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Marius' Story chapter 4

Note: There is a short addendum to the previous chapter that you should read before continuing. It got posted around the time I posted chapter 3 of Riah's story, so if you read it after that you're fine.

A/n: Hello everybody!! Here's Marius chapter 4!! Hope y'all like it!!

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Harlot wasn't in the kitchen or the common room, but a quick question to Bighana provided the information that she was probably still in the basement, packing up raw materials to bring upstairs for the next day's meals. The entrance to the basement was off the common room, he remembered: he'd seen it when he'd first gotten there that morning. The common room was moderately full, despite it being between meals, and Marius found himself wishing he'd kept his shirt on, or just put it back on wet. But people here seemed to go shirtless pretty frequently, even the women, and at any rate nobody stared as he headed for the narrow staircase that led down to the basement.

At the bottom, he was relieved to find Harlot where Bighana had told him, hauling a heavy burlap sack to the base of the stairs.

The room wasn't small, but it was packed, largely with crates and sacks the like of the one Harlot was moving. It smelled of beer and dust, but was surprisingly well-lit. Looking for the source of the light, he found a bright light that looked like it floated freely in the air, though it was probably attached by a wire he couldn't see. A wire that small, strong enough to hang things from, and it provides power? That was more advanced tech than he'd expect to see in his world. Weird. There was also a small creature crawling around on the ceiling – a bat, he realized a moment later. And it's awake in the day? That was a seriously bad sign, where he came from, but Harlot didn't seem concerned. He'd never heard of bats actually crawling around on the ceiling before, either. It was definitely a bat, though – wings and all.

“What do you need, Lad?” Harlot asked him, leaning over to pick up another heavy-looking burlap sack.

He stopped staring at the 'bat' to look at her, steeling himself. “Cash,” he said bluntly to her back, before realizing what it sounded like. “I mean, a job that pays cash. And paperwork, unless somebody'd hire me without it.”

“You leavin' us already?” Harlot asked him, reaching the steps with her burden and putting it down.

“No,” Marius said quickly. “Or I hope not. But I need real money or I'm not going to be able to feed Mo.”

Harlot straightened up to face him and talk. “Mo's the child?” she said.

Oh yeah. He'd told Bighana her name, but not Harlot. “Yeah,” he said. “Moriyana, really.”

Harlot raised an eyebrow. “And you took her lovely, feminine name, and shortened it to Mo.”

“Isn't your name Rosalind?” he asked her. Realizing what he'd said, and to whom, he blushed and almost apologized, but Harlot grinned.

“Touché,” she told him. “Mo it is. And you need a job that'll pay for her necessaries.”

“Yeah,” Marius said.

“Alright,” Harlot said, speaking slowly as she thought it over. “I don't know of anybody who'd hire illegally, but nobody'd probably report you for asking. Papers is harder – usually they'd ask you for your birth papers or at least some sort of immigration documents, and you don't have those.”

“They'd deport me?” Marius asked hopefully. That would be a way home.

“Nah,” Harlot said, shaking her head. “Not that. They'd make you pay a fine, just like if you'd lost them. Thing is, you ain't got the money and won't for quite a while, way you're going. I'm not sure what they'd do, to be honest. They might even put you in the debtor's prison, make you work off the fine.”

Woah, Marius thought. He'd better not get caught, then. “So you're suggesting I just go for the job, then?” Marius asked.

“Yeah,” Harlot said, still thinking it over. “I guess I am. Though you won't get paid as much without papers. Anyone who's hiring you is taking the risk of a substantial fine, and most'll take that out of your wages. Though you won't be paying taxes on it, of course, so that'll help some.”

“Fantastic,” Marius told her. “Any suggestions for where I should try, though?”

Harlot winced. “The nightclubs,” she said hesitantly. “It's how I got my start. And you're a pretty kid. You'd have to tell them you were eighteen, though.” She grinned cynically. “You don't look eighteen, but they'd believe you anyway. You just need to give them plausible deniability.”

“Plausible-” Marius asked, not understanding.

