Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2018 23:37:15 +0000 From: Nicholas Nicholby Subject: Boys Guild Chapter 16 This story is a work of fiction. It never happened, it never will. The characters and locations are all make believe and any resemblance to any place or person, living or dead, is simply in the mind of the reader and totally unintentional. Situations and sexual activities of the characters are fantasy, don't try dragon riding at home. The story is also the first in a series of stories about Kind Draviad's Realm. Please let me know if you enjoy by email to nicholas6996 (at) hot mail dot com Copyright 2018 by Nicholas Nicholby, all rights reserved. Not to be distributed or duplicated without express written permission of the author. The author hereby grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to use, modify or alter and edit copy for clarity or style, reproduce, display, make compilations of and distribute the work. The Boys Guild The upcoming chapters of Boys Guild contain some intense situations and may cause trigger events. Please read carefully if you are susceptible. Events include acts of kidnap and imprisonment. Also please consider a small donation to the Nifty Archive. Think of how many times you have read the various authors pleas and think in terms of "if I had a nickel." If Nifty would receive a nickel for every time you think that, it would go a long way toward defraying expenses and insure this free service remains available and free. The DONATE button is above the story indexes and anonymity is a foregone conclusion. No amount is too small to help. Also consider sending me your thoughts on this story. I really appreciate the reactions and comments at Nicholas6996 (at) hotmail.com Chapter 16 - Hair Bows and Body Guards The mist rising from the stone quay didn't reach much past his ankles, but it swirled with patterns and shimmers that totally mesmerized Clipper as he made his way toward the Guild of Boys. It had been a long Queensday. The Cutpurse had his three tots working the large market square since it was the first of the Harvest Feast Faires. Clipper, as the Cutpurse's Stick, had been the one to hone in on the mark and create the diversion which caused them to stay put, focus away from themselves and be more concerned about something other than vigilance. He was good at his job too, he could make almost anyone stop, stay still and look for the few brief seconds the other tots needed. Today Clipper had been dressed in a flouncy frock the cutpurse had found somewhere. Clipper's long hair was braided in pig tails and tied with striking red ribbons. The red combined with Clipper's blonde hair and the white of the blouse and frilly sleeves made a moment of brightness and color in the usual dun and dark colored clothing of the people in the market. The swishing of the shortened skirts which seemed to be held out by voluminous petticoats would attract those eyes which hadn't already succumbed to the color. The fact that Clipper wore nothing under the flouncy dress and always managed to present a complete view of his boy parts to the mark was what made him so successful. Such a pretty little girl was enough to make some look, the sudden glimpsed lance and stones underneath was enough for a second glance and then closer inspection and Clipper's readily forthcoming little twiddle or other provocative stance resulted in an unguarded longer harder look. That the frilly little apparition would often seem to drop something and present a bums up view of tiny rosy red hole with dangling parts beyond would make men of all persuasions almost swoon. However before they knew what happened the vision before them would disappear and later they would discover so had their purse. Perhaps Clipper's greatest accomplishment was that none of the victims every connected what had appeared with what had disappeared. In fact often they would become repeat opportunities as they daily searched throughout the crowds for another chance at that secret glimpse of the strangely seductive and ambiguous loveliness. Now dressed in his boy's tatters but still sporting one of the red ribbons in his re-braided pony tail hair he was skipping along the quay, stomach replete with the meat pie the Cutpurse had awarded them for a grandly successful first day of the Faire. The lateness of the day, the silly whirls of the mist, the warm glow of a full stomach and the heady buzz of a quarter tankard of ale worked together to dull his senses and muddle his normal caution. "Well Albee, looks wha' da' harbor gifts us wit' tonight," a gruff voice broke Clipper's reverie and his stride. "Aye Olaf, I sees the little dandy," a second higher pitched voice came from behind the bollard on Clipper's other side. A sudden yank on his long hair brought Clipper to a stop and his feet were suddenly barely able to touch the ground. "Not a dandy Albee, I thinks a little piece of candy," the first voice poured foul smelling breath into Clipper's face. The massive hand turned Clipper's head about, the