Bad Seed

Finn stood on the lake’s gravelly shore and breathed in the cave’s distinct scent of ash and moss. Excitement filled his chest and a jittery impatience invaded his limbs. This had to be the place from Noak’s stories, he thought, this had to be the Night Port, the final stop before Haven.

Finn scaled a nearby boulder to get a better view of the scene opposite him. Across the dark water tall lamps shone over a small port. People moved along interconnecting platforms and docks, their bodies black silhouettes in the distance.

Squinting into the far reaches of the vast watery cavern, Finn searched for a sign of the shining city. He needed a flicker of light or a small beacon to confirm his hunch, but the darkness hid all trace of Haven and concealed the lake’s true size. He opened his body to the tiniest drip of the Source and sharpened his sight. He knew he shouldn’t be using the power—he still didn’t have complete control over the unpredictable creature producing it—but he’d already broken so many of Noak’s rules that one more would hardly make a difference. He peered again into the darkness and shook his head in frustration. Even with the Source, the entrance to the city evaded him. It could be a kilometre away or it could be a dozen.

Undeterred, Finn travelled the shore’s curving path, until a fleet of abandoned vessels blocked his way. He found a largely intact boat, wedged between a rickety pier and a half-sunken wreck, and he climbed its curved hull. The metal sheets were flaky with rust and littered with small holes. Finn pulled his body over the side, ducking low as the light from the Night Port washed over him. He crawled across the crumbling deck.

Peeking over the edge, he watched the port’s activity. Cargo boats lined the Night Port’s jetties, each at different stages of unloading. There were guards here too, more than double that of the surface entrance. They patrolled the network of piers and the strip of dry land between lake and cave wall.

Finn tracked a group of soldiers, as they marched towards a loaded barge. They ordered the workers to assemble on the upper deck. Half the soldiers inspected the men’s work papers while the others used their dogs to search the lower cargo area for stowaways. Only when they were satisfied, did the boat pulled away from the jetty.

Finn watched their movements as fatigue tugged at his eyelids. He noticed how the soldiers were stationed before the entrance of every pier save one, a small thin platform covered in crates and metal drums sitting in the middle of the others. If Finn could get underneath this pier, he might be able to travel unnoticed across the Night Port and slip aboard a departing barge once the soldiers have done their inspection. He just needed a way to get to there.

“Come on, think!” Finn tapped himself on the forehead, but no answer came.

Finn searched the deck until he found a hatch and a ladder into the hull. Below, he located a somewhat dry section and curled up on a pile of coarse cargo netting. He ate the piece cheese he’d stolen cheese from the guards at the surface entrance.

Noak’s stories whispered through his mind. He’d heard them all so many times he could recall them word for word. His favourites were the small tales, the ones where Noak told of his family and his adventures in the shining city of Haven.

Haven.

Even the name was beautiful.

In the darkest moments of Finn’s life, the thought of this city had always given him hope. Hope there was a place in the broken world a person could be safe, warm and happy. The moment Finn had heard of Haven’s existence, he’d promised he would find it and fight to make it a home for himself and everyone he loved. Now he was close. Only a body of water stood between him and his dream.

A deep peace settled over him. Certainty swelled in his heart. He listened to the sounds around him and let the water batting against the hull’s metal side lull him to sleep.

***

Finn woke to a distant horn. The deep low sound entered the hull and reverberated along the metal walls. He untangled himself from his makeshift bed and dashed up the ladder. He scrambled across the pockmarked deck to the railing and scanned the darkness.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, and a light appeared on the ink-black water. It grew brighter. The inhabitants of the port stirred at the signal. Men and women emerged from the cave wall, swelling the crowd. A neat queue formed at the beginning of the port’s largest pier beneath a sign that read: Haven ferry.

This was Finn’s chance.

He abandoned the wreck, hitting the ground with a small thump. Finn ran, stealing from shadow to shadow. He paused behind at a giant rusted propeller to scan the road ahead. People flowed past. He picked his moment and slipped amongst a ragtag huddle of men.

Finn moved with this group as they headed towards the ferry. He stayed with them until he was parallel to his chosen pier. A guard marched by and Finn slide from the masses. Exposed as he was, his body urged him to run, but he forced his legs to slow. His goal was only a dozen metres away, so close.

“Hey! You there, boy!”

He heard the guard’s challenge and panicked. He sidestepped, on instinct joining the end of a nearby queue. People formed behind him. He waited.

When the guards didn’t immediately yank him from the line, he risked a covert glance over his shoulder. In his peripherals, he saw two guards harassing a young boy a few metres away. They demanded his work papers and when the boy couldn’t hand them over, the largest guard cuffed him across the ear and dragged him towards the cave wall. The other guard lingered, scanning the crowd. The man took up position at a fire drum right between Finn and the pier.

Finn cursed his rotten luck. For the moment, he was stuck.

“Keep calm,” he whispered to himself.

The line moved forward. He craned his neck. At the head of the queue, two men in red robes sat at a wooden table. A grubby woman handed the first man a trinket. He fixed his crooked spectacles and weighed the item on a pair of shiny scales, adjusting the balance with small square weights. He nodded and counted out a series of tin coins.

“Thank you, Coin Keeper,” she said with a grateful bow.

The second robed man stooped over an open ledger, fanning the pages with his fingers. The worker before him clasped a greasy cap in his hands. After some discussion over the worker’s skills, the robed man took the top sheet from a stack of blank paper. He wrote in a flourishing hand. When he was done, he used a lump of red wax to stamp the top corner of the page and signed the bottom.