“They need to be able to claim that they didn't know you were underage,” Harlot said. “They don't actually need to make you prove you aren't. Quite the useful little loophole, for those of us in the business. I got started when I was younger than you.” She frowned. “Not the best period of my life, but I survived it. You can, too.”

Marius swallowed. “Anywhere else?” he asked her.

Harlot frowned further. “Don't dismiss it offhand, lad,” she said. “You sound like you're in pretty desperate straits, and if dancing's your problem, the nightclubs need waiters, too. Otherwise...” she trailed off. “Maybe other bars or restaurants? Waiting tables for dinner wouldn't interfere with your work here, probably.”

Waiter, Marius thought, relieved. That, I can do.

But Harlot was still frowning. “The babe's going to be a real problem, though, anywhere you go. I only hired you 'cause Bighana already had Ran, and wouldn't mind watching an extra now and again.”

Great, he thought. So nobody'll hire me. Maybe a different goal would be better. “What would it take to get me deported?” he asked Harlot.

Harlot furrowed her eyebrows, but seemed to think about it. “A lot,” she said finally. “Mostly, they'd just jail you, 'specially if they couldn't prove where you came in from. Gates are expensive, and they'd need to set them up where you wouldn't be noticed coming in the other side. Far as I know, the only permanent two-ways are in the gate hubs, and a ticket'd cost you your first-born.”

Marius took a breath. I am starting to hate being poor, he thought. “Gate hubs?” he asked her. Hadn't the satyr he'd met mentioned the same thing? He couldn't remember.

“Lots and lots of gates to and from various parts of the world and even some to yours,” she told him, “all put together in a building with far too many people and far too much bureaucracy.”

An airport, Marius realized. Or close. But he was getting distracted. Getting a job was not going to work, and neither was getting deported. I have got to find this kid's family. “Who do I talk to about having found a missing child?” he asked.

“Found?” Harlot repeated, sounding genuinely surprised. I guess Bighana didn't talk to her. “This anything to do with why you didn't know if you had a carrier or not? An' why she's fae and you at least look human?”

“I am human,” Marius said. “And yes.”

“Tell,” Harlot ordered him.

He took a deep breath, and told her.

“And so you're hoping that if you report her found, somebody else'll have reported her missing?” Harlot clarified at the end.

“Yeah,” Marius said. “I mean, she's got to have family somewhere, right?”

“Likely,” Harlot said, once again sounding thoughtful.

“She told me to go to the 'Elite',” Marius told her. “Does that mean anything?”

“Only that the babe's family has some money,” Harlot said absently. “The Elite refers to the uptown guard, especially those that work at the palace.” She stopped for a bit, considering, before continuing. “It does lead to another problem, too, though. Has it occurred to you that if somebody's looking for her, they're likely looking for the mother, too?”

Marius blanched. He hadn't thought of that, at all, actually. Her body. I walked away from a body carrying her baby and her possessions. He fought to keep his voice steady against his sudden terror. He could be charged with murder, and in a country he knew nothing about. Jesus. “I'll just tell them the truth,” he said. “Lliannan gave her to me.”

“And just keeled over and died,” Harlot stated.

“Yeah,” Marius said decisively. “I don't know why.”

“And so you took her baby and everything of value from her body,” Harlot said, following the logic. “And took off through the nearest gate.”

Marius swallowed. “She gave them to me,” he said.

“Just before dying,” Harlot said.

“Yeah,” Marius said weakly.

Harlot just gave him a look.

“Okay,” Marius said, regrouping. “So I don't tell them the mother's dead,” he said. “I just found the baby...on my doorstep, or something.”

“Oh,” Harlot said sarcastically. “So you just kidnapped the baby, and you have no idea what happened to the very wealthy mother.”

“I didn't kill her,” he protested. “And she shoved Mo at me. Why would I kidnap her? I don't even know who to ask ransom from!”