swollen eyes beside a crooked nose seemed to be assessing Clipper as a housewife would assess a chicken carcass in the marketplace. "Come along sweetheart, we've a little room with a nice bed where youse can rest away from this here dangerous and filthy dock. Don't squeal none now, wouldn't want to attract no lowlifes now youse findeded your bodyguards. Pretty little body too I'll bet. Albee and me'll be guarding it careful like," a rough hand swept down Clipper's chest and stomach. That it also managed to rip the buttons, what few remained, off the shirt front was not unnoticed. When the shirt was torn off from the back Clipper's first goosebumps of the evening greeted the night's chill. They weren't the last goosebumps either, the next set were raised in trepidation as the mighty hand reached to press in his pants and around his shriveled stones and lance. "Of course that's once we take an invent'ry. Good honest business men you'll find us sure..." Clipper thought briefly of screaming but realized that the only shout from the docks that would draw any notice at all was a sustained yelling of "Fire!" The chances of him getting even a second yell out evaporated as the hand holding him by his hair actually lifted him completely off his feet and his breath was forced out of his body by a smack against his living stones. Being held off the ground and at arms length also precluded any hope of a kick landing with any force or surprise. The arm lifting him seemed immensely powerful and the screaming of his crushed stones and captured scalp took the normal fight right out of him. A passing thought did run across his mind that he knew he shouldn't have kept the lone red ribbon. Albee and Olaf, being the honest businessmen that they claimed, skulked through the back alleys and dark side streets of the harbor area. Olaf did finally tuck the rag doll limp form of Clipper under one massive arm which only proceeded to stuff Clipper's nose into a foul smelling armpit. The filthy scratchy cloth did nothing to enhance the experience. Finally with a banging of a door and stamping of feet jarring his body between enclosing elbow and opposing hip bone Clipper figured they were climbing a staircase. Another door type bang and a definite change in the stillness and fetid warmth of the air went along with returned sight as Clipper found himself flung across a small room and up against an unyielding stone wall. He crumpled to the floor pain from his living stones and scalp forgotten in the swirling of the stars the wall had introduced into his head. Slowly rolling to his side and turning said affronted head he was able to get a bleary first look at his new bodyguards. He thought his choice in employees was not impressive. Olaf was indeed as massive as his arm strength and enclosing embrace had suggested. He was also as disheveled and dressed as coarsely as the cloth against Clipper's face had implied. At least he was more or less clean shaven, or at least had been sometime in the last few weeks. Albee was considerably smaller. And hairier. In fact matted, food encrusted hair sprouted on almost every visible surface of his head, and hands, and neck and chest. Clipper could only imagine his feet and didn't want to imagine other areas not visible. A quick visual survey of the room identified nothing to help him figure out where he was or how he could escape. "Well Albee, what say we have a little dram of ale afore we examine the new merchandise. Run downstairs and bring us up a tankard or three," this said while Olaf was kicking off his mud encrusted boots. Clipper thought that if Olaf felt better with his boots off it was more than outweighed by the increased discomfort of anyone who had to breathe in the same space. He made a small mental note to offer to run down and get the next round of drinks and save Albee the strenuous activity of the stairs. The stairs didn't seem to be a deterrent to Albee. After the fourth trip down and back up again the three of them had settled into a somewhat comfortable cohabitation of the small room. Albee and Olaf sat at the ramshackle table which was covered in empty ale tankards. Clipper leaned against the wall across the room and hovered between fitful sleep and nervous wariness. The men were far less interested in following up on their business acumen than consuming ale. Clipper supposed that was a point in his favor although it seemed kind of a disrespectful attitude. Piece of candy indeed, sweet enough to snatch, but not sweet enough to think about tasting with even a little nibble. He figured he ought to be offended. He also wondered about a tavern that would allow so many tankards to just walk away, unless of course Albee was paying handsomely for the privilege of keeping them. No one had made any mention of money. Neither Albee needing more for the unending ale, nor Olaf offering up any to pay his share. Clipper figured Albee must be a little simple because Olaf was out drinking him two to one and doing none of the stair climbing work. In fact about the only thing