Sinister Minds

Chapter 3. Sacks, Eyes and Bellies

It turned out the sky wasn't all blue. At least in some part of the port city of Kimrel. There was a thicket of black smoke that hovered permanently above an area to the north. Lots of chimneys over there. 

Salah racked his brain for some way to get to Valdrell which he'd come to realize was just Valdova. They changed the name. A century was enough for that. What else has changed? He mused to himself. 

Along his musings on how to travel, he had stumbled upon smuggling, country crossing and stealing ideas. Smuggling sounded more sane to him. But how? 

There had to be a transport service in the city where he could hide in a cart or somehow get on that metal carriage. Salah had thought of going back to Grace but discarded the idea after recalling more recent events. I still need my head to be on my shoulders. 

He made a turn on the streets and sunlight stabbed the corner of his eye. Hand raised over his eye, he noticed the sun was well past its peak. Salah quickened his steps, sunset was closing on him like some predator in the safari. I'm not spending another night outside like some bloody drunk! 

Salah set his sights upon a huge sign. 'Train Station'. He peered forward and saw people boarding the metal carriage. A group of men stacked sacks into it at the far end.

A clergyman yelled, "bound for Valdrell and Roysdale. Thirty minutes." 

Leaning against a pillar in the station, Salah observed for any possible smuggling opportunities when an itching feeling caused him to look over his shoulder to see a man wearing a suspicious looking black outfit, standing to his far right, obviously—at least to Salah— trying to be inconspicuous. He had something in his hands. 

Their eyes met and for a second there his eyes narrowed in recognition, which Salah felt was impossible, as anyone who knew him should be either dead or a Sinister. This strange fellow was not a Sinister. Salah could tell, his halo was low like normal men's. 

He tore his eyes away, changing his lounging position on the wall and peeked a glimpse of the fellow just to see him carefully folding away what he held. A paper? Or a drawing of me?! What are the odds? 

Salah made his decision to board that carriage. Normally, he wouldn't shy away from a fight but he was in a world with no allies and other things were far more pressing. Perhaps he should apprehend the man. Find out what he knew. 

His legs already carried him towards the carriage. It had so many wheels. He must have been staring because a man yelled at him. 

"Quit yar ogling boy! Those sacks won't load themselves." He frowned at the sackbellied frog of a man yelling words and spittles on his face. He wore an outfit just like his with a dirty round hat. 

"Don't glare farm boy," the frog warned, "or I'll get someone else." Oh! He must have thought I work for him. The dirt on my clothing probably helped. 

Salah feigned innocence and ducked towards the sacks other men were loading towards the train. Even as he carried the sacks, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of employer doesn't know his employees. Probably a drunk one. Which was just as well. This drunk fool won't notice me hiding in his goods. 

The loading ended and homeboy was exasperated to find out he was the only one winded, despite not starting from the beginning. 

Virtue, who works their employees like beasts of burden? He complained bitterly in his head. This can't be legal.

As his breath came in huffs, frog boss croaked for them to get in the train to Salah's amusement until he saw the cramped space they were to share. All ten of them. Frog boss didn't get in with them. Must have saved a nice spot for himself.