Tiena sighed a pointless sigh. An hour might have passed, possibly more; her watch had long since stopped. The battle for sleep seemed a hopeless one at times. There were too many noises in the city—if it wasn’t the wind keeping her up, it was the mice her father made her keep, and on the rare occasions that it was quiet, the silence was so noticeable that it made her restless. Her room was too big; the city of Diyun made too many noises.
She turned over. The window rattled again; there was always a wind blowing through Diyun, sometimes strong enough to blow pebbles and other bits of debris through the city, and everyone was told to stay inside. Her teacher called it Ka’dgast, the Forever Wind. (Or Northern Current?) (But her family called it the northern current?)
The window shook again. Was this a storm?
Groaning, she peered toward the window, where a streetlamp was just tall enough to illuminate the shadow on her ceiling. A silhouette was hunched against the frame, right in the corner away from the light. Not moving, but for a finger.
Tap, tap.
Tiena jumped out of bed; she would have screamed but she had a sneaking suspicion this was a dream. On the rare occasions that she slept peacefully, her dreams were often vivid, with sensations so real you thought they were. Although for her to be in her room was rare.
Thunder came from the great drums in the sky, an ominous sign in a dream; things could turn badly if you weren’t careful.
She went to her potions drawer to see what she could use to protect herself and instinctively picked out a stinkbomb, thinking of the months she’d been locked up in this room with its dolls and trinkets, in a city she hated with Dwarves that smelled… it was just the kind of thing her mind would come up with. She looked back toward the figure in her window.
Did she dare?
She usually did.
Tiena crept toward the latch. A sharp wind blew in behind her guest, and she pulled the window back onto the latch, still gripping the stinkbomb tight.
“Move!” It squeaked, almost shoving the phial out of her hand, there was fear in its eyes.
“Oi, stop!” She hissed, a blast hit her nose far stronger than any stinkbomb she’d made in the past. “You’re sodding wet, and you stink. Stand still!” But it was far too late, Ms. Locke was going to kill her.
It was not a human that had found a way to crawl up to her window on the seventh, and highest floor. It was one of the Veremon, a rat, to be precise. They were like men, who walked and talked and said bad words, only they took the appearance of animals. Her new teacher was an owl; there were supposed to be other Veremon at the collegium, but she’d never dreamt of one before.
“Well? What in Lady Moras’ name are you doing at my window?”
“‘Ere to sell fish, ain’t I?” The rat scowled, folding arms sulkily.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yer a bright one,” he said, and none too kindly at that.
He was shaking. His fur was wet, but she thought against giving him a blanket. Getting close to a dark apparition was how they tricked you, as soon as you got comfortable.
“What kind of trouble?” She took some small steps away.
“Bad kind.” He did not care to elaborate, to Tiena’s annoyance; dark apparitions were usually difficult.
“You know… you aren’t very big. If you aren’t more polite, I could have my uncle throw you out the way you came in—”
Someone started shouting outside the window, both she and the rat froze; they were too high up to hear properly, though the threat drained away like a sugar high. And she dared not move closer to the window. After a time, the rat buckled at the knees. She thought to let him rest there for a while. The carpet was already ruined.
“What happened? Why are you so frightened?”
“Gangs,” he said, “load of ‘em ‘neaf the city. If you don’t join one, you have to work for ‘em or they hurt yah. Well, they wasn’t happy with us, started roundin’ everyone up. I only got out cause of this.” He took that jagged knife out of his waistcoat, holding it up proudly. In the moonlight under the window, it was stained red.
“You hurt someone. With that?”
“Had to. Din’t have a choice, did I?” He grinned.
“That’s gruesome.”
This rat was a villain if she ever saw one, and she’d let him into her room! Made her carpet filthy too. She was going to be in so much trouble tomorrow.
“Good, eh?” Brinduil said, mistaking her. “One of ‘em tried chasin’ me above, but I knows secret ways, dun I? Reckon it's safest goin’ between the two. Above an’ below… This carpet is proppa comfty, I never felt something so… so… soft!” He hackled, “I made it! I’m alive!”