other than bending his elbow that Olaf had done was replace the guttering candle three times as it threatened to go out. At least Clipper was able to gauge the passing of the night. Another two candles or nine tankards would bring the dawn. Not that the light in the room would change appreciably, there wasn't a window to the outside that Clipper could discern. And not that dawn would presage any improvement in Clipper's position. That is unless the men both passed out and Clipper could slip from the room. He'd had that thought two candles ago but the apparent unlimited ale capacity of the men dashed hope so far and Clipper's own fitful dozing threatened to squander any presented opportunity. He still just couldn't keep his eyes open in the hot fetid atmosphere of the room. Across town Tomas was just waking at his usual predawn time and beginning to think about dashing to the middens. "Tomas! Tomas!" a small voice reached out from the doorway Tomas had just crossed. "What is it Jaxx, don't wake the others!" Tomas shushed while answering. Jaxx threaded his way on out of the Guild Hall entry and whispered urgently, "Clipper didn't come home last night. He's never stayed out before. I'm worried." "It was Harvest Faire yesterday," Tomas said. "He was working wasn't he?" "Yes, they were at the main square, but other Faires he's always come home. He told me he couldn't sleep anywhere else and asides we always kind of celebrate the Faires." Tomas could almost hear the slight blush of Jaxx talking about celebrating, he smiled because all the boys knew Jaxx and Clipper were inseparable in the evening and night and that 90 percent of the Guild Boys had made some kind of celebration with each other last night. In fact every night. "Okay, do you know where the Cutpurse stays? Where they go at the end of the day?" Tomas asked. "Yes," Jaxx answered, "Well go and check, see if maybe they got distracted and he just forgot to come home. Maybe they had a little celebration of their own there and he fell asleep." "No! He'd never celebrate with anyone but me!" Jaxx adamantly stated. "Now, now, I know that, but they could have the other kind of celebration you know. Like when they do real well and the Cutpurse buys them ale or supper. Maybe he's just sleeping off a little too much to drink." "Oh, well yeah. Oh no! Maybe he got careless and the Guard cuffed him or something," Jaxx had a panicked tone to this thought. "Clipper? Careless? Cuffed?" Tomas laughed. "Sooner the sky and the sea would change colors and it would be brown above and blue below! Not Clipper. Now run and check. It'll be dawn soon so they're bound to be stirring about. Come back and let me know as soon as you find him, `K?" "`K," Jaxx answered reassured and headed off for the Cutpurse's shop. Tomas took himself to the middens and then began his Kingsday morning as he always did, sitting in their little cafe eating a warm loaf with Cobar and watching the sun peak over the city roof tops. He couldn't help but worry a bit though about Clipper. The little scamp was slippery as an eel, but even eels were bought and sold in the market. When Jaxx came tearing back with the news that Clipper had left the others after nightfall heading home to the Guild Tomas too became alarmed. It was past dawn, but it was Kingsday. Most of the boys might lie in a bit, but this was an emergency. "Wake up! Wake up!," Tomas yelled in the Guild Hall doorway. As the grumbling boy's began rousing he added, "Clipper is missing, we must find him." To all the boys credit it wouldn't have mattered if it was Clipper who was loved, the Hide Boy who was tolerated, or Phylo whose mean disposition was generally avoided, the grumbling stopped. The boys rolled out of bed. The cafe tables became a strategy discussion and not just a gossip spot. Tomas took the lead in describing the situation, Jaxx reiterated what he had heard from the Cutpurse. Phylo quickly announced he would head to the boats and find out if any boatmen or fishermen had found any floating bodies. The Apothecary's Runner said he would check among the barbers and physicians and see if there were any poisonings or knifings overnight. The hide boy ran to check the abattoirs and see if any bodies had been dumped with the other offal. Jaxx was getting more and more agitated that everyone seemed to just assume Clipper was now dead. Tomas could see the desperation growing on his face and tried to ease it some. "That's all good and needs to be checked, but there are lots of things that could happen that wouldn't end so badly. I'll check with the Watch to find out if he was cuffed. The rest of you hit the streets, the alleys and the taverns. He would have come from just beyond the postern gate toward here. Let's see if maybe he was just robbed, or even just slipped and hit his head and is out cold somewhere. Go, meet back at noon time or if you find him. Jaxx you come with me, we'll also see if Zekial can help." It must have been after dawn because the room was lit with a weak soft light rather than a candle. Clipper