“Easy, lad,” Harlot said, holding up a hand. “I believe you. If you had killed the mother, your story'd be better, and you wouldn't be so frantic tryin' to take care of the kid. But you've got to realize, the city guard are good men. They do their best. But they are not miracle workers, and they have all the evidence in the world that you killed that woman, 'less they get a witch on retainer to tell them different. Which would be expensive.”

Marius rolled his head back on his neck, staring blankly at the cracked ceiling. The bat thing had gone off somewhere. “Someone up there hates me,” he said.

“Nah, the Maker's not got it in for you just yet,” Harlot said. “But he does have his opinions. Perhaps he wishes for you to keep the child.”

“Oh, hell no,” Marius told her. “No, no. There is no way your God wants a sixteen-year-old human boy to take care of a five-month-old fae baby. And if he did, he'd damned well better provide some damned money. I am finding Mo's family.”

Harlot raised both hands, as if to fend him off, or show herself unarmed. “Relax, lad. It was just a theory, and one that some, at least, would find comforting. But how are you planning on finding her family, barring turning yourself in to the guard?”

Marius closed his eyes, nearly in tears with frustration. “I don't know,” he told her. “Maybe they'll put up fliers? Missing child? Maybe I can explain what happened after I return her?”

Harlot shrugged. “Maybe. You better hope they don't report you, though. Whoever you find, they're going to want to know why Lliannan died.” She frowned. “If I were you, I'd plan for the long haul, kid. If they're looking, and you're watching for fliers or the like, they'll find you. But if they ain't looking for you, I don't see that you're going to find them.”

The long haul. “How long?” he asked desperately.

Harlot just gave him a look.

He closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “Stupid question. You couldn't just tell me they'll find me sometime next week?”

When he opened his eyes, Harlot was frowning at him. “You said her mother gave her to you. How exactly did she word that?”

Was that important? “Umm...” Marius said, closing his eyes again to think. “She was looking specifically for me, somehow,” he remembered. “She handed me the baby. I objected, tried to hand her back. She said, 'she's yours, now.' I objected again. She gave me the diaper bag and a book. She said Mo had to be with me. That she'd die, otherwise. She seemed to believe it, but I didn't. I was still arguing when she died. Voilá me in an alley with a dead woman, carrying her daughter and her possessions.”

“She said that specifically, 'she's yours, now,'? She handed you the baby intentionally, and said you were to keep her?” Harlot clarified.

“Yeah,” Marius said. “Why is that important?”

“Because adoption law is not complicated, here,” Harlot said, shrugging. “She gave her to you, said the right words, the baby was in your possession when the mother died. By every law we have, she's your daughter. If they believe your story, anyway. If you were a citizen, you'd be able to collect welfare.”

“Papers,” Marius said again.

“Papers,” Harlot agreed.

It wasn't until after that that the true import of Harlot's words hit him. “I've adopted her, by your laws?”

“Yeah, if you wanted to claim it,” Harlot said. “And unless you in turn drop her in an orphanage or the like, that holds regardless. You have her, the mother wanted you to have her, she's yours. No matter your reluctance at the time. It's a good thing, lad,” she said, seeing his expression. “It means she can't be taken from you, even if you do find her family, unless you want to give her away. Once you get your citizenship, it'll be a really good thing. We have some serious protections for orphans and single parents, societal stigma aside.”

“Stigma?” Marius asked.

“Child out of wedlock?” Harlot returned. “Does your society not have a stigma?”

Marius felt himself color, more aware than ever that his chest was bare. “I did not-!”

“I realize that, lad, but you won't get a chance to explain, with most people, and that's the assumption they'll make, after awhile. If you can, your best bet is to claim you're a widower. That's preferable, and not less true, than the story that you were messing around and Lliannan abandoned her child, is it not?”

“I can tell you which sounds more likely,” Marius said. “I'm sixteen.”

“Not that unusual that you'd be married, here,” Harlot said. “And nobody's going to believe that you willingly adopted a child not your own.”

“I didn't,” Marius insisted.

“You're going to drop her off at the Grover's Street Children's Home?” Harlot asked, meeting his eyes challengingly. “I can tell you where it is. Problem solved, and the child's chances to find her family are about as good, at least if she survives.”

