Chương 10: Chapter 9 – Wayward sons

"What are you doing here?" Edrin didn't wait for an answer, all but dragging Bracken away from the door and around the corner. He pushed Bracken into the narrow alley between Silk's Laundry and the half-rotten warehouse next door, peeking around the corner himself to check whether they had been followed.

"Me? I was just stopping in for breakfast. I heard they do a mean buffet in there," Bracken grinned.

"Bracken!" Edrin slapped the wall, looking more like a guard than a brother for a moment.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?"

"Following someone," Bracken answered, brushing off his brother's restraining hand. He tried to twist past Edrin to see around the corner himself, but Edrin pressed a hand against the wall, blocking him with his arm.

"Your turn, what are you doing here?"

"Hold on, no, we're not brushing past that. Who in Varr's name are you following at this end of town? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Edrin spoke in a hushed voice, the muscle in his cheek feathering as he chewed on his nerves. He kept glancing back towards the street as if it weren't utterly empty.

"No," Bracken snapped, frustration flaring. Edrin was only two years older; he had no right acting like only one of them was a fool for being there.

"I was just going to check if someone was in there and then I was going to leave. Alright?"

"Well don't. There's no one in there you should be getting tangled up with." Edrin kept whispering, though Bracken could scarcely see the point. The stonework was practically vibrating with the sound of revelry within. No one inside would overhear them.

"And I suppose it's a different story for you? What were you doing in there?" Bracken did his best to stand tall and glare, refusing to be chastised. He still only came up to Edrin's chin.

"Keep your voice down. It's a fucking brothel, Bracken, what do you think I was doing?" Edrin crossed his arms and leaned back.

"What, you nipped down for a quick tussle before your shift?" Bracken challenged. Edrin always crossed his arms when he was lying. Probably one of the reasons their father hadn't fought him on becoming a guard instead of joining the family business. A good merchant had to be able to lie from time to time.

"I've been here since last night," Edrin lied. He was wearing a white linen shirt and black slacks. A whiff of incense clung to him, heady and sweet, but there was no sour stink of booze or sweat and his clothes were scarcely wrinkled. Bracken just raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Fine," Edrin threw up his hands. He looked around again, as if confirming they really were alone, and pulled Bracken further into the shadows off and away from the street.

"I'm working. Guard stuff. I'm investigating some crimes. Real black business, the sort of things that might involve low-Stained." Bracken stilled, the shadows feeling less like cover and more like a trap at the mention of low-Stained. Only the blackest of souls could resonate with Braethur and or Thulmor, the tainted Planes of beasts and shadows. Assassins, murderers, conmen, and thieves. Their powers were things of horror, their deeds the stuff of campfire stories.

Their existence wasn't illegal per se, but none would trust them or welcome them into their homes. He glanced sidelong at his brother, a kernel of doubt still caught in his mind.

"And they sent you down here to deal with that? Alone? Shouldn't that be Warden business? You're not even in uniform."

"Oh, aye, that would go well for everyone. I'll just get a dozen of the boys, and we can all march in the front door of Tallow's own club. We'll kick down the doors, start taking names and asking questions. I'm sure they'll all cooperate, especially the two dozen Stained in there." Edrin cuffed Bracken on the back of the head, gently enough that it didn't really hurt.

"Of course, I came alone. I was meeting with an informant, getting intel. If it comes to action, the Wardens will get involved, but in the meantime, this might be my opportunity to make Inspector." Bracken blew out a slow breath at that ambition. Inspector was no low goal. The Wardens recruited in different ways for different tasks. Something about the temperament and nature that best fit the Stains they used in their work.

A promising young detective with a good head on his shoulders could earn training in their order, and with it, a chance to cultivate a Stain of Gnoros. Ten years of service would be a small price to pay for the life that sort of power could afford a person. Bracken would never take that sort of deal himself, of course. Power should set a man free, not sell him into bondage. But to each their own.

"Shit," said Bracken, the word too small for all the meaning attached to it. He wasn't sure what else to say. His scalp prickled as he processed the rest of what Edrin had said. Two dozen Stained in one building. Tallow's own bar. He suddenly felt like he was swimming in deep waters with no inkling of what circled beneath.

"Shit," Edrin agreed with a nod.

"Come on, let's get you home before you get us both killed."

Edrin guided Bracken back to Glasshill like some awkward fusion of a mother duck and a stray cat. Bracken lost count of the number of times Edrin glanced at him as if worried he'd wandered more than two feet away, shepherding him through backstreets and across minor bridges. They didn't cross back over Fisher's bridge, or any of the other major bridges where alternatives existed, though it made the walk take three times as long. Bracken followed along obediently.

Better to avoid getting tangled up in Guard business, and the less they talked, the less likely Edrin would be to ask any more questions about Bracken's own plans. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They finally arrived home, entering the front gate together with the unspoken intent of separating and each sneaking back in through their windows or side doors of choice.

It was just bad luck that Lio and Garron were heading out the front door in that same moment.

"Fuck," Edrin breathed so only Bracken could hear. He couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Reluctantly, they stuck to the main path, marching directly towards the eldest brother and their father. The four of them stopped a few feet apart in the centre of the garden. A water fountain burbled beside them, stone mermaids pouring water endlessly into a tasteful pond wherein their father kept imported fish. Lio grimaced, having the decency to look guilty about what side of the standoff he was standing on.

