The Demon Boy

Day Twenty-Three - Morning and Midday

     Casper asks Balor permission to leave for town early this morning. That's the thing about stakeouts; the more time you can waste on them, the better the chances of success. He promises he'll do his share of chores when he gets back. Balor is admittedly puzzled over why the time that the weeding and watering gets done would matter, much less why Casper feels the need to rush off to town. The old man doesn't ask though. Something about plausible deniability. He does, however warn Casper to expect Myr. Apparently the drunk intends on paying Smith a visit sometime today, likely this afternoon if his sleeping habits are any indication. God knows how and why Myr, of all people, has gotten himself wrapped up in Smith's business, but at least now Casper knows to keep an eye out. Not that he plans on being seen anyways.

     He doesn't use his usual churchyard shortcut to sneak into town. He's right in time for people to start flooding through the doors for sermon, too many witnesses to risk exposure by jumping the tree line practically in front of them. He'd normally wait until the crowd disappears inside, but time is of the essence. The sooner Casper can find a good watchpost and situate himself there, the better.

     He backtracks, opting instead to cut through the orchard on the other side of the path and finding his way from there. It works. He sticks to the backroads, the narrow crannies between buildings, places where there's no or few windows. He duck beneath sills, pokes his nose out from obscure alleyways to case the main road and check angles. There's a good spot between two buildings, just about opposite the pub. There's a rain barrel there that he'll take cover behind. He only has to lean out a bit to see the bank's front and, if he has the bad luck to get spotted and asked what he's doing, he'll say he's waiting for the pub to open so he can grab some lunch there. The locals can corroborate for him. He goes there all the time after all.

     He settles in. Makes himself comfortable, as much as he can on bare, hard earth. And now...

     He waits.

     It's not the first time he's cased a place out, not by far, but it is the first time he's done so all on his lonesome. Usually he'd be doing this with one or two others, enough eyes to keep watch on all the exits, plus a runner, should the need to pass on messages arise. The bigger the place, the more exits, the more people needed, the more important the runner becomes. He'd started out as a runner himself. He was just a tyke then, smaller than he is now, just getting into the game. Still figuring things out: where to eat, how to beg, how to survive the winter. It was tough. Getting picked up into the gang like he did was his lucky break. He wouldn't've survived a second winter otherwise.

     It was a good arrangement really, one that benefitted both parties. The gang got their runner, one no one would take notice of since little runts like him scurry around the place all the time, regardless of which quarter you visit. They even trained him up for the task too, they'd practice 'til he could recite a message word for word, even backwards if they asked him to. Always did have a good memory. He wouldn't tell no one either, no one he wasn't supposed to, that is. That's how he earned his keep. In return, he got food and board and good company, all in one. They treated him good, they did. Casper got his fair share of the spoils. They taught him new tricks too, useful things like picking pockets and jimmying locks. How to steal. How to lie. How to live. How to survive. The important things. He was good at it too, still is as a matter of fact, and it served him far better than any lessons about arithmetic and literacy people tried to beat into his skull.

     He moved up through the ranks, paid back what he was given with hard work of his own. Now, here he is, doing a job all on his lonesome. Not how he saw things would go, back when he was a tyke, but that's life for you.