“If-?” Marius asked reluctantly. Bighana had already told him that Lliannan had probably been correct, but he'd still hoped Harlot might tell him differently.

“If,” Harlot said, eyes still challenging. “The likelihood the child'd die is pretty good, if that's what Lliannan said. Stranger things have happened, and I don't know why she'd've been looking for you specifically, otherwise. You willing to take that risk?”

“You're asking me if I'll just drop her off and let her die?” Marius asked her incredulously.

“You'd never have to know if she did,” Harlot pointed out. “Not if you didn't ask. You could assume she survived. And there's at least some chance she'd live.”

Marius swallowed. That sounded horrible. “Yeah, clearly the solution is to expose her on a hill somewhere,” he said bitterly. “Maybe she'll learn to survive on her own.”

Harlot watched him seriously. “That's what most would do, lad. It's not your fault you got into this situation.”

“I can't do that,” Marius told her, shaking his head frantically. “I can't. I couldn't stand not knowing. She's a little person.”

Harlot raised her eyebrows. “Well, then, she's your little person,” she said matter-of-factly. “Congratulations, you're a Dada.”

Marius shut his eyes once again, trying to process. In the end, all he came up with was something stupid. “I hate this country,” he said finally.

Harlot snorted. “Widows and orphans have lived on charity or the lack of it for time immemorial,” she said. “No government is going to be able to fix that entirely. Ours does try, but they have to know you exist, first.”

Marius snorted, hearing it come out as cynically as Harlot's. “And the meek shall inherit the earth,” he told her.

“These you will always have with you,” Harlot countered.

“Don't know that bit,” Marius told her. They have the same bible, here?

Harlot just shrugged, apparently unconcerned.

“What sort of connection do our worlds have?” he asked her, curious.

“A complicated one,” Harlot said slowly. “Mostly we just exist in parallel, but there've been some major crossovers.”

“Crossovers?” Marius asked.

“Migrations,” she clarified. “Or just simple moves. We get refugees and other immigrants from your world once in awhile, and occasionally people here will visit your world just as tourists. But we've both been around for a long time, with this going on, so you'll find a lot of legends in your world are simple truth, here, and most of us know at least some things about your world. Some of the witches here were originally from your world. Our government brings them over, when it can. Witches are valuable.”

“They bring them over on purpose?”

“Yup. They send an official over to wherever the witch is, and bring them over. Not against the witch's will, of course, but they're generally pretty willing. Like I said before, witching's damned profitable, here. In your world, it's pretty typical for a witch to end up some sort of outcast. Witches tend to be a little-” she wiggled a hand. “-odd. Even in our world. At any rate, that, and the schools, mean that we have more witches in this country than anywhere else in the world.”

“Schools?” Marius asked.

“We have the wealthiest and most famous witching schools anywhere,” Harlot said. “Ritten Academy, here in the north, Darlinger way off in the East, and Karana down South.”

“Ah,” Marius said. But he had other things he needed to be thinking about. A job, for instance. It was roughly four o'clock in the afternoon. He could get paid that evening, if he figured something out quickly enough.

“I have to get back upstairs, now, Lad,” Harlot said. “Take a load on your way up?”

“Sure,” Marius said automatically. Fortunately, whatever was in the bulky bag she handed him wasn't dense, and he had no trouble taking it up the stairs and into the noisy common room. Harlot was just behind him, and he got out of her way at the top so she'd show him where he could put the bag down. When she got to the top, though, she stopped and surveyed the room, a thoughtful expression on her face, and spoke.

“Put the bag down here, Lad, I think I may be able to help you out after all,” she said before turning back to the room. “Hey, Kahrn!” she called. Halfway across the room, a tall, proud-looking man looked up, saw Harlot, and got up to approach them. Marius put the bag down as Harlot had told him to, and watched the man approach.

“Mistress Harlot,” Kahrn greeted formally. He barely gave Marius a second glance.

