Dancing In the Shadows

-Original Fiction-

 

555

by Shuuki and Pookie

 

 

Chapter 5

 

The hour was early by the time Nathan led his new houseguest to the bedroom. The room was sparse but tasteful, furnished only with a dresser, chair, potted-plant, and wide bed. The over-stuffed mattress was soft and inviting and Sophe was asleep before Nathan could finish rummaging for a nightshirt. The man chuckled to himself as he pulled the covers up around them. Nathan sat on his bed, comfortably propped against the wall, and watched Sophe’s slow breathing. His fingers gently brushed the boy’s long chestnut hair and a small sigh escaped his lips. Dozens of questions burned unanswered on his lips. But Nathan was not too worried about them. His only concern right now was keeping Sophe safe. He sank down into his soft bed and closed his eyes with a smile. “Time enough to worry about it in the morning,” he thought to himself as he drifted into a long-awaited sleep.

 

The old church across the park chimed the early hour of 4 a.m. but residents of the 25th floor slept on unawares. A vague sound echoed through the man’s sleeping mind, slowly pulling him away from his dreams. Nathan automatically reached for his clock, trying to hit the snooze button. He heard the ringing sound twice more before finally opening his eyes. He glanced at the clock and turned over, mumbling angrily at being awake so early. The only evidence that Nathan had not gone to sleep alone was a faint depression in the mattress and pillow at his side.

 

He blinked a few times before reaching for the depression. “Sophe...” With a start he threw the covers away and jumped out of bed. He made his way towards the living room quickly but silently. The empty room greeted him with equal silence. The only movement belonged to the shadows of ships moving across the floor. Nathan stared at the empty living room, wondering where his young friend could be. “Sophe?” he called out softly, his voice echoing easily throughout the apartment. He took a quick glance into the kitchen. Finding it empty, Nathan quickly turned around and walked up to the bathroom door. He knocked on it twice before slowly opening the door and looking in. “Sophe?” Nathan flipped the lights on. The bright light quickly flooded the apartment, forcing him to half close his eyes. While throwing some clothes on, he quickly scanned the apartment for any trace Sophe might have left.

 

“Where in the world did that kid go?” he mumbled half-worried, half-angry. “It’s way too early for this,” he said in a small whine. Nathan grabbed his coat and quickly dashed out his front door. He wondered if maybe the doorman would have noticed the kid leaving, not that he had high hopes of that happening...

 

Worried thoughts continually crossed his mind as he made his way down to the lobby. There were so many places Sophe could have gone to, so many things that could have happened to him. He cursed himself mentally for not noticing the kid leave his room. He took one glance at the sleeping doorman and gave up on getting any information there. The cool air wrapped around him as he stood outside his apartment, debating which way to go. On a hunch, he briskly made his way down towards the Theater District, trying to remember just where they had been the previous night. In his haste, he almost missed the small side street that led to Trembure. The streets around him were eerily quiet compared to just a few hours ago. He stopped in front of the restaurant, remembering Sophe’s words.

 

Nathan peered into the large front window but could see nothing. After a few seconds he made a quick scan of the surroundings. He noticed a small door leading to a dark path that ran along side the building. He jumped over the door, not wanting to test whether it was greased or not. After making sure no one was around, he made his way silently down the path, his eyes searching methodically around him. A faint light peeked around the corner at the end of the building where the path ended. The sound of a deep voice grew louder as Nathan approached; a rich melody cut into the morning air and Nathan realized it was someone singing. Nathan slowed his pace and paused at the edge of the brick building. He listened to the singing and smiled. The singer had a lovely voice, and knew how to use it. He made his way around the corner, his open hands falling by his side. He coughed once to attract the singer’s attention and said in a merry voice, “I thought no one enjoyed the early mornings anymore. I’m glad to be proven wrong.” As he spoke, his eyes continued to scan the surrounding area.

 

The warm light of Trembure’s kitchen cast a perfect rectangle through the open door onto the brick of the backyard. The shadow of a large man stretched across it as the owner strode into the doorway. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and flour covered his apron. He held a heavy wooden rolling pin in his left hand. “Who is wandering about in my garden at this hour?” he boomed into the darkness.

 

“Please forgive me, I was wandering around town and seemed to be drawn to your garden.” Nathan slowly made his way towards the light, keeping his hands open, showing he was inoffensive. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Trembure. I should not have barged in uninvited.” He smiled at the man.

 

Allacott’s features relaxed instantly as he recognized the prowler. “Mr. Nattan!” He flashed his wide smile in return. “Many are drawn to Allacott’s back door and at many hours, but all come with a purpose. Come in, come in and regale me with yours.” The owner cocked his head and waved his broad hand at the interior of his kitchen.

 

“You are too kind, sir.” Nathan dipped his head lightly to the man and made his way into the kitchen. “I’m quite honored you remember who I was,” he said with a smile that almost rivaled Allacott’s.

 

The owner clapped Nathan on the back and ushered him to a seat at the wooden island in the center of the room. “I never forget a customer Mr. Nattan,” he laughed, “Or a friend. Or a friend of a friend.” He rinsed the flour off his hands in the metal sink and dried them as he joined Nathan on a high stool. “But you are missing a friend yourself this morning, are you not?”

