The Time-Teller: Borrowed Time

Borrowed Time

Loud music thumped from within the brick building he sat against. Each beat reverberating through the stone, causing an unnatural thump in his chest. Pol sat in the alley, unconcerned by the people who stumbled out of the doorway a few paces down. The alley was half-lit by soft glowing lanterns strung to the wall by taut rope and nails.

Each thump was done in rhythm opposite to the movement of the smallest arm of his time-teller, the one-of-a-kind device that he guarded with his life.

Approaching steps interrupted his thoughts, and he brushed his long hair out of his face, making sure to represent himself well in case of a potential client. The couple that had walked towards him now passed him, and he looked again at his time-teller.

The door nearest him opened and the thumping that had come from the wall echoed out into the alley, though it was now accompanied by a woodwind that Pol couldn't identify. He didn't know who was performing, or how well they were being received but he hadn't heard any dissent from the packed building and he knew it was packed because he had been out in the alley for hours.

"Either come in or go. We've had reports that you're just sitting out here. We don't need any enforcers coming looking after you if you're selling." The voice was gruff and gone before Pol looked for the source, the only thing that even denoted his passing was the slamming of the heavy metal door.

It took him a moment to stand, brushing out any wrinkles his coat might have gained while he sat. He was dressed for the nightlife, and he knew he looked like most of the people inside wished they did. Sharply dressed, and modestly handsome. Though tonight it did him no good, as no potential clients had approached him.

Pol debated the prospect of going inside, being swept under the current by the wave of music that was almost intoxicating to the soul, but he walked out of the alley and towards the main square of Tessia. He knew he disliked the effects of that specific music, performed with soulsynchors it would cause most people to go into an almost delirious state of whimsy. Something he didn't have the time for.

The square was mostly empty, save for a fairly energetic couple expressing their affections towards the end of one of the closed shops that lined it. Pol sat at a vacant bench, furthest from the couple and looked at his time-teller.

"Hello, I looked for you in the alley. Guess I just missed you." A deep accented voice said as Pol noticed the man walking towards him from the alley.

"I'm not sure I know you, stranger." Pol said

"Right sorry, what a time to be alive!" Ah, there it was, the code given to any who wanted to buy what Pol was selling.

"A time indeed, how much time do you think we have left in this wasted world?" Pol asked.

"Not long, maybe a half-cycle or so." the man responded. He sat next to Pol, his thin cotton shirt doing little to hide the hilt of his dueling blade, a true sign of the wealthy. He sat one leg over the other in a very nonchalant manner. The arrogance of those who have always been entitled.

"Half-cycle? The cost of living is high, isn't it far easier to just let the void take us?" Pol hated talking in code, but he learned two cycles ago it was safer to do so than the alternative. He lost five cycles worth back before his precautions became a firm rule rather than a passive option.

"I'd be willing to wait for my whole life for an opportunity like this." The man said, his bright brown eyes flickering around the dark square.

"Your wait is over." Pol moved deftly, he could feel his joints ache as he did, the cost of his business. He slid the crown out on his time-teller, rotated the ornate bezel, and let the time-teller begin its machinations. It was inlaid with small semi-precious jewels at intervals around the arms, and overlaid by white gold filigree. It was made to look plainer than most jewelry worn by the high nobility but it still stood in contrast with the clothing Pol most often wore. Sharp though his outfits might be, he wasn't the heir to a large fortune and his hard-earned funds weren't spent on frivolous threads. To those who wished to buy his time, his outfits meant very little.