“Surely not,” Áed agreed. “Still, I’d like to try.”
The man, whose name Áed could not recall, bellowed with laughter. Still guffawing, he grabbed Áed’s shoulder’s again and steered him roughly in the direction of the water. Against the railings, buffeted by the wind off the sea, a group of ragged people clustered around little piles of tiles and coins. “Everyone,” the man announced, dropping heavily into an open space marked with a bottle of skee, “this is that fellow I was talkin’ about yesternight. Remember that?”
“You weren’t jokin’ about the eyes,” someone noted, and the man who’d introduced Áed coughed in the speaker’s direction.
“I’m no liar. Red as fire, I said, and I ain’t wrong. ‘Bout his hands, neither. See that?” He took a swig from his bottle. “Anyhow, he’s joining us.” Around the circle sounded halfhearted greetings, and Áed took a seat.
Someone dealt him in, and Áed took the chance to glance around at the few assembled men and women. The woman to his right had a calculating sort of glint in her eye, but the rest of the faces were as blank as stones.
Tiles clacked on the rough pavers, but Áed didn’t watch the movement of the pieces so much as he watched the faces of the players. When everyone had set their chips, peeking down at the tiles hidden in their palms, a thickset man across the circle grunted with satisfaction. “Bet time.”
Licking his lips, Áed took another look around the circle. The glint had gone from the woman’s eye, but her face was set to look confident; she definitely didn’t have anything. The men beside her maintained perfect blankness in their faces, but Áed could feel their uncertainty rolling off of them. The man who had accosted Áed in the alley appeared relatively pleased with his lot, but Áed felt nervousness oozing from the man like sweat; Áed could practically smell it. Taking a deep breath, Áed reached into his pocket and drew out a little pouch: the last earnings from Ninian’s previous fight. He set it in the center as everyone else placed their bets.
The man who’d dealt Áed his tiles spread his hands wide with an air of drama, and everyone revealed their hand. “Egh,” the dealer grunted thickly. “Got a winner.”
Áed let his tiles fall and collected everyone’s bets. “Another round?”
He played until the good-natured atmosphere began to wane. When he caught the first frustrated, sideways glance in his direction, he stood, thanked the players respectfully, and left before anything came to blows.
The noises of the docks fell away as Áed jogged through the streets, moving briskly to bring some feeling into his legs, which had fallen asleep while he’d sat on the ground. He’d done well at the game, as usual, and, after a bit of scavenging, he hoped he’d be able to afford a decent meal. Ronan, especially, could use it. To feed Ronan, Áed would have willingly made the trip to the docks more often, but that came with certain danger. Unless he threw the games, which he couldn’t much afford to do, he won, and he did not want to earn the kind of enemy that gambled at the docks.
Weaving expertly through the familiar streets, Áed kept his focus on the ground, in the shadows of tenements, in the gutters. The chill of the spring air felt clammy as Áed kept an eye out for any refuse with a scrap of value, and he moved with purpose, hurrying to get home.
✽ ✽ ✽
He returned to his tenement when the sun began to set, having found a trampled glove that, with his newly-earned money, he traded with Máel Máedóc for some food. Máel Máedóc was a tall, broad man with shimmering blue eyes set deeply behind sharp, pitch-dark cheekbones, but despite his dramatic appearance, he was a gentle enough sort. His soft spot for Áed dated back years, and though Áed couldn’t remember exactly how it had come to be, there remained between them a mutual respect. Though still a few coins short, Áed left with enough food to bring back home.
Áed found Ronan sitting on the tenement steps as he turned onto the dusty path toward the building. The boy looked up, his green eyes caught Áed’s face, and relief washed over his expression. He jumped up and nearly knocked Áed’s freshly-bought bread onto the road as he half-tackled Áed into a hug.
“Whoa!” Áed exclaimed as Ronan drew back, sniffling. “What’s the matter?”
The boy opened his mouth and then closed it again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Why are you outside?” Áed said more gently, and his knees touched the pavers as he knelt to be level with Ronan’s tear-streaked face. “It’s almost nighttime.”
“I know.” Ronan’s voice trembled, and Áed blinked at it for a moment. He hadn’t heard Ronan sound so vulnerable since he was very small.
“Hey,” he said, brushing the boy’s hair off of his brow. “What happened?”
A pair of crystalline tears dripped from Ronan’s bright green eyes and ran around the curves of his cheeks. “I don’t know what to do about Ninian.”
Áed took the boy’s shoulder in his own crumpled excuse for a left hand. “Why?” he said. “Did he snap at you?”
The boy shook his head and choked back a sob. Blinking, Áed drew him closer as worry clouded his mind. Áed could feel Ronan’s fear in his chest, the boy’s emotions whirling and sparking alongside Áed’s own.
“Shh, shh…” Áed murmured in an attempt to comfort him. He tried to silence the anxiety creeping into his voice for fear that it would upset the boy further.
Ronan coughed as a cry stuck in his throat. “Ninian said his chest hurt, and I said that was probably okay, because a bone was broken and that should hurt, right?”
“Right,” Áed murmured, standing. He started moving toward the building.
Another glassy tear trembled in the corner of Ronan’s eye as he hurried to follow. “But then he said it really hurt, and I looked, and it was red under his skin.”
Áed’s heartbeat was loud in his ears like his footsteps’ pounding.
“And now he won’t wake up,” Ronan finished. His voice was pitiful, pleading. “Please, Áed, tell me he’s okay.” His voice crumbled as he chased Áed’s long strides into the tenement.
Áed heard Ronan behind him as he threw open the door to the flat that he shared with his friend.
Best friend.
More than a friend.
Ninian lay still in his chair, the same as he had that morning. His hands, long-fingered, lay limp on the armrests as if he were a bored king holding court over an empty room.
Or rather, not empty.
Áed could sense the bean sídhe, the banshee, inhaling deeply as if to steal the breath from the room, preparing to wail away Ninian’s life.
No. He banished the thought and forced his stiff fingers to find a pulse on Ninian’s neck.
Nothing, nothing, this couldn’t be happening...
There.
Ninian’s heart was beating. Weakly, but beating. Áed was praying, he found, though to whom he didn’t know. To the Gods whose names he invoked only in oath? To nature itself? He didn’t know.