that meant. Others thought the underground city was supposed to receive more supplies than it did, but instead, they got whatever was left after the Military Police Brigade plundered the wagons. It was widely believed that said goods then traded hands a couple of times before they ended up on the vanishing market. That one might be true since they don't call it the "vanishing market" for no reason.

If stuff had come down, Mr. Feuelstock would no doubt be skulking around tomorrow, offering "small jobs for clever children", like clever children wouldn't know that stealing was a bad idea. Unlike some other employers though, Mr. Feuelstock actually pays in coin, while most other low-end fences pay in food, a place to sleep and the promise of protection. Some people called Mr. Feuelstock "Frazzlefrock" behind his back because they thought they were funny, but for someone who deals in theft, Mr. Feuelstock is pretty alright.

Two boys sprinted past, both brandishing sticks and shrieking happily as they whacked at each other, before slinking into the narrow gap between the wrecks of two houses. Probably playing soldiers, clearing the streets of titans. Adults tell all kinds of stories about titans, how they're tall as trees and can regrow their limbs, and how they're always hungry, though no one knows why. Most of the stories adults tell are stupid, saying the titans can smell a bad kid from miles away, but really they just want the kids to do as they're told. Not one of the people telling these shitty stories has ever seen a titan though, so how would they know?

Levi turned into the adjoining alley, grey stone walls looming over a dirt path so narrow he could touch his fingertips to the buildings on either side. Gloom persisted throughout the days, years and decades in this narrow space, as the bowing houses obscured the faint light from above, and no one bothered to put out a lantern.

He halted. There was someone standing outside his door. Two people.

The man on the left was grey and flimsy, and there was a faint outline of something that might be spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He wasn't from around here, or he would have known that nice clothes like his were an invitation for a mugging, but judging by the jerky movements of his head back and forth, he had begun to realise this mistake.

The other stood behind his nervous companion. A tall, lean shape cast deep into shadow, body bent in a predator's slouch. He stood unmoving, and when the smaller man stepped forward to knock on Levi's door, Levi saw the gleam of an eye beneath the brim of the man's black hat. Lips peeled back to show a flash of teeth. Not a smile, no, but a triumphant sneer as if to say, "Ah, there you are". He turned to Levi, and the tails of his long coat billowed out as if he were a bat readying to spread its wings. The long gaunt face framed by greasy tressels of just-a-bit-too-long hair had not changed in the year that had passed. The shadows still pooled in the hollows of his cheeks, frozen in that dead rictus of a smile. Once, in a barely remembered past, Levi had studied it, imagining it was a stage where he could fold back the curtains and peer inside, privy to the secrets within. He had not understood that Kenny employed smiles as a way to disguise his thoughts, or that his face didn't change when he told a lie. Not until it was already too late.

"Oi oi squirt, look how ya've grown!" Kenny said as if they were old friends. "On second thought, scratch that. Thought ya might've advanced from pea-size to green beans by now, but that's life for ya."

"What do you want?"

So, the shitty old bastard wasn't dead after all. Perhaps Levi had never really thought that he was. It was just a story he had told to make himself feel better, because if the bastard was dead, there was no reason to ask shitty questions like why he left, and if it was Levi's fault.

"Phew, tough crowd. But then ya always were a gloomy brat. That all the thanks I get for making sure ya landed on your feet?"

Levi didn't know what to say to that, so he balled his hand into a fist and said nothing.

A very fine cane dangled from the limp hand of Kenny's companion. Its handle looked like it might be made of real gold, or at least brass, shaped like a perfect orb and ringed with a band of small, glittery stones. The stranger pushed a stray lock of short-cropped, ash blond hair out of his bright, curious eyes.

"Remarkable," he said, his light blue gaze fixed on Levi. "Pardon my intrusion, but are the two of you related?"

"No," said Levi.

"Where would ya get a dumb idea like that?" said Kenny. "Ya think I'd share blood with that shorty? Need to get those glasses checked, more like."

If Levi and Kenny had been related the old bastard might have stuck around like he'd promised.

The man held his hands up in surrender. "Very well, accept my apologies. But you must admit Mr. Ackerman, the boy has your eyes. That peculiar shade of grey."

"So what! Lots of people got grey eyes. Ya sayin' I'm related to all of them too?"

"N-no! Of course not, I would never presume to—it was only that the two of you-" the nervous man babbled.

Kenny had that gleam in his eyes Levi had seen a hundred times before, the all-in glint of a poker player cleaning house, or a cat toying with its food.

"Ya sayin' I'm the sorta scum who'd sow his wild oats 'n leave them to rot in this putrid dungheap?" Kenny said, and his friend's face turned paler with each word.

Levi could sneak around them and bar the door, but doors had never been very good at keeping Kenny out. He wanted to hide away and pretend this never happened. Hide away, telling himself that Kenny died after all, and this had just been a bad dream.

But the problem with pretending was that it never worked in the long run. It hadn't worked for Mother, and it wouldn't work for him. The old bastard had turned his back on Levi that day and walked away, and that's all there was to it. It wasn't like Kenny to hang on to things that weren't useful after all, which meant that he had come because he needed something, and when he'd taken it, he would leave again.

Finally, Kenny pushed back his greasy old hat and let his companion off the hook.

"Ey kiddo," he said to Levi. "Need your help. Lookin' for a special kind of hangout, a brothel."

"Find it yourself."

Kenny scowled. "Ya haven't even heard what sorta' brothel we're lookin' for! Ya gonna let us wander around aimlessly? I'll do just fine, but look at this guy." He motioned to the smaller man. "Almost shat himself going down the stairs. Wouldn't last half an hour. Ya want that on your conscience?"

It was probably true. But how would it be his fault if Kenny's associate bit the dust? That'd be on Kenny's conscience. Then again, he didn't have one, did he.

"What place are you looking for?"

"That's what I like to hear! By the way, this squirmy fella here's Laurens Theil, but everyone calls him Doc."

"Pardon me, but I must beg to disagree. I am a well-renowned physician, not a simple apothecary," Laurens interjected. "But where are my manners—it is good to meet you." He held out a hand.

"Levi," said Levi.

Laurens seemed to be a good person, he supposed, but good people did not hang around Kenny. At least not for very long. It wasn't a good idea to extend a hand to anyone in the underground either, too easy for someone to grab hold and shiv you in the armpit. Levi stared at the proffered hand until it fell back at Laurens' side.

"Don't trouble yourself, it's alright to be a little shy," Laurens said, completely missing the point.

"Well then, now that we're all good friends—how about we get down to business?" said Kenny, swooping in between them. He had that gleam in his eyes that meant he was excited. "We're lookin' for one of them places that's got boys on offer. Ya know of any?"

"Why?"

"Whaddaya mean 'why'?"

"Why do you want to go to a place like that?"

"If I wanted ya to know I'd have said so, but it ain't for shits and giggles if that's what you're thinkin'," Kenny replied.

This was Levi's chance to say no, to walk away. If the old bastard could do it, so could he, and good riddance. Just one little word, and Kenny could fuck back off to whatever place he'd been hanging around since he dumped Levi like yesterday's garbage.

He took a deep breath and said, "Follow me".