“I'm calling in that favor,” she said directly, indicating Marius. “Boy here needs a job, preferably not on stage. No working papers, and he's got an infant needs to come with him. You can take him?”

Preferably not on stage? Shit, she was talking about a nightclub. I need a job, he reminded himself. Any job. His little person. Jesus.

Finally the man deigned to look at him, looking him over from head to toe, and lingering on his face and still-hairless chest, a speculative look on his haughty face. “Will he work?” he asked doubtfully.

“Bighana says yes,” Harlot said.

She checked up on my work, Marius realized. Apparently he'd passed.

“Far be it from me to doubt Missus Bighana,” Kahrn said, still looking at Marius like he was a dubious side of meat. And looking at his chest as much as his face. Marius swallowed, but finally the man looked back to Harlot. “No papers, and an infant?” he asked, tone politely incredulous.

“All the more reason for him to do well by you,” Harlot countered.

“No need to convince me, Harlot,” he said, like something was sour. “He can come with me tonight at eight. Do not be late, boy.”

“Thank you,” Harlot said.

“Paid in full,” Kahrn countered.

Harlot just smiled. “Understood.”

He returned to his chair, and Marius stared at Harlot. Just like that, he had a job. Hot damn. “Thank you,” he told her. “I owe you one.” Proportional to whatever she'd been able to hold over Kahrn, come to think of it. That sounded like quite the favor.

“How old are you?” the woman asked him, ignoring that.

“Six-” he cut off when she frowned, abruptly understanding. He swallowed. “Eighteen,” he told her. “I'm eighteen.”

“Good boy,” Harlot said. “Don't forget it. I ain't getting you another job.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, watching as she picked up the sack she'd been carrying and brought it to the kitchen.

Shit. Nightclub?

His little person, he reminded himself again. He was responsible for her, now, as long as she needed him. If that meant missing his meals to get her hers, then he had to do it. A job waiting tables at a nightclub was the least of it. His gut tightened. Oh, God. I can't do this. Yes, yes, he could. Because if he didn't care for her, nobody would. He was not going to just let her die.

So the baby lives. That's what I'm doing. That is all. In a way, that was reassuring. It simplified everything. Mission: Impossible 10^8: Keep the baby alive. That might involve getting home soon, or it might not. That could not be the priority.

But he did not have to go for the 'long haul' at this job, he realized. He could keep it just long enough to find another one, if it was miserable. And until eight – he was done. He didn't have to do anything at all. Well, other than take care of Mo. And eat dinner, if Bighana would give it to him before the scheduled time. So pretty much he had only the time while Moriyana was sleeping.

Now that he had the job he needed, though, he found himself anxious about leaving her alone. He went upstairs and let himself quietly into the room, once again holding his breath in fear of waking her. But she was still sound asleep.

Once again the sight of his bed called him, and this time he could afford to listen. Not bothering to even get under the blankets, he fell onto the bed. The quilt felt a little strange against his bare skin, but it felt like the mattress was leaching the strength from his limbs, so that he'd never get out again and never want to. His brain shut down almost as quickly, and he fell asleep.

He woke up in confusion, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. Something was making noise – a high-pitched, anxious, unhappy sound- oh. I was really hoping that was a dream.

But no, he really was in some strange world where he had to take a job at a strip club in order to feed someone else's baby. Someone else's baby who was currently screaming at the top of her lungs. Growling, he rolled to a sit, twisting to put his feet on the floor at the same time and almost hitting his head on the sloping ceiling as he moved from the sit into a swaying stand.

Too groggy to really think, he picked the baby up from her basket and grabbed the diaper bag from beside it before heading down the stairs to the kitchen to feed her.

As it turned out, he'd only slept for an hour or so, and had plenty of time to change and feed Mo and get his own dinner before meeting Kahrn.

To his pleasure, he discovered that the dinner included meat, a thin slice of something he didn't recognize but that tasted like some sort of poultry. He ate it hungrily and got seconds on the sides, learning from Bighana that he was welcome to seconds on anything except meat. Good to know, he thought.

