Page 2 of Enkindling

At any rate, I was now part of the special oversight commission due to that presentation, and with that came more academic freedom and more access to funding.Thank God, I thought with a deep sighand dared to think farther into the future. With any luck,I would achieve tenure in just a few more years and maybe even become Dean down the line.

By the time I disembarked at the main gate, I had thoroughly convinced myself that celebrating alone would be an utter travesty. At the very least, my mood called for some fine wine and good music. There was no better night than a Friday to indulge in the music of the orchestra, and there was a performance by a famed composer this very night. I had worked like a horse for a month; I deserved the break. I would get tickets and go out to dinner, I decided, but first I would get bread and a bottle of fine wine. After that, all I would have to do was see who was available to attend.

Just like that, it was settled. Turning my back on the direction that led home, I plunged into the chaos of the town.

Only in hindsight would I realize the sheer enormity of such a trifling decision.

***

I wended my way through a sea of people, hoping to catch a cab. Making the journey to the town on foot was a doable but unwelcome prospect given the distance. Men’s gazes flickered in my direction as I went, and a few well-dressed gentlemen greeted me politely or otherwise tipped their hats in passing. I was used to the attention. Attraction aside, my status as a professor at the university afforded me some small renown. It was also known that I was still unmarried, which only inspired more interest. For my part, I maintained the same respectful distance I always had. Marriage was a dream of mine, but for the moment, things were complicated.

I found a cab, and soon we were trundling off into the heart of town. I noted with a heavy heart that the driver was little more than a boy, though he was admirably capable. I kept my thoughts to myself, but I was always acutely aware of the number of children scurrying about, just as busy as the adults, whenever I came to town. Most people were oblivious to it, and one couldn’t blame them. This was simply the way things had always been. I couldn’t help pursing my lips and brooding; child labor was an issue I took seriously, especially after a particular incident in the past.

Firmly deciding to stop that train of thought, I forced my attention onto other things, which was thankfully a simple matter. The roads in town were far bumpier and more treacherous than the ones on campus; the cabs were markedly less luxurious, and there was a fair bit more of collectively leaning left and right, to say nothing of the considerably packed carriages. My little driver handled it all expertly, however; at the end of the ten-minute ride, I gave him a generous tip. The beaming smile he offered me in response was worth it.

I got my fresh, hot bread from the bakers without incident. I hurried on to the winery, politely navigating my way through small armies of bustling people and the occasional squadron of solicitous men. It was there that I had my first hint of anything unusual. Upon entry, a tall figure I was sure I had seen seemed to vanish into thin air when I gave the place a second glance. But that was not altogether unusual, so I conducted my business cheerily and let myself settle into thoughts about the approaching evening as well as the coming weeks and months.

Upon leaving, however, I had the distinct feeling of being watched. After scanning the crowd surreptitiously, I set off at a lively pace, doing my best to ignore the faint prickle now playing along my spine. All I had to do was keep a firm hand on my bags, move with the crowd and perhaps try to spy on a police officer just in case, I told myself. Cutpurses was a known hazard in certain parts of the town, but it wasn’t difficult to avoid those areas usually. Besides, I was only minutes away from being able to catch a cab home.

I was beginning to feel safe when, in an open area withfewerpeople jumbled together, I felt a harsh tug and caught a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I grabbed my bags tighter and found myself being dragged forward along with them. With a sharp cry, I collapsed to the ground, having thoroughly lost my balance, but not before managing to pull the would-be thief down with me. If nothing else, I would put up a fight before losing my goods.

The reaction was instant. The youth came crashing down but was immediately up again with the springiness of rubber, yet the crowd had already begun to close on him. He glared at me with the eyes of a cornered rat, and I found myself looking at the dirty, frightened face of a boy I thought couldn’t possibly be a day over fourteen. Pity for him and worry for my safety warred within me.

The boy was determined not to leave empty-handed and promptly brandished a knife. The pity I'd initially felt for him gradually began to subside as fear and anger set in. I shrank back, releasing my bags in panic. The crowd, meanwhile, had switched to a wary but determined approach. Already a few men were striding to my aid,en garde, and women clutched their bags and their children as they watched with wide-eyed interest.

