The Keeper and The Dragons Ch. 10-11

Three months later, the mommy hadn't cooked for two days. Lachlan stole two pieces of pizza from the refrigerator for him and Annie. He'd done it before and nothing had happened. So he went and did it again.

This time, the daddy must have been hungry. Lachlan hid in the closet when he heard him stomping down the hall. The daddy came into the room. Next, there was lots of yelling and Annie cried. Then a slap sounded. Then silence. After a while, he crept out of the closet and saw the daddy sleeping face down on the bed. Annie lay on the floor with her eyes wide open and a strange twist to her neck.

He sat by Annie for a long time, holding her hand and stroking her hair, hoping she'd wake up. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he didn't take care of her. "We take care of each other."

But she never did wake up. He finally figured that she died like his mommy and daddy.

The sleeping drunk gave a sudden snore.

"Run"--His mind shrieked—"Run now."

A timeless while later, he found himself stumble-running down the dark streets of the Fremont district. He kept looked behind to make sure the man wasn't coming up behind him. After a while, his initial panicked flight had settled into a half run, half walk. The north/south streets of Seattle's Fremont neighborhood are steep, so he headed south—downhill simply because it was easier than going up. Young Lachlan had no idea where he was going—just away from the daddy who had hurt Annie. He supposed she was in heaven now, maybe with his mama and papa. He hoped so, anyway. Sometimes he wished he was too—only sometimes, because lately he couldn't remember what his mama looked like. He supposed that there were lots of people in heaven—what if he couldn't recognize them?

Young Lachlan was numb; all cried out. The dark rainy streets were much less scary than the big man who had hit Annie so hard he couldn't wake her up.

Now, for the first time, layered on top of the terror came guilt and shame; it was all his fault; he shouldn't have stole the pizza. And he should have said it was him who had done it. But he hadn't— too scared. He knew deep in his bones that bad things had happened to Annie because he gave into his scaredness. "Never ever again," he promised himself. "Someday, I'll never be a-scared again."

Lachlan shivered, he was glad that he'd thought to put on his shoes and grab his backpack, but he wished he had found his coat. He was hungry, but he was used to being hungry. He was so tired, but he knew he couldn't stop. The big people would catch him and make him go back to the monster's house, and the man would be really mad this time. Lachlan was determined never to go back.

It was dark where he was walking, but there were lights up ahead. He dimly remembered the book place with the nice lady who read stories to kids, and maybe she would be there and give him a place to get warm.

Cars were whizzing by splashing water. The rain started again. He put his head down, clutched Mr. Teddy, his stuffed brown bear, and walked on.

He came out of the dark and onto the brightly lit sidewalks of 36th Street. All the stores closed for the night. but there was a bench over by the statue of a stern-looking man with a red hand, so he figured it would be safe enough to sit and rest a little while.

As young Lachlan walked to the bench, a curious dizziness hit him. He stumbled and the next thing he knew; he was in a place where the sun shone hot and bright. Shocked, he stood openmouthed, blinking in the bright sunlight. He wrinkled his nose—acrid smoke stung his eyes and smelled of poop and pee. But that wasn't the biggest difference. The street rang with the shouts of hundreds of odd-looking people, large and small, right out of one of the library lady's story books. Short stocky dwarves, tall slender people that looked like elves, even some short round people that looked like Mr. Teddy. They were all mixed in with regular looking people, all arguing and shouting in a language he didn't understand: a mixture of singing, sharp clicks and whistles and lots of hand gestures.

As he stood gawking, a hand grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him off the street and into a dark alcove. He dropped Mr. Teddy and when he tried to go back and rescue him; the hand held him fast. Another hand covered his mouth. A voice whispered, "Shhhhhhhhhh."

A pair of huge monster men with out-thrust jaws that held two large tusks were walking along, looking for something.

The hand holding him trembled when their eyes swept over their hiding place. A voice whispered a soft shhhhhh in his ear again.

When the two monsters passed, his heart dropped when he realized Mr. Teddy was gone—the last link to his mama was gone.

An ugly-looking kid with an enormous nose and pointed ears released his neck. Two girls came out of the shadows and joined him. The three walked away, heading deeper into the alley. One of the girls turned and smilingly beckoned Lachlan to join them. He followed the beings that he later found out were thieves. And that was how young Lachlan Quinn, late of planet Earth, became a thief.

# # #

A stab of guilt needled Quinn when he realized he hadn't given a thought to the goblin called Nine Fingers in years. That day, the difference between freedom and slavery had been a minor act of kindness from a goblin who shouldn't have cared but did. Niamh's voice pulled him out of his memory.