 

Nathan sat down and followed Allacott’s movements across the room. He smiled at the question, though a hint of worry could be seen in his smile. “Ah yes. Seems like my friend had prior engagements this morning.”

 

Allacott leaned to the end of the table and dragged a bottle back with him.  He shook his head in amusement, “I told you to watch him.”

 

Nathan laughed softly and nodded. “That you did. The boy was just too smart for me I guess.” He eyed Allacott and the bottle he was holding. “What was it you had called him? The Prince of...?”

 

Two teacups appeared from beneath the island in Allacott’s hand. He set them between he and his guest and uncorked the bottle. “Cities, Mr. Nattan.” He raised an eye to Nathan as he poured the amber colored contents into the two cups. His eye twinkled as he regarded the younger man. “And princes have things to do...” He set the bottle down and raised the teacup to his nose. “…Always things to do.” He swirled the liquid as he inhaled. He nodded toward Nathan to help himself before taking a delicate sip.

 

Nathan thanked him and raised the cup, breathing in the scent. “Yes, I guess I can understand a prince has much to do...” He took a tentative sip from the cup, his dark eyes never leaving his host. “Out of curiosity, what might a Prince of Cities do in the early hours of the morning?”

 

Allacott set down his cup and chuckled. His smile was like a Cheshire cat’s. “Ask yourself what princes do, Mr. Nattan. What do they do for their cities? Ask yourself that,” he raised a finger as he emphasized the word, “and you will have your answer.”

 

Nathan took another sip from his cup and set it down. A small smile was on his lips as he considered Allacott’s words. “What does a prince do for his city...?” He laughed and looked back at the man. “How long has it been since I’ve thought of royalty?”

 

Allacott refilled Nathan’s cup before heaving himself to his feet again. “‘Tis not often we meet them, Mr. Nattan: this back alley aristocracy, this underground monarchy, troubadours of insight.” He wandered to the oven and stuffed his hands into some baking mitts. He grabbed a wooden paddle and opened the iron-stove door. “They show up on your back doorstep, fallen from the heavens, fallen from grace.” He fished out a rack of buns with the long handled paddle and swung it toward the table.

 

Nathan smiled as his eyes followed Allacott, listening to his words. He glanced towards the backdoor and said, “Many interesting people seem to land at your backdoor...” He looked back at Allacott as he pulled out the warm buns. “You are a very interesting man, Mr. Trembure. I almost wonder where you would fit in that world...”

 

Allacott smiled knowingly as he set down the hot rack on the table. He leaned the paddle against the side and freed his hands from the mitts. “Seems it is not my place you’re wondering about this morning, Mr. Nattan, so much as your own I think.”

 

Nathan spread out his hands in front of him with a small grin. “Ah, I am but a simple wanderer... I do not think I will ever find my place...” His grin faded into an enigmatic smile.

 

“Now now now,” replied the owner, “Do not say such things, Mr. Nattan. Fill your mouth with my bread instead of such talk now.” He pushed the rack toward Nathan. “It is early yet! And as the trickster in the old drama said, ‘Each puzzle has a key and each life has a puzzle, therefore reason can only tell us that each life must have a key.’” Allacott nabbed a bite from a bun and winked. “And each bun needs a jelly!” The man’s booming guffaw encompassed the kitchen as he laughed at his own joke. He shuffled merrily to the cabinet and rummaged through numerous jars on each shelf.

 

“It’s all about puzzles and keys.” Nathan laughed heartily and took a piece of the warm bun. “My apologies then; I shall remember that saying.” He took a bite of the bread and smiled broadly as he watched the man reach for the jars. “This bread is delicious by the way!”

 

“Of course it is!” Allacott grinned as he strode back to the table with dozens of jars in his arms. “Take as many as you please Mr. Nattan. Princes are hungry after a day’s work.” The owner slipped several jars into a paper bag and several more buns into another. He shoved the bags into Nathan’s arms and was suddenly ushering him to the door.

 

Nathan couldn’t help but like this big man and his crazy ways. He suddenly found himself standing outside with paper bags in his arms, staring at the grinning man. He dipped his head in a scant bow and smiled at Allacott. “I thank you for your hospitality. I can understand why people are drawn to your door. I hope they all have an interesting time as I had.” He grinned. “Till the next time?” With that he turned around, making his way back home talking merrily to himself, “A Prince of Cities, a Royal Cook.” He laughed at his own words. “Court life is so interesting these days...”

 

Allacott waved after Nathan, “Take care, Mr. Nattan. Take care and watch your step!” He closed the door, his chuckle following him inside.

 

Nathan whistled a happy tune as he made his way back into the main street. People were slowly starting to wake and soon enough the streets would be buzzing with morning commuters. He glanced down at the two bags he carried and shook his head. He had wanted to find Sophe but had instead gotten a breakfast. He chuckled. Oh well, things could have been much worse. His walk was brisk as he headed home, hoping he wouldn’t need to eat breakfast alone.