Lio kept his mane of blonde hair tied back. He was as tall as their father and had inherited his good looks from their mother's side. He was the heir and the favourite son, not only because of his status as eldest, but because he was the cleverest, the most obedient, and the only one of them with any interest in the family business. But at least he felt bad about it. Garron just sighed, mouth tugging down at the corners as if he wanted to frown but couldn't quite be bothered.

"Productive morning, boys?" Economical as ever, the man managed to fit a lot of judgement into three words. Tall, broad, dark hair greying at the temples and a face that grew sterner by the year, Garron may as well have been carved from the marble he was so proud of importing.

"Productive evening, father," Edrin smiled, arms folded.

"We've been touring the city, sampling all the many wines that you import, taking a census of the local tastes and how well your wares perform. Important market research."

"Is that so? And?" Garron humoured him humourlessly.

"Turns out people are very fond of the effects, but after a few glasses, they can't tell any of them apart," Edrin cupped a hand beside his mouth, whispering conspiratorially. Garron placed a hand on his middle son's shoulder.

"I'm glad you found your calling in the guard, son, because you're a shitty actor. I don't care what dive you fished your brother out of but don't try to cover for him by pretending you were together. I'm sure you have a shift to get to." Edrin winced, shooting Bracken an apologetic look. Bracken was sure only he noticed the pleading look in Edrin's eye. Edrin needn't have worried; Bracken would never rumble a lie to their father as a matter of principle.

It was his self-appointed responsibility as the youngest son to be disobedient and disappointing at every opportunity. Garron's generally low regard for Bracken's competence was the only thing sparing him from being saddled with an actual job in the Silver Chalice Trading Company.

"You know, I did bathe this morning, actually," Bracken smiled. He surreptitiously raised an arm and sniffed himself to be sure, eyes widening at the stink. A hangover and nerves had made him sweatier than he realised, and his hands and cloak were filthy after his misadventure on the rooftops. He tucked his scuffed palms into his pockets.

"You wouldn't know it from looking at you," his father finally worked up the energy to frown properly, looking his youngest son from head to toe and liking precious little of what he saw.

"I'll go get cleaned up then, shall I?" Bracken tried to step between Lio and Garron, headed for the house. Best to make a fast exit in those sorts of situations. His father placed a hand flat on Bracken's chest, a gaudy ring decorating each finger like he was worried people might think he couldn't afford a band of precious metal for every knuckle.

"No, don't worry about it. No sense ruining a second outfit. You're only going to spend the day unloading cargo anyway."

"What?" Bracken looked to Lio for help and received only the slightest shake of his head.

"No, I have plans."

"Not anymore, you don't. You're seventeen Bracken. More than old enough for an apprenticeship. Old enough to help with the business. Too old to be running about in the muck with your friends in the Gutters."

"I wasn't running about in the muck," Bracken protested.

"I slipped, alright? It was an accident. I can't help today, I'm sorry, but I really do have plans." His father slapped him. Not hard. Casually. Barely enough to even hurt beyond the sting to his pride.

"I'm sorry that you think I was making a request. A ship came in this morning with cargo for the warehouse. You'll spend the day unloading it with the men under Lio's supervision."

"That's not fair," Bracken winced as soon as the words left his lips, hating that he sounded like a whining child. He needed to be down in the Gutters planning with the others. Four days was scarcely enough time as it was, and someone still needed to follow Cinder and Pike to figure out the rest of their routine, if they even had one.

"What's not fair, Bracken, is that you, unlike the other labourers, can simply choose to be more. You have that privilege. At any point after today, in fact. You can wake up tomorrow, make yourself presentable, and join me in my office. You can learn the business side of things and contribute to the work that makes all of this possible," he gestured around them at the estate he was so proud of.

"The rest of the men you'll spend the day beside don't have that opportunity, no matter how much they might want it. Some might have the right aptitude, the right skill, but they lack the opportunity that you have simply by being born into this family. An opportunity that remains yours, no matter how hard you try to squander it with this endless childish rebellion. That's unfair, Bracken." Bracken felt an angry blush creeping up his face.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking up and making matters worse.

"Father, honestly, I didn't find him in a bar. He was drinking last night, that's true, but he came home afterwards. We just went for a run this morning, the two of us. Bracken was curious about how we train in the Guard, so I put him through his paces," Edrin managed to sound convincing. Easier, Bracken supposed, when the scrutiny was on someone else.

"He was even asking me about joining the Wardens. He doesn't lack for ambition, our little brother." Garron snorted in disdain, then caught himself. He had the decency to look apologetically towards Edrin, clearly not meaning to seem so dismissive of his middle son's dreams, even if he didn't agree with them.

"The Guard already has one of my sons. It won't get a second. My decision stands, regardless. We need to get the ship unloaded quickly and tidily. Lio and I have a meeting with the Magister this afternoon and cannot be delayed." Despite himself, Bracken's eyes widened in appreciation. The Magister was a tall step up from innkeepers and restauranteurs. Small wonder the patriarch of the Mercer family was in a fouler mood than usual if he was stressing about that.

Bracken let himself be escorted back out the front gate and towards a day of honest, boring work. Edrin waved him an apologetic farewell. Bracken nodded goodbye, grit his teeth and glared at the ground. He was rarely so self-conscious of his height or his status in the family as when he was hemmed between Lio and Garron. Frustration poured insults and complaints across his tongue like bitter poison, but he kept them locked behind his teeth.

He refused to whine and prove himself as small and childish as his father accused him of being. A day of work meant coin, at least. And despite what Garron thought, Bracken was ambitious. He'd need plenty of coin to pull off his plans.