"... thieves. Why do you have a master thief at your table, Lan?"

She was glaring at the little goblin.

Quinn quirked a small smile. Niamh was a cop, through and through. She had recognized the little goblin right away. The little being must be more successful than he appeared.

Klzyx shot a despairing look of betrayal at Quinn. His panicked eyes instantly swept the room, searching for a way out.

Quinn finger signaled, "Be at ease, my friend. These three mean you no harm."

Katie and Kirk Falstad, the big Ursa-shifter, came up to the table and stared bemusedly at the two little thieves.

"Sweet mother, the fucking social worker is at it again." This from Kirk Falstad. He levered his six-foot-seven frame into a chair and smiled reassuringly at little Clover, who was staring at him with fear-filled eyes.

Katie and Niamh seated themselves beside him. Katie, elegant as usual, looked remarkably out of place in this dive tavern. He sensed the sandalwood scent of her roiling magic seeping from her shields, a sure sign she was uncomfortable or pissed off.

"I'd like you to meet my new friends, Klzyx and Clover. They will be the start of our very own Baker Street Irregulars. If anybody knows what's happening around here, it's Mr. Whiskers' minions."

"Who is Mr. Whiskers?" Katie asked.

"He's the self-styled King of Thieves in this section. Oldtown's very own Fagin," Niamh answered with a sniff. "Most of the kids you see out on the lanes here will steal the eyes out of your head if you give 'em half a chance. Lan's new pal Klzyx here is what they call a master snatcher. An expert pickpocket. The guilds enforcers have been trying to catch him for seasons."

Quinn frowned at the disgust in her voice.

"You two again," a booming voice sang out from behind them. A massively fat orc in a stained white apron strode out of the kitchen with a scowl on his face. He pointed a huge finger at Niamh and Katherine. "You two behave yourself today, or I'll ban you. Longshanks, I thought better of you than associating with troublemakers of this stripe."

Quinn stood and gave the innkeeper a hug and a slap on the back. "Well met, Master Raven; it's been far too long since I've tasted your fodder. I'll make sure they behave. Brawling were they?"

"Aye, two of my best lads won't be able to work for weeks." He turned and stomped back into his kitchen.

Kirk grinned at Quinn's questioning look. "Four drunken half-bloods had a bit of romance in mind. Wouldn't hear "not interested". These two took offense. I warned 'em, but they didn't listen. An altercation ensued"

Katherine and Niamh, both red faced, scowled at him.

Quinn laughed out loud.

"Okay, let's get down to business," He looked to Katie. "Were you able to stop at a bank?"

"Yes, I did, although I have no idea what you wanted with thirty rolls of pennies." She reached into her big satchel purse to take out the pennies.

"Wait! Don't take them out here for mother's sake. We'll have every low life within ten blocks stalking us. Grab a couple of rolls and hand them to me. I'll show you where I'm going with this."

Quinn reached into his pack and pulled out two small leather sacks with a circle burnt into the outside. He smoothed them out on the table in front of him.

Katherine drew a breath. "You thief, those belong to the coven."

"Somebody carelessly left them lying around, so I liberated a bunch of them. It wouldn't do to have them fall into the wrong hands. Anyway, Althea's apprentices can always spell up some more." He gave each of the young beings a roll of pennies. They quickly hid them from sight.

They were both looking at him with such confused wonder that they didn't react when, in a movement too fast to follow, he yanked a hair out of each of their heads.

Quinn carefully laid a hair on each of the pouches.

"Katie, would you cast a personalization spell on them? Fifty pennies are so much wealth that someone is certain to take from them unless they can find a safe place to hide it."

Katherine nodded wordlessly, put her hand out, and muttered a cantrip for each pouch. They instantly disappeared from everybody's view except for Quinn and the two youngsters.

He got their attention and whistle-clicked softly in low alfar, "Look you; these pouches have been magicked, so only you can only see and open, nobody else. The rolls each contain fifty coppers to pay for your aid this day. . I suggest you put them away in your bag. That should last you a good long while. I'll have another task for you, but first, we feast."

He smiled as they each nodded enthusiastic thanks, as if he had given them the crown jewels. Fifty coppers were a fortune to a street kid.

An emerald-haired half-blood dryad effortlessly slid bowls of steaming stew along with mugs of cider onto the table.

The delighted awe in the youngster's faces when they tasted the stew testified to its goodness.

Meanwhile, the dryad trailed her right hand along the back of Quinn's neck and trilled, "Will there be anything else, Master? Anything at all".

"Get your hands off him, bitch," Niamh snarled, "lest I tear your throat out."

The dryad jerked her head back in shock, caught Katherine's murderous glare, and retreated in haste.

