Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [120]
“Hello, you lot.” Randur picked up the youngest, a blond angel with dark smudges all over her face. “So how’re Denlin’s little golems?”
“Oi, we’re not golems,” the child griped. “Denny, tell him we’re not golems.” She began to pull at locks of Randur’s long black hair.
“Indeed you are all golems,” Denlin said, his face creasing with delight. “But, girls, I want you to be on your best behavior now because we’ve a very special visitor.” He tilted his head toward Eir.
“Oh no,” Eir objected. “Don’t be wary on my behalf. Pretend I’m not here.”
The girls all stared at Eir with renewed awe.
“Lovely to meet you all,” Eir said, self-consciously. “Have you all just woken up?”
“Well, yes,” the tallest said. “Actually we’ve been up for ages, thanks to Opri’s fidgeting. She even woke our mam up with her kickin’.”
Eir looked to Denlin in disbelief. “They all sleep in the same bed?”
“Aye, lady,” he replied. “It’s a small house, like. Big compared to most down here, and there’s only room for one bed. I’m out most of the night you see, while they sleep, earning some coin. Then when I come back in the morning, the bed’s all nice and warm for me. And when they all wake me up again in the evening, the bed’s all nice and warm for them.”
Eir said nothing to that. Denlin allowed the girls to go out and play in the streets, but only as long as they fetched some water back from the well.
It was then that Eir turned to Randur, her face showing distress. Coming here, seeing how people actually lived in her city, might do her the world of good, he reckoned. The girl needed some enlightening.
“I’d offer you some tea,” Denlin apologized, “but I ran out last week. And as for food, well … we haven’t got too much in just now, you see. The lad here has been my main employer, so to speak, in recent weeks.”
“Oh, no, I’m quite all right,” Eir said. “Really. I never realized quite how … well, it’s very tough for you, isn’t it?” She took a seat at the table, resting her elbows on the grimy wood.
“Aye, miss.” Denlin subsided onto the wooden chair opposite her. “Times is tough, and not many jobs down this side of the city. I mean, you got your traders and smiths. You got your leather workers, bakers, craftsmen, that sort of thing naturally. You got a lot of gambling going on—dogfights, mainly—and some stranger things happening in the really old caves. You get cultists there—just the rubbish, solitary ones. Ones that’s addicted to their relics like it’s a drug. They make a fair living by tricking people, like. People’ll buy anything with their last coin if they think it might help them. But I ain’t sure how long it’ll all last when the Freeze sets in. Meanwhile, people find odd jobs, and wealth trickles about. There’s usually something that needs doing, like, even if it’s not really legal.”
He gazed silently across the table for a moment, his fingers prodding at the wood delicately as if searching blindly for solutions.
Denlin then continued. “Some people get desperate, head right down through the caves to the old mining systems. Sometimes they disappear for days. Older men, mainly, remembering the old tunnels. They come back covered in blackness, but clutching a bit of precious metal, a gemstone found here and there.” He grinned. “Bit of a metaphor, that. In times like these you find people quickly forget coin as a currency. They start bartering, trading things for favors. There’s a lot of whores in that respect—women and men too. This anarchist group is gaining some big interest in trying to stop that sort of thing, aye, and they’ve got the support of a lot of women who want proper equality.” He absentmindedly placed his hand on a copy of the pamphlet Commonweal. “People’s starting to feel like slaves to those what gives us jobs, like. I shouldn’t be saying this, lady, but