“Shh!” Tiena grimaced.
The tell-tale shuffle of her uncle's slippers stopped just short of the door, his heavy breathing right on the other side; it was too late to pretend to sleep, she glanced over to Brinduil already lying next to the side of the bed, leaving the stain behind him.
“Bed, Tiena.” Her uncle gave the door a thump, and his expensive slippers shuffled away.
After a few moments, the rat poked his head out from under her bed. “What sorta name is Teena?”
“Oh, now you care about names,” she muttered. Not sure whether to laugh or cry; if there was one thing she hated more than repeating herself, it was having to justify her name. Most were fine with Tiena. It was their surname: Fadieri/De Tolyver, that was a grand topic of conversation among her teachers and the Dwarves at the collegium; she was teased about it constantly.
“What’s he doin’ up so late anyway. I thought you Day-timers were supposed to be snorin’ roundabout now.”
“We are,” Tiena said glumly, wishing her family could be like everyone else, “But we work a little differently. I don’t know if they ever sleep, actually… You do have a name, don’t you?” Tiena pressed.
“Course,” Brindul muttered, ears and eyes still pointed toward the door.
“Well, what is it? Otherwise, you’re gonna have to leave. Can’t have you ‘ere if I don’t know yer name.” She made a face at him.
The rat's ears went down. He picked at something in his paw, “Me names Brinduil. But I don’ see why it matters. No one cares what me name is beneath ground.”
“Well, I care very much. A person’s real name is their trust; names are powerful, my mum used to say.”
“Yer well yer mum ne’er went ‘neath the ground. Names don’t matter down there ‘less yer strong enough to make people give en ear.”
Now that she was used to the smell, Tiena felt sorry for the rat, who looked cold and disheartened; she guessed he looked no older than seven or eight, but she had no idea how big these rats got. Her teacher Mr. Pierce was head and shoulders taller than her father, so he could have been a child but for the way he spoke.
She thought it would be rude to ask, and she didn’t want to upset the apparition, rule number two of dreams. She had more important questions besides.
“How did you get up here anyway? Our apartment is seven stairs up.”
“Wha… you think I climbed?” Brindul scoffed. “Told ya, I knows secret ways.”
“...You’re the one I hear scratching about on the roof, aren’t you?” She’d heard him on her very first night, almost a year ago now. “What are you doing up there?”
“Lookin’ fer food.” Brinduil scowled, he wandered over to the cage and inspected the mice her father got her for. Tiena wondered if he was about to eat one, but she suspected that would be yet another rude question.
“An’ thas my rooftop yer talking about. I ain’t never seen you up there. You uppers ain’t supposed to be on the rooves ernway.”
She couldn’t much argue that, but she tried anyway.
“If it’s your rooftop why ain’t you in it hiding now? You didn’t have to muddy my carpet.”
Brinduil folded his arms. “Cos they check the rooftops yer numpty. Gangs put Watcha’s out at night.”
“Oh.” The fun fell from Tiena like a rock.
“Don’ worry, they won’t hurt yah if they get in.”
“Get in? You mean one of them could…” Her heart was beating now, such a dream had never happened before, but as long as she didn’t make this apparition angry, she should be fine. If not… she be trapped in a very long nightmare.
At that point, Brinduil stretched out across the carpet.
“Don’ needa be afraid though Teena,” he yawned, “hurtin’ one of you lot is a sin. If the guards find out they send a whole lotta men down in shiny armour an’ start killin’ them who had nothing to do with anyfin. Law is, we leave yous alone, and yous leave us alone, an’ that seems to work just fine.”
Tiena followed the apparition's mark and laid down, while her eyes were dazed against the ceiling, her ears swept the room for any sound of it—being scared by one was another way to lose control of the dream.
“They’ll drag me out an’ skin me alive if they do get in, though.” It said quietly.