Quinn ignored the byplay. He decided to explain a bit about street life in the ancient city.

"Katie, a copper penny pays for a night's safe lodging and meals. Mr. Whiskers is an ancient, bad-tempered dwarf. The kids call him Mr. Whiskers. Niamh's right. He is a Fagin who rules the kids with an iron fist. He adopts stray kids and sends them out to beg, borrow or steal during the day and collects part of their earnings when they come back at night. No coin, they get no food and have to sleep outside. He never cheats them, but his rules are strict and his discipline is harsh. He is the only source of food and protection for many of them. Without him, most would soon die or get themselves enslaved."

Quinn eyed his little guests; both beings had one arm crooked protectively around their bowls while their free hands shoveled food as fast as possible. He touched the young goblin's shoulder, momentarily distracting him from his stew.

"Go easy there, my friend. No one will take your bowl. I'll get you another if you still hunger."

He turned his attention back to Katherine and Niamh.

"The thing is, these kids are always aware of the environment. Nothing goes down here that they or their friends don't see. They are sure to know if Lizzy arrived here. In fact, let's ask them right now.

"Did either of you see a tall blond human female human cross over in the last couple of days?"

Clover raised a timid hand. "I saw, master, the female crossed with two Dragon-kin and got in a big shiny black carriage."

Quinn smiled his approval and reached into his pack and pulled out a package of M&M's. He tore a corner off a pack, motioned for the little female's hand, and poured two candies onto her palm. She nodded polite thanks, but the blank look on her face told of her puzzlement.

"They taste good, little one. Try one. You'll like it."

She gave him a doubtful look, but dutifully munched on one. Her face immediately blossomed into such wonder that the entire table burst into laughter.

Quinn tossed a bag to Klzyx and handed the opened one to Clover. He tapped the little goblin's shoulder to get his attention.

"Get you down to Mr. Whiskers. Tell him Longshanks will be by to see him in a night or two. I have work for him. Tell him I will pay him to set a feast for all. Then come meet me at the Vampire's house."

Klzyx nodded and finished the last of the stew with a smack of his lips. He signaled to Clover, and the two little beings hurried out of the tavern. Clover chattering about the delicious taste of the treats the entire way.

Quinn watched them go with a small smile, then turned to the others, his eyes cold.

"What is it?" asked Katherine. "What did she say? Did she see anyone?"

"Listen, you two. Life has not been good for those two. They're on their own. They live scared ALL THE TIME. They do what it takes to survive. So be kind to them. Especially you, Miss Judgmental." He pointed to Niamh.

She shot him a mulish look but didn't argue.

"Lizzie is with the Dragon Bankers. Your mission just got infinitely more complicated. This is none of my business. I'll leave you to it. My advice is to ask politely for an appointment. There is no way you're going to force your way in."

"Yeah, sure," Kirk scoffed. "That's really going to happen, maybe when hell freezes. Harper, messing with the Dragons is way above my pay grade."

"I don't understand who are 'the dragon bankers?'"

"My goddess damned grandfather," Niamh snarled. "The other shoe has finally dropped. I knew he wasn't telling me the complete story. The Dragons are Oldtown's bankers. They are the power behind the scenes for every being in the city and surrounding area. The old Dragon's hoard is the basis of Oldtown's money supply. Nobody trusts anybody here, so when you want to put together a contract or make an investment, you go to the Dragons. They provide the guarantees that the other party will follow through. Nobody breaks a promise to the Dragons unless you and your entire clan have a death wish. They are like a local bank, the federal reserve and the court system rolled into one ruthless and powerful organization. Think the Rothschild family in Europe with a private army."

"Goddess," Katherine muttered, "what on earth do they want with Elisabeth?"

"We need to find out."

"I suggest you try real hard to behave yourself and keep them from getting mad enough to throw your mutilated bodies into a renderer's vat. At any event, you're on your own," Quinn said and rose to his feet. I have a project of my own here. I don't have time to babysit you two. Be careful and stay out of the Desolate."

Niamh gave him a white lipped glare.

"What's the Desolate?" asked Katie.

Kirk answered her, "That's what they call the catacombs under the city. It's actually an ancient salt mine. Picture every slum you ever heard of and multiply it by a hundred. The place is like a pitch-black termite colony."

Quinn gave them a wave and walked to the door. The emerald-haired dryad bar maid stopped him, leaned in and whispered, "See the Oracle."

He smiled and passed her a roll of pennies to pay for their meals. She gave him a brilliant smile, threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek. Then shot a saucy smile of triumph at Niamh and Katherine.

"Sweet Mother, he's such an asshole," Niamh huffed.