could just make out his captors slumped over the table. Olaf seemed to be snoring. Albee look more like a bear in hibernation. His nose was down in his arms and he seemed just a great pile of fur tumbling off the tabletop. Clipper had thought to sneak by them and escape when he first woke but when he tried to sit up he found his arms were tied firmly to some kind of wire. The wire in turn was hooked to a ring in the floor on one side of the room and a ring near the ceiling on the other side. He could slide his arms along the wire, but really the only point was to lay down on the floor at one end or stand with his hands high in the air at the other. Interestingly the piss pot was near the stand end. Clipper didn't bother to use it. He just aimed his stream at Olaf's upturned boots and felt good that a lot of the Cutpurse's celebratory ale found such a happy landing spot. Clipper's fingers could undo any knot or open any lock, but they had to be able to touch it. The way he was tied his fingers were a full hand span, albeit his small hand span, away. He was pretty disgusted that these two drunken oafs had taken this one task to be quite competent in. After all, what would the world come to if the general population suddenly started actually being good at what they did? Further rumination on the nature of good and evil was precluded when the door flung open with a huge clashing bang. Three men came charging into the room, two of them obvious thugs and one more of the order giver type. The thugs dumped the groggily awakening oafs out of their chairs and onto the floor. In their enthusiasm they also sent the collection of tankards flying and now the oafs wore earthenware dust and shards along with all the other vile things that probably lived in their clothing. "I knew it would be you two! When the tavern owner sent word that my account had reached 10 golds and they would appreciate immediate payment I just knew it had to be you idiots. Do you know how much ale a single gold can buy? Now gather up the tankards and let's give them back and at least halve the wretched bill. Where the devil are the tankards?" the one who Clipper instinctively knew was called Boss shouted. "No! It can't be! They weren't all on the table?" The Boss continued in a pained unhappy wail. Albee managed to peek through his tangled mop and slur, "No Sir Mr. Boss Sir. Somes of them were under the table too!" "Arrrr!" The Boss aimed a respectable kick right at Olaf's mid section. "Get this rat's den cleaned up so I can at least get my deposit back! You have two candles spans, I'll be back after my lunch to deal with you two." He turned and stalked out to be followed by the thugs but not before one of them knocked back the contents of the almost full tankard he had plucked from the table before upending it. Of course as soon as he drained it he threw it down adding another small crash to the cacophony and making yet another deposit nonredeemable. Clipper's faith in stupid thugs was restored. Albee managed to brush himself off and more or less stagger to a standing position in the room. Looking all around he obviously didn't see what he was looking for. Clipper couldn't make it out either, but watched in awe as Albee stumbled to the piss bucket, reached down and picked it up and stumbled back across to dump the stinking contents onto Olaf's head. The smell was acrid, the taste had to be putrid, but the effect, as Clipper watched it, was as desired and Olaf came splutteringly cursing awake as if crystal clear cold water had been dashed in his face. "Da' devil ya' doing Albee?" Olaf scratched his armpit and then his crotch. "Boss came by, said ta' wake you. Ya' need to clean the place and sumpthin' `bout ya' owes him money. I's s'posed to go to the docks, he needs me there right bad," Albee said with a perfectly straight face as he walked out stepping over piles of broken crockery. Well it would have been a straight face once Clipper thought, like maybe when Albee was three birthmoons old. "Shit fire, place is a mess. Got's to get a broom and shovel I's guessin'. Don't youse be goin' noeswhere Candyboy." Clipper watched Olaf put his feet in his boots not even noticing the boy piss that oozed up and out as it was displaced. As Olaf walked out the broken door and clompingly squished down the stairs Clipper would have given odds that neither oaf would be coming back. Of course that left him still with the problem of the tied hands and the wire. Nothing to do but pretend he was in the circus and twirl and bounce and spring up and down as much as he could. Maybe the thing would break and he could be the rare survivor who worked the wire without a net. Two candle spans and immensely tired arms and legs and a spinning seasick head later Clipper had to admit it wasn't going to break. He tried to hide beneath the crockery as he heard the thugs and the Boss climbing the stairs. There was a lot of crockery, but two arms pinned to a rising wire were admittedly a little difficult to hide. He should never never have kept that ribbon.