Page 1 of By Mistake
One
Andrus shivered as he huddled in the empty kitchen counting out his few remaining coins.His hands and face were half-frozen, and winter hadn't even set in yet.He absolutely dreaded getting through another biting winter without sufficient wood, but food had to come first.Worst came to worst, he could huddle in the temple for warmth, though he reallyhatedwhen he had to do that.If he was mindful and was able to get good bargains, he should be able to secure food for the rest of the week and have enough left over for some firewood.He still had some tea, so that was something, especially if he cut down on how much he used per cup and reused the leaves as long as possible, or maybe…
As if provoked by thoughts of food, his stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten for the better part of two days.If not for a lucky break in finding a necklace he'd missed before, he wouldn't be eating the rest of the week, either.
He tucked the coins carefully away in an inner pocket where they couldn't be stolen, rubbed at his sore, tired eyes, and headed out the kitchen door, cutting through alleyways to reach the market.The hour was early yet, barely any light in the sky, but it was his best chance to get better food for a cheaper price.Well, he could go at the very, very end of market day and buy up the dregs, get them for practically nothing, but often those went rotten way faster, or were so small and bruised or broken that there were very few usable bits even left.Plus, he was still doing better than most poor people as he still had an actual house, so he preferred to leave those for people whoreallyneeded them.He did just fine going first thing in the morning.
Loaf of bread, then a sack of onions and some watercress.If he was lucky, he'd get those cheap enough he could also get some turnips and carrots.He had no fat or butter to cook them in, but turnips or carrots roasted over the fire would be marvelous, especially with toasted bread.Anything was better than another day of weak tea for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He shivered in the cold and pulled his jacket more tightly around him, but the thin, worn wool was no match for the encroaching winter, and he'd had to sell his good coat months ago.If by some miracle he ever had real money, the kind where he no longer had to worry about it every single moment of his life, his first indulgent purchase would be a fur-trimmed cloak.
The marvelous scents of the market reached him before he stepped out of the alleyway: porridge and sizzling sausages and roasted chestnuts.He could even smell the butter and honey of breakfast cakes, a treat that only the merchants and higher working class could afford.Andrus had loved them as a boy, sitting in the kitchen to eat while his mother made them, before their lives had gone from good to bad to worse.The taste of breakfast cakes was only a memory now, one of many to torment him while he huddled alone and cold in his empty house.
Soon, he wouldn't even have the house, but it was too early in the morning to dwell on that yet.
Approaching the baker's stall, Andrus set to haggling.Thankfully the baker was one of the kinder vendors, not the type who knew Andrus was technically nobility and held that against him, or acted like he was lying and trying to cheat them, even though that made no sense, because wouldn't most nobles with actual money send servants to do their shopping?Andrus had always gone with his mother to do the shopping, for as long as he could remember.When she'd gotten too sick to do it, he'd taken over.
Despite all the years he'd been coming here, however, he was still treated as Other.The same way his so-called peers treated him as Other, for crimes he hadn't committed and poverty that wasn't his fault.Of the two, it often felt like they thought the poverty was the greater flaw.
"Thank you, Gregor.Have a good day," Andrus said, and Gregor gave him a smile and wave before focusing on the next customer.
Andrus carefully tucked his prizes into his baskets.Two slightly smaller loaves of bread, overcooked and a day old, and not the one big loaf of fresh, soft bread he'd been hoping for, but this would last longer and so was a much smarter purchase.He'd also gotten them at a discount, so his hope for turnips and carrots was looking better and better.Toasted bread covered in softened onions and carrots, and he could make the turnips into a mash for breakfast and dip bread in it… Maybe he could use the tea—
The most beautiful laugh in the world jerked him from his thoughts, and Andrus looked helplessly toward the source.
Investigator Kalhan, at market earlier than usual, chatting cheerfully with the breakfast-cake vendor while he ate.No person should be so beautiful, let alone have the inner goodness to go with it, and yet Kalhan did.That lovely olive skin, and eyes so deep a blue they were mesmerizing, dark wavy hair that was always combed neatly back.There was a smattering of small burn scars on his right cheek like someone had thrown embers in his face, but they did nothing to detract from his loveliness.He was always so friendly and kind, helping people and sorting out problems, even though, as an investigator, such minor things were well below his duties.
He was every daydream Andrus had ever spun as a boy, hoping for a beautiful hero to fall madly in love with him and sweep him into a life where he never had to worry about food or being cold ever again, where he was never lonely, never afraid.Where he'd be loved and cherished, able to socialize and make friends and spend hours a day on correspondence because he had such a busy life.
He'd have more luck wishing for money to fall from the sky.The daydreams had been given up on years ago, buried once and for all when he'd lost first his mother, and then his father not even a month later.People as wonderful as Investigator Kalhan weren't for the likes of him.
So Andrus did what he always did when he was lucky enough to be at market the same day as Kalhan: watched quietly from afar, a deep, twisting ache in his chest, and memorized every smile and laugh and moment of kindness to relive later alone in his cold, lonely house.
Even if someone like Kalhan did notice him, what could Andrus possibly offer?The highlight of his day was possibly being able to affordcarrots, for the love of gods.He'd be spending most of his day turning old bedsheets and curtains into clothes.In another month, barring some unforeseen miracle, he'd be living on the streets, kicked out of the home his family had owned for six generations because he hadn't been able to pay the property taxes the last two years.
And no one would hire him, not even for the lousiest jobs in the city, and Andrus had no idea why.
Well, no, he knew exactly the reason why.He just didn't know how the cretinous bastard had managed it.
Resettling his basket, Andrus went back to work, stopping at the onion cart where he haggled a good twenty minutes on a measly ten onions.He'd hoped for fifteen good onions, not ten small ones, but he would make it work.He didn't have a choice.
Next was watercress, where he had a good deal more luck, as the vendor had far more of it than she was likely to sell in one day, leaving him with six bunches instead of four.That more than made up for the lackluster onions.Maybe he could manage a soup?It wouldn't have much flavor, but it would be warm and last for days…
Heartened by the idea, he hastened to the vegetable seller he favored, an old woman who didn't care who was buying as long as theywerebuying."Good morning, Hinta."
"Good morning," she replied gruffly, not bothering to stand up, sipping at a cup of tea that smelled absolutely wonderful, like roses and honey."What are you after today, boy?"
"Turnips and carrots, please."
Several minutes later, Andrus walked away smiling.Everything.He'd gotten everything he'd hoped for today, and with a bit of coin leftover.If the firewood purchasing went just as well, maybe he could buy—
Rough hands shoved him hard from behind, sending him tumbling, tripping, slamming into the old cobblestones of the market square.His basket went flying, food scattering everywhere, where it was stepped on, crushed by a cart, and his bread landed in a puddle of slushy mud."No!"Andrus cried out, scrambling to his feet, ignoring the blood on his scraped hands, the pain in his arms.
He scooped up the basket, but nothing remained inside except for a single onion and two turnips.
All the rest of his food was gone.The awkward silence from when he'd fallen had already turned back into chatter, and everyone was making an effort not to look at him.Andrus pinched his eyes shut to fight tears.Nobody would help him, he knew that from previous experience.His day had been going sowell.It wasn'tfair.All he'd wanted was food for the week!Why was even that too much to ask of the gods?Why could they not give him one fucking kindness?
"Are you all right?"
