Help Wanted
1577
1577
Harper stared up at the night sky listlessly, arms folded behind his head. The spurii lay atop a building for the night, a restaurant from the smell of it. The man’s nose twitched. His stomach tightened with hunger. Had he stayed away from larger crime, the former henchman probably would have been eating dinner back in Hiemis right now. Unfortunately, he was wanted for his part in the theft of a rather important document. That incident had ruined his job prospects. Not willing to face authorities for his part in the crime, Harper had fled the continent. If his enlil friend was smart, she would get out or disappear, too.
The wanted man let his head roll to the side until his temple rested on the roof. Ignis was rather good at disappearing, now that he thought about it. She was impossible to find once let out of sight.
Some friend, Harper thought a little bitterly. He wished he had something better to occupy his mind with other than irritating women who came and went wherever the wind blew them. Unfortunately, his current unemployment left the spurii with far too much time to himself. He had spent the whole day searching for people to recruit for Reilly, and aside from Ella, had found little success. Most of the women he approached weren’t eager to leave their posts, or, if they even entertained his offer and weak assurances that the pay was better, he would be chased off by angry bartenders or johns. It turned out the small, flirtatious enlil had not been exaggerating the possible consequences of poaching.
With the house Reilly planned to run his business from still under construction, Harper’s current job wasn’t able to bring him any profit. In the meantime, offering to do odd jobs such as sweeping up laicar barber shops or assisting a cook in a enlil restaurant when he wasn't working up the courage to ask prostitutes to work with him paid just enough to keep him fed. The spurii unfortunately had not been able to afford new clothes or a place to sleep indoors. In the desert climate of Aridus, this was a bad thing. His skin was drying out and his clothes smelled of old sweat.
Harper seriously contemplated spending the last of his money on a night in a cheap inn where he could take a bath. The idea of water made the man on the roof smile involuntarily. Even the memories of drifting lost in the ocean felt like a reprieve from the oppressive heat.
In the end, the spurii managed to rationalize the decision. If he smelled bad, people would not want to hire him nor would prostitutes be convinced he was anything but a grabby bum too broke to pay for their services.
By the time this thought had concluded, Harper had pushed himself up and was sliding off the roof. He landed in a crouch and dived into a somersault to release the shock and tension in his tightly coiled muscles. The taciturn man rose easily, as if he had simply been sitting on the ground, and headed towards a cheap bar he had found. Perhaps a loft room and a meal would be affordable if he agreed to wash dishes to cover the difference.
The West Watering Hole was an establishment run by demvir and velen. The pub served travellers and sailors who came inland from the ports on their way to the Aridian interior for trade or adventure. The woman at the bar was used to travel worn individuals, so when a scruffy spurii approached her, Rhea simply put on the swarthy smile she gave all her customers, sharp teeth glinting in the soft lighting.
Harper felt a bit of relief when the bartender smiled at him instead of making a disgusted face; perhaps he would get some real lodgings after all.
“What can I get for ya, stranger?” Rhea asked, polishing a glass. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
“Tell me about it,” Harper replied, straightening up. “How much for a night?”
“For a night? Just your luck the sailors that stopped by left this morning. A hundred for the first night and then fifty for each night after.”
The male spurii tried not to wince. He subtly ran the exa in his pocket through his fingers. “The rooms must be pretty good for that price.”
“They’re not too big, but the beds are comfortable and the showers run hot. Plenty of people come to stay for a night or two.”
Harper’s fingers tightened around his money. “Alright. How’s the food here?”
“You should order something and find out.” Rhea’s smile widened.
“I wish I could,” the former conman sighed, glancing at the door leading to the kitchens behind Rhea.
The velen woman gave him a considering look.
“You… do you…” Harper struggled to voice his request, “I could work for a place to stay.”
“Really.” The velen woman raised a brow.
“I used to work at a place, kind of like this one, in another city. I know the drill. I can clean, do heavy lifting… cook a little, bartend” the vagabond offered, trying to sell himself. Enthusiasm and offering information about himself weren’t strong suits. Harper hadn’t begged for work since he was much younger.
“Hmm, I suppose we could use a little kitchen help… tell you what,” Rhea leaned forward, “You can stay the night, but tomorrow I’m putting you to work, you hear?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Harper agreed gratefully.
“You’re alright,” the bartender decided with a nod. “I’m Rhea,” she added a moment later.
“Harper.” He dug in his pockets for what was left of his funds. “What’s the cheapest thing I can get?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rhea waved him off. “You can have some ceviche on the house. I’m sure you’ll work it off.”
“Thanks.”
Harper watched Rhea disappear into the kitchens briefly before she returned, wiping her hands on her apron. The grey-scaled woman assured him he would have his food soon. Then, she turned her attention to a fellow with laicar and velen heritage and started chatting with him.
A younger half-velen girl came from the kitchen with a plate, which she put on the counter of the bar in front of Harper. She was thin with olive skin, grey scales like Rhea’s on the upper half of her face and the backs of her arms. The girl flashed Harper a toothy smile and leaned forward.
“So… what do you think?”
The vagabond glanced down at his food. The shrimp and slices of fish on his plate had been “cooked” using acid and were arranged appetizingly on a bed of seaweed. Harper didn’t have much experience with velen food; his mother had died when he was small and his father had been an enlil. A strange pang of loss hit Harper when he realized why this dish seemed so familiar. His father had made something like this, but only rarely; things that reminded Augustino too much of… her pained the man.
Pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts, the adult spurii sampled a bite of the seafood. The taste of the fish, lemon, and spices he couldn’t identify combined to make a rather bright and savory series of flavors dance across his tongue.
“It’s good,” Harper admitted quietly.
The girl grinned. “I made it! Aemilia didn’t even help this time.” She puffed up, proud of herself.
The child was cute with wide sapphire eyes and curly feathers on her head highlighted by coils of purple cartilage. Judging by the lack of baby fat on her face and the skinniness of her arms, Harper judged that she was a preteen, maybe the same age he had been when he left Jacinth. The realization provoked a curiosity in him unusual for the normally reticent man.
“What’s your name?”
“Haven’t you got any manners?” the girl chided, planting her hands on her hips. “You’re s’posed to give your name first, then ask.” The posture reminded Harper of Bertha, the no nonsense head cook of Igne Ebrius. That woman had been intimidating in her own right, but this child lacked the seriousness and air of strength Bertha had.
Harper chuckled, grey eyes flashing. “Alright, sorry. Let’s start over. I’m Harper.”
The girl nodded once. “Aelia.”
“Pleased to meet you.” The vagabond returned his attention to the meal before him. He had not been exaggerating; Aelia was a talented cook for her age. She had probably been working her since she was much younger than this.
“Aren’t ya gonna say somethin' else, Mister?” Aelia prodded.
“Hmm….” Harper kept eating. To his amusement, the girl huffed and crossed her arms over her stained apron.
“You’re boring!” She declared.
Harper’s brow twitched, but he held his tongue.
“Stop bothering the customers, Aelie,” Rhea scolded, swatting Aelia.
“Yes, Ma’am…” Aelia groaned.
“Now get back to the kitchen.”
The girl heaved a dramatic sigh, but obeyed.
Rhea noticed the slight smirk playing about Harper’s lips. “That’s my little sister. She remind you of someone?”
Harper looked up from his ceviche. “Of two someones. The woman who taught me manners and a--” he paused. He couldn’t just refer to Ignis as a feather-brained idiot in this context. Realizing that Aelia reminded him of the flighty woman that had gone missing yet again was uncomfortable.
“Harper?”
“Sorry. I was just saying she reminds me of a friend.”
Rhea frowned, but didn’t press for details.