The Clockmaker's Shadow | ONC 2021 | LGBT

8. The Errand (8k word milestone)

(Author's Note: this chapter is dedicated to @EvelynHail and her wonderful timetravel story, Anywhen. Guaranteed to provide stiff competition for this year's ONC!)

Rik woke heavy-eyed the next morning, having tossed and turned for a few anxious hours before eventually convincing himself it could hardly be the same clockmaker. That would be too much of a coincidence. Afterall, clockmaking was a popular profession, there must be dozens of shops around town.

He got out of bed, feeling happy that he no longer had to use a chamber pot. He pulled on the robe that Martin had provided and went along the passage to the bathroom at the other end. Martin had shown him the facilities yesterday, proudly explaining how the system worked. "After you finish, you pull this handle and water flushes away the waste." He demonstrated.

"And if you want a wash, water comes out of these taps. You can sit in there and wash your whole body... if you want to." Martin pointed to a square bath, about half the size of the one Rik had enjoyed at home. Just big enough to sit in if you weren't too tall and your legs weren't too long.

"It's a new concept called a bath chamber, ours is the latest design," Martin had told him. "The house was in a shambles for weeks while it was installed, but well worth the extra work in my opinion! The Viscount has his own bath chamber at the other end of the house, but this one is for us. You and I are the only staff who live on the premises but the maids are allowed to use it when they come here to clean once a week."

"What a marvellous contrivance," enthused Rik, sincerely.

Martin pointed to where a couple of heavy towelling robes hung from a hook. "And these are for drying yourself and for wearing over your night clothes, if you need to get up in the middle of the night." He handed one of the robes to Rik, with rather a pointed look.

"Handy!" As Rik didn't normally wear any night clothes, he took it gratefully. Evidently Martin didn't want him roaming the passages in the nude.

After he had washed, in the new bath chamber, and dressed in his own room, Rik made his way downstairs.

He and Martin were just finishing their breakfast of eggs and bacon in the kitchen, when the Viscount appeared in the doorway, dressed more informally this morning in tan breeches and a plain white shirt.

Martin stood, Rik scrambling to his feet a second later. The Viscount gave an exasperated sigh. "Martin, you know perfectly well there's no need for that. Just because Rik is here, you don't have to change your habits. Relax."

He turned to Rik and smiled. "I hope you slept well?"

"Yes sir. Very well."

"And there's another thing. Please stop calling me 'sir'. My name is Benedict, you can call me Ned."

Martin cleared his throat loudly and frowned.

"It's all right, Martin," the Viscount assured him, a touch impatiently. "If Rik is going to be my personal assistant I can't have him calling me 'sir' all the time. At least, not in the house. When we are out in public, of course, that will be a different matter."

"Here are the directions to the shop. I've written them down for you," said the Viscount, handing Rik a piece of paper. "And also my note of authority, to collect the piece."

"Yes sir... I mean, er... Ned," Rik answered awkwardly.

The Viscount grinned. "Don't worry, you'll soon get used to it. And you can take one of the bicycles, Martin will show you where they are."

Rik waited until he was outside, following Martin to the shed where the bicycles were kept before looking at the directions. Tension he hadn't known he had, dropped from his shoulders. The address was different. It had to be a different shop.

Martin unlocked the shed door and pointed to the bikes stacked against one wall. They all looked pretty similar to the ones Rik had grown up with, except the seats were leather instead of plastic and there were no gears. It was years since Rik had ridden a bike but they said you never forgot, didn't they? He chose the nearest and wheeled it down the side of the house, leaving Martin to lock up. This was going to be fun.

Directions pinned to the handlebars, Rik rode off down the street, gaining confidence as he went.

After a while, some of the buildings began to look familiar. That tall one on the corner, he was certain he had seen something like it before... but was it in this version of the world or the last? He couldn't remember. Near Ari's shop or Ann's?

He checked his directions once more. Ari had lived and worked in Wallace Street. The address in his hand was for Amber Street. Totally different.

Feeling a little uneasy, Rik continued riding. This street was busier than the last and he needed to concentrate. The sight of a clockmaker's shop tucked under an overhanging building reassured him. This was probably the clockmaker's quarter, an area where they preferred to set up their establishments, like silversmiths or jewelry merchants often did.

Not far now. He turned left at the bottom of the road into Amber Street and his heart sank as he recognized where he was. Call it Wallace or Amber, it was the same street where Ari had had his shop and where Ann now had hers. Damn.

And the shop the Viscount had directed him to, was the same shop. Of course, it was. Resigned now, he leant his bike against the front of the shop and went inside.

A bell tinkled and Ann Schroeder looked up from the counter where she had been working.

She smiled. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope so," Rik answered, stepping forward. "My name is Rik Sandro, I'm here to collect a piece commissioned by Viscount Harlow. I have his note here," he added, taking the paper from his pocket.

"Oh, you'll want my brother then! Just hold on a moment and I'll fetch him down."

The young woman disappeared upstairs, returning only moments later with a tall figure in tow, carrying a small wooden box. The man following her had dark blond hair streaked with gold, beautiful brown eyes and kissable lips.

Rik felt the blood drain from his face.

"Ari?" he blurted.

"I'm Aron Schroeder," admitted the man, a puzzled expression on his face. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

~~~

(Author's Note:  Approx 8120 words not counting author's notes

And don't you love the picture at the top? It's a medieval plumbing diagram from a  monastery)