“Here’s your work permit,” the second robed man said. “Report to the Commerce Chamber as soon as you enter the city. Tell them the Job Seeker sent you. Someone will direct you to the sewerage unit. Next.”

On the lake, the horn sounded twice to announce the ferry’s arrival. The boat pulled up to the platform in a cloud of smoke and steam. A worker on board threw the mooring rope to a guard, while another worker lowered a platform to the pier. The passengers descended and those waiting along the jetty moved into their place, crowding onto the boat’s narrow deck. It only took a few heartbeats for the exchange to happen. The boat chugged away. Finn groaned. The man in front turned to offer him a brief sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry, kid,” the man said before facing forward again, “you can always take the Market Ferry.”

Finn was about to ask what time the Market Ferry would arrive when a splash of colour captured his eye. A young woman in a pale blue dress pushed a wooden cart through the thick crowd. The bright red, blue, yellow and green panels provided a sharp contrast to the dull grey and brown of their surroundings. The cart rolled on three black tyres and stood as tall as the young woman’s shoulders. Finn read the words painted on the side panel:

Junker Amos Jefferson, purveyor and restorer of precious surface antiquities.

At the sight of the old man’s name, his palms started to sweat, and his heart sped up. The young woman stopped opposite him and tucked a few stray brown locks beneath her dark blue headscarf. Finn held himself still, afraid the smallest movement would draw her gaze. He searched, carefully, for the Junker’s grey head. If the old man was nearby, Finn was done for.

As if reading his thoughts, the young woman looked up. Finn tensed to bolt, but her green eyes drifted over him and the others standing in the queue and travelled to the jetties on the lake shore. Finn followed her gaze and noticed a podium attached to the main pier. There, a row of men knelt before a handful of guards.

A throat cleared beside him. “Barter or work?”

Finn had reached the front of the line. The Coin Keeper pushed his thick gold spectacles high on the bridge of his nose, magnifying his hard brown eyes. “Well?”

Finn didn’t know how to answer. He tried to say something that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“Um…I want to go to Haven.”

“It will cost you a lumiere to take the Market Ferry,” the Coin Keeper said, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Payment can be made at the entrance to the pier. I don’t appreciate time wasters. Next.”

The man behind Finn tried to push him out of the way. He stood his ground.

“I haven’t got a... uh…luminar.”

The Coin Keeper tapped his scale with a polished fingernail. “You are certainly welcome to barter something in exchange for tokens. What are you offering?”

“Offering?” Finn asked.

The two robed men shared a glance.

“You do realise you’re standing in the barter and work queue?”

“Yes. Let me barter.”

The man squinted through the thick glass of his spectacles, assessing Finn’s possessions. “Go on, then.”

“I’ve got this jacket,” Finn said, showing him the collar. “It’s warm and waterproof.”

The man wrinkled his nose. “We don’t take rags. Items of quality only.”

Finn looked himself over, searching for something he could use. “I don’t have anything of quality.”

The man pointed to the sheath at Finn’s belt. “What about your knife? If the blade is in good condition, I’ll give you four lumieres for it.”

He placed his hands on the wooden handle. “It was a gift from my sister.”

“Five tokens then, final offer.”

Finn shook his head. “I’d never part with it.”

“Then I can’t help you.” The Coin Keeper waved his hand to shoo him away.

“What about work?” Finn said, still refusing to move.

The Job Seeker sighed. He picked up his quill and tapped the nib, flicking fine droplets onto his fingertips.

“Skills?”

“I know my letters and numbers,” Finn said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“We’re not looking for a guild member. We want practical skills. Can you cook, iron, clean?”

“I can hunt,” Finn said. “I can skin a rat in under ten seconds.”

The man huffed, not at all impressed with Finn’s range of abilities.

“Show me your left wrist and your teeth.”

Finn followed these strange requests and the Job Seeker turned to his companion. “His health seems excellent for a Smoker, even if his hygiene is less than desirable.”

The Coin Keeper leant over the table and studied Finn’s bare feet. “He’s very poorly shod.”

“My feet are tough,” Finn said. “I don’t need shoes. I can do any job you put to me … as long as it’s in Haven.”

“That might be true,” the Coin Keeper said with a sniff. “But the boy is hardly fit to stand before honest Citizens.”

The Job Seeker dragged his fingers down the page. “The kitchens are full in any case, as are the lighting and cleaning units.”

The Coin Keeper scratched his chin. “The boy is rather diminutive. Surely his stature would be an asset somewhere?”

“We are always on the lookout for smallish people to work the quarry.” The Job Seeker flipped to the back of the ledger and scanned the page. “Ah, here it is.”

The Coin Keeper studied the words over his colleague’s arm and gave a satisfied nod that upset his glasses. “A trapper! A very respectable position, I should say.”

Finn felt a spark of hope. He could be a trapper, it sounded just like hunting. And with a work permit getting on the ferry should be much easier.

“Okay. If it’s trapping in Haven, I’ll take it.”

Exasperated, the Job Seeker shook his head. “Not Haven, boy. It’s a position opening the ventilation trapdoors in the mines…of the Darkzone.”

“No,” Finn said. “Thank you, but I want to work in the city.”

“Your choice.” The Job Seeker closed the large ledger with a thud.

The man behind shoved Finn out of the line. Finn glanced left and right in a panic, but to his relief, the guard had already abandoned his spot by the fire drum. Free, he darted through the crowd and headed towards the unguarded pier. In the distance a whistle blew. Lights appeared on the lake again, moving towards them at a rapid pace.

The Market Ferry was coming.