By the time the bell rang seven he and Mo were both fed and he was feeling slightly better about the world. He returned to his room by default, laying back on the bed with Mo still in his arms. She was quiet, for once, chewing contentedly on a lock of his hair and her own fist.

“Hi baby,” he told her tiredly. To his surprise, she lifted her head to look at him. Purple eyes, he noticed. Strange. And she was drooling all over her own face and his chest. He'd left the diaper bag next to the bed he was lying on, so with a little straining he could get to a washcloth.

“Here, grossness,” he told her, drying her face gently. He came upon the earrings in her upper ear again, and put a hand to his own. They were still there, of course – two hoops to Mo's stud and a hoop. He'd almost forgotten about them. It must have been some sort of magic to put them in, he realized belatedly. They really had no clasp, and Lliannan had given them to him with one hand.

But why had she even given them to him? Jewelry seemed like it should have been very low on the priority list, given the circumstances. “You'll need this, and these,” she'd said. She'd been frantic, and she'd claimed that he'd need a book and a set of earrings. It was like the gold, frankincense, and myrrh of the Nativity story – could she've given him some more formula and diapers, instead?

“Go to the Elite,” she'd said. Just like they wouldn't accuse him of murder. The woman was an idiot. Or had been. She'd left him with so few options that he was taking a job at a strip joint, and she'd given him earrings.

The thought of his job sent a new stab of anxiety through him. He'd never stepped foot in a nightclub, even in his world. What would be expected of him at this one? Sure he was supposed to wait tables, but... would he have a uniform? If so, what sort of costume would he be expected to wear? His imagination was not his friend at this point, and he fought off images of being asked to wear nothing but a bow tie and thong. Surely they wouldn't ask that of him. Surely. But he would have no other options, if they did. This man Kahrn could treat him as badly as he wanted to...and he already resented him.

A squeel interrupted his thoughts, and he willingly turned his attention back to the infant on his chest. She'd lifted herself off his chest on little arms and was staring into his face.

“What?” he asked her. “Bored already?”

She grinned widely and gurgled, and he couldn't help but smile back.

“Oh I see,” he told her, grinning. “I'm just the best thing since sliced bread, that's all. Glad you noticed.”

She squeeled again, and collapsed back onto his chest, reaching out for his face with one hand. He picked up his head to capture her hand in his mouth, shielding his teeth carefully with his lips. She pulled back, and he held on for a moment before letting go. She squealed again and reached for his mouth, and he did it again. This time when he let go she reached up to pat his cheek, and he grabbed her hand in one of his, almost covering her fist in a hand that suddenly felt monstrously large. She gripped his fingers and pulled them clumsily towards her mouth, and he freed himself gently, not wanting her drool on his fingers.

He sat up, hand behind her head and supporting her neck. He set her lying on his lap, and she grabbed one of her own feet with both hands and brought it to her mouth.

“I have got to find you something else to chew on,” he told her, before frowning. Yeah, because you have so much money to buy it with, genius.

But she was still happy, and released her foot to reach both chubby hands up to him, kicking him in the stomach with both feet and gurgling at the same time. Unsure, he lifter her under the arms and stood her on his lap. Her legs held for a couple of seconds before her knees buckled, and he stood her back up, and they buckled again. She seemed to like it, though, and so he stood her up again. This time she bounced up and down a couple of times before falling onto her bum. He let her, studying her big bright eyes as she stuffed her fingers in her mouth.

“All for you, baby,” he told her. It didn't seem quite so strange, looking at her trusting face. My little person, he remembered again. He'd keep her safe.

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A/n: That's it!! Hope you liked!! Riah's next chapter should be out soon, too.

Update

Hey everybody! I just wanted to let you know that I just started a WordPress version of this same blog. It has all the Marius and Riah story chapters on it, and is a lot prettier. WordPress is just wayyyyy better than Blogger. If I can get people to transfer over, I'll be switching, but in the meantime I'll maintain both blogs. Here's the link:

http://trainsofthoughtstories.wordpress.com/

Thanks!! RhiannanT