A Fine Black Sky
CHAPTER TWO
Kid, as he was occasionally accused of being, particularly when he appeared at their elbow, or softly upon their path, walked once again the Long Halls, something he had begun first in bare feet, then stockinged feet, now in booted feet, upon the familiar passage to his Father’s Office. There was a kindness shown, of inbuilt duty and deference to his status, but he was more often than not looked on with sympathy - the Broken Boy. It didn't hurt, at least not as much as they thought it did. There were times when it stung a little, but Kid had no contrary position from which to differentiate. Pain was a necessary aspect of life, at least in Kid’s mind. It was something he didn't bring up, as he presumed, in some way, everyone he saw contained a little pain of their own, the burden they had to carry throughout their lives also. Because of his underdeveloped leg, Kid saw the world at least a foot, maybe two, below everyone else. He felt this gave him a unique view on his world.
The Nobles were stiff and robotic, aloof in manner, but also in aspect. They would always look down their large, dripping noses at Kid, while the citizens of the Tower, the visitors who knew little of the family of the Lord and the busy workers, bustling in and out of the Nobles like fish navigating a particularly busy stream, payed Kid the curtest of glances. If the workers did their job right, no one would notice them, wisping about like wavering spirits of the darkness that birthed them. People would stare as long as they dared at Kid, turning exaggeratedly when he spotted them. As Kid was unsure if it was his standing or his differences they stared at, he accepted them in the curious manner they became interpreted as.
There were no open windows in the Tower, making the air thick with odours dragged by the movement of people, the odour of those people themselves and the produce that dotted the walls where the worker rested, the indomitable smell of beer, where the olfactory stimulation of vegetation compelled to thrive in dark atmospheres with little to no new circulated air. There were vents above, high above, that removed the stale air, and vents below, far below, that drew in the musty air from the outside, with the aid of bellows as big as the Bellowing Beast - whatever that was - operated by the young of the citizens, making some resentful, which showed up in their mild acts of rebellion. Yet there were pockets of pure air, if one knew where to look. Kid did, as these corridors and passages were his playground from nearly the point at which he could hobble. They were a constant distraction for his family, what with the naturally curious Kid constantly finding places to hide that were invisible to all but him. Even his Brothers, his Father - even they did not know all of those places.
What drove him there had been concerned by the jeers of his peers, so that above all else, he desired solitude rather than the near constant abuse he suffered. Most of those boys were now on the bellows, as far as Kid knew. They were destined for a life of servitude. Kid was - well, Kid had no destiny. Not one he knew of, anyway.
He was, however, about to find out what the rest of his life would become. And it wasn't just to be the Broken Boy who Lived, the Extra Son, the Disregarded - a no one.
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