Sporemageddon

Death Cap - Five - Passing as Innocent to Hide the Knife

“Pl-please don’t hurt me,” I whimpered while I worked as hard as I could to get my hands up and onto the face of the person straddling me on the ground. If I could only jam my thumbs into his eyes and rip them out…

“Dregs!”

“Get off!” Stew shouted.

“The kid’s got some fight, why are you all so afraid for it?” the goblin atop me growled.

I needed a knife. Maybe one in a sheath around my wrists or something where I’d be able to grab it easily. “Get off me! Please!” I whined.

The goblin turned and stared down at me, teeth set in a dangerous grin. “No,” he said, and I got a whiff of his rancid breath. “You’ve got a lot of fight in you for someone who’s calling out surrender.”

A hand reached down and grabbed the goblin by the back of the shirt and suddenly his weight was off me.

I scrambled back and onto my feet, grabbing my bag as I did. Why hadn’t I brought at least a knife?

“Put me down, Gary,” the goblin said. “Or maybe you want to feel my wrath next?”

The man I assumed was Gary shook the goblin from side to side. “Shut up, Dregs. What is wrong with you, attacking a kid like that?”

“You heard it insulting me!” he growled.

Gary tossed the goblin down, then pointed a finger at its face. “Don’t fucking move,” he warned. Then, to Stew and I, he spoke a little softer. “I’m sorry about that. You called him a goblin. He’s not. It’s considered a great insult among his kind to compare them to goblins.”

I waited a few seconds, taking in my surroundings. A few heads had poked over the fence to see what was going on, and some of the boys that’d been loitering outside were looking within. I wiped my behind free of dust. “It’s fine,” I said cautiously. “I didn’t mean to insult… him? If he’s not a… you know, then what is he?”

“I’m a hobgoblin,” he said.

I had no idea what the difference between that and a goblin was. To be fair, the only goblins I’d seen were from way off and in the papers, and the latter were usually dressed in some insulting manner.

“Alright then,” I said. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it,” Dregs said.

“I don’t,” I shot back. “But my back hurts and you scared a few years off of me, so fair’s fair.”

He grumbled, but a warning look from Gary kept him back.

“You’re not the kid of anyone from here. And I’d recognise any two-limbed man passing by,” Gary said. “What are you here for?”

“I’m not part of your union,” I said. “I’m here to talk with someone responsible.”

Gary hooked his thumbs through his belt. “And what about?” he asked.

I sat up straighter to try and make myself seem a little more reliable. “I’ve started a business here, in the slums, and I’m looking for a bit of assistance. I thought that I’d ask here, since you people know that kind of thing well. And… and I need some information.”

“What sort of business?

“And what sort of information?” Gary asked.

“Are you the one I’d have to talk to if I wanted to strike a deal?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Shrewd one, aren’t you? Dregs, keep an eye on the kid’s friend here. Unless he’s the one we’re dealing with?” I shook my head. “In that case, follow me.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I gave Stew a nod, then followed after Gary as he led me to the right towards the side where a small office section had been built into the factory. It was two stories tall, with a metal staircase on the exterior leading to a landing above. No railings, because no one cared about safety around here.

We clanged up the steps, Gary a step or two ahead of me. He knocked twice on the door, waited, then knocked five times in a quick pattern. It wasn’t quite shave-and-a-haircut, but it wasn’t far from that.

“Is that you, Gary?”

“It’s me, Janet. Does the boss have a minute? We have someone here for him.”

A chain rattled and the door swung open. A middle-aged woman stood there, in a clean and serviceable dress.

There was a small office behind her. Some cabinets, a few shelves. Ugly carpet on the floor and a single desk next to a door leading deeper in. I imagined that that was where the boss was hiding.

“Come on in,” Janet said. She invited us into the space, and I found myself a little weirded out. It was a lot cleaner than any place I’d been to recently, shitty wallpaper and all. The ceiling was a bit stained by cigarette smoke, and judging from the ashtray on the desk, that was Janet’s fault, but otherwise the place was spotless. “What do you need to speak to Markham about?”

Gary glanced down at me, and I figured he wasn’t going to help me any more than he had. I took a step towards Janet. “Hello ma’am,” I began. “I’m from Clearford, ma’am, and I’ve recently started my own business. I make, cook, and sell mushrooms. I’ve been considering expanding, and I thought it only fair that I look for some help from my local union.”

Janet stared at me for a moment. “How old are you?” she asked.

I considered lying, but decided against it. “I’m six,” I said.

“And who set you up for all of this?”

“No one, ma’am, I’m acting under my own initiative.”

She looked up to Gary. “Is this a prank?”

“I don’t think so, no,” he said. “Kid’s got gumption is all.”

“And is the kid carrying any weapons?” Janet asked.

“Well, I didn’t look,” Gary said.

“I’m not,” I piped up.

Janet crossed her arms, looking mightily unimpressed. “You know, the Bluertons wouldn’t blink at stooping so low as to send a child out to do their dirty work.”

“I don’t work for them,” I said. I think some of my anger showed because she glanced down at me for a moment.

“Check them for weapons, as you ought to have done already. I’ll speak to Markham and see if he has time.”

Gary shrugged apologetically as he turned to me then got to one knee. I was patted down, which was uncomfortable, but he was professional and fast. He took my bag too, and checked through it. Of course, he found the puffballs I’d stuffed in there, but I don’t think he could tell them apart from any other mushroom.

That… was lucky, probably. What if he could tell that they were dangerous? Then what?

Janet returned from the office. “Mister Markham will be ready to meet you now,” she said.

I nodded my thanks and stepped into the next office. There were two people there. A middle-aged man with a bit of a potbelly behind a big desk, and a second man in plain clothes standing with his arms crossed by the corner. A guard?

“Hello little one,” the man behind the desk said after looking me up and down.

“Hello, sir,” I replied.

He was well-dressed. A button-up and suspenders, with a bowler hat sitting on the edge of his desk to complete the look and a coat hanging from a hook next to the door. “Please, sit,” he said with a gesture to one of the chairs across from his desk.

I sat. “Thank you for having me, sir,” I said.

“Well, Janet said you were interesting, and so far she’s not wrong. So, how can Local Clearford help you?”

I paused. That was the district of the city we were in. I imagined that the union was split up, otherwise it would be far too easy to take it out. “I’m a native from here, and I’ve been looking to start a business. I thought that maybe you could help me.”

“We do give out loans on occasion,” he said, but I was shaking my head already. “Not that, then. I’m curious, what sort of business does a six-year-old run?”

“I sell mushrooms,” I said. “And I grow them too.” I opened my satchel and plucked one out. It was one of the more magical ones. I knew because I’d put it at the very top. It was my nicest mushroom so far.

Markham took it and looked at it from a few different angles. “Impressive, I suppose. Can you grow anything else?”

“Just mushrooms,” I said.

“Interesting. We don’t usually have businesses reach out to us, you know. Most of the time it’s the other way around.”

“I need help, and I need information,” I said. “I don’t earn much besides, only enough to keep my family fed and my little farm going. If I can grow, I can earn more, and then I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

He chuckled. “And you came yourself instead of your father, why?”

“I don’t have a father anymore,” I said.

“Oh, forgive me. The number of orphans in this city is… terrible.”

I nodded. “The Bluertons killed him.”

I think I could have heard a pin drop.

Markham hadn’t been taking me seriously. I knew because now his idle curiosity sharpened, and I almost felt his gaze on me.

***