It was clear that the boy, who was now scanning the crowd, was resolved to make a break for it with his prize. But he seemed more frightened and clumsier than anything, and pity came roaring back. It was at this point that someone appeared from behind me, interposing himself between us, and staring down the youth grimly.

“You’ll hand those back now, young fellow,” said the stranger, whose deep voice rang with quiet, casual confidence.

Immediately the crowd froze, everyone focusing on the three of us in the center. The men who had been approaching stopped in their tracks, still on guard, watching.

“Why don’t you make me, then?” the youth challenged him. His bravado was spoiled only by the obvious furtive looks he cast around him. He had messed up this badly, and he knew it. But when I watched him ready his knife, I instantly knew he was not an empty bluster. His hand was sure, his eyes steely. He was willing to escape here by any means if he could.

The stranger moved with unnatural speed. With cat-like movements, he closed the gap between them, evading the frightened but sure thrust of the knife-like water flowing around a rock, and disarmed the youth with ridiculous ease. Then, just like that, it was over, the conqueror having pinned his challenger to the ground in one deft move. The boy was utterly helpless and howling in pain. He was bleeding a little, but I could not have said when and where he had been wounded; I hadn’t blinked for a single second.

The crowd sprang into motion as if it had been suddenly released from a petrifying spell. Several hands helped me up and supplied me with my bags once again, making sure to check that I was alright. I was fine except for my broken wine bottle, which filled me with disappointment as I watched the now useless liquid pooling on the muddy ground. The bread, at least, was still fit for use. Other people secured the youth gruffly, and the noise of chatter flooded in to replace what had been stony silence mere moments ago. Meanwhile, someone had gotten a policeman, who now came striding in to take charge of the whole affair.

I looked at the young boy with deep sorrow; pity won the war after all. A second officer had come along and now he was being marched away without a semblance of sympathy. But when I turned to see my savior and offer him my thanks, he was gone. Hurriedly, I turned myself only to catch sight of him already vanishing into the crowd. I started after him and began to call out to him, but the first policeman was several steps ahead of me. Already he was blocking the man’s path, forcing him into a conversation. The man seemed annoyed. He had meant to melt into the crowd and carry on with his day anonymously, my desire to thank him became damned.

I did not mind his annoyance in the slightest if it meant I could indeed express those thanks. As I approached, the policeman turned his head to acknowledge my presence. The first thing that surprised me about them was how it seemed that the officer, who had previously been so authoritative and adamant about not letting this man disappear into the town on his terms, seemed now to be deferring to him.

But I was utterly unprepared for what happened next.

“Damn it all,” I heard the man swear under his breath, even as I opened my mouth to speak.

“Thank you for your help, officer,” I ventured as I inclined my head toward him. “And for detaining my savior. I was worried I wouldn’t have been able to thank him.”

“Not at all, madam,” the officer replied with an apologetic smile. “The way I hear it, he did all the work. Forgive me for not coming to see you directly, but I noticed he was leaving and felt I had to at least find out who we were dealing with. Public safety, you know…” he trailed off, giving the man a sideways glance.

The man had yet to face me and indeed seemed to want to be anywhere but here.How odd, I thought. All I wanted was to thank him. Usually, people would at least stick around to receive that much after they had helped someone the way he had just done.

“Sir,” I began unabashed, “I realize you seem to be in a rush, but I must thank you for what you did just now. You likely saved my life or at the very least of my health.” I offered him a polite curtsy. “I am grateful.”

“It was no problem at all, ma’am,” he replied softly. “Be careful going forward. There are more of his kind about.”

“I will, sir,” I said, moving so I could get a good look at him. “But you put yourself in mortal danger because of me. I would be most honored if—” I began again, but the rest of the sentence died in my throat as I finally got a good look at this man.

I blinked once, twice, three times. My lips, parted mid-sentence, seemed to have completely lost the ability to move, and my mouth was suddenly drier than it had ever been. Gaping, I caught myself and tried to say something – anything – but all I could manage was opening and closing my mouth like some sorry fish in a tank. The acrid sting of emotion swelled in my chest without warning, and my eyes were now swimming with tears that we're perilously close to spilling over. I was hardly aware of the moment my fingers refused to hold anything anymore or of the sound of the bags hitting the ground. I could scarcely breathe and was in imminent danger of joining my bags on the floor. I felt like I had been hit by a speeding cab.

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