Beyond the Wall

Chapter 7: Meanwhile

Baltasar blew out the candle by the door and stepped out onto the shadowed cobble road outside. The midnight moon lit everything up just faintly with silver light only broken by the occasional yellow candle light glowing out a window. Silence blanketed Maestro thickly.

The servant couldn't help shivering slightly. He'd never been very courageous or brave, and the silence doubled by what he was going to do tonight was not helping.

It'd been a few days since the Renewal had set off on its venture, so Baltasar had been alone for a short time. During that time he'd really done nothing noteworthy - just keeping Lord Presagiar's house in Maestro clean and tidy. Tonight would be the first night he'd do anything out of the ordinary.

He was going to a meeting.

Baltasar wracked his memory for the directions to the meeting. Down a couple side streets, through an alley or two... The streets all blurred together as he followed the directions, and before he knew it, he was there.

He found himself at a house. A normal house. It looked like every other house in its lane. He counted again to make sure it was the right one. It just looked so normal... but looks could be deceiving.

Approaching softly, Baltasar looked both ways as he walked up the few steps to the door. All clear. All silent. Knocking softly, he moved his cloak tighter around him. The chill seemed to move in.

A few sleepy footsteps wandered to the door. A slit opened up, and tired eyes blinked and foggily stared at Baltasar. "What do you want?" a voice yawned.

For a second he paused. Was he even at the right house? Had he just woken up a random citizen? Then he blurted out, "I want more wealth."

The eyes shook back and forth and became just a tad bit more attentive. "Doesn't everyone?"

Baltasar paused again. What came next? Oh yeah. "Not everyone, not everyone."

The tiredness seemed to fall away from the eyes like a mask. The man opened up the door silently and motioned the servant in. After Baltasar was in the house, the man leaned out the door, looked both ways, and closed the door.

The house was quaint, old-fashioned, shabby, and small. You could tell that the person living it in was not wealthy but still working with what he was given. By Maestro standards, he was normal.

The modest entry room only had one thing in it: a candle sitting on a small wooden table. The flickering yellow light faintly lit up the room.

"Down here," the man murmured, walking across the room and opening up a basement hatch. Baltasar could see a ladder leading down to a dirt floor. Cautiously he climbed down.

At the bottom of the ladder there was a big dirt basement, lit up by several torches and filled with the common people of Maestro. There were moving slowly around, talking quietly with another in a murmur that sounded like a seamless rumble. Only a few people turned to look at the new arrival, but the majority just kept on talking.

Baltasar decided to separate himself from the crowd. He was a servant of a Lord, and didn't really fit in with the common folk. Now that he realized it, his cloak was in noticeably better condition than everyone else in the room. Hopefully that wouldn't single him out.

"Please, everyone quiet down and take a seat," a deep voice cried out. Immediately the rumble faded away and people started sitting down on the cold dirt floor. Baltasar was disgusted at the thought of dirtying his rear end on the ground, but did it anyway to avoid standing out.