The Watcher and the Runner
Enrig chased Merriqh up the corridor, dodging weave baskets, pitchers, and even passing workers. His arms rasped against the naked rock walls and he felt the smell of wet stone with every gasp.
“Merriqh!” He called. “Merriqh, wait.”
He was forced to slow down when he reached the exit chamber. Luckily for him, so was Merriqh. The room was packed full of workers. A mob of half-fed beggars, desperate enough to risk their lives on the surface for a dozen gold Spades.
“You have to take me.” Enrig pleaded.
“No, I don’t.” Merriqh replied.
The king’s overseer was a balding man with three scars and a limp that he had earned in the days when he himself had been a Watcher. Enrig swallowed a curse. He was trying his best not to be annoying, but even he could tell it wasn’t working.
“Yes, you do. You need me.”
“Why?” Merriqh inspected a pile of empty containers and then gave a group of workers permission to carry them. “You’re still a kid, you’re too slow to be a Watcher.”
“No, I’m not!” Enrig protested. “Ugas is larger than a bull, are you saying he’s faster than me?”
“Hey!” Ugas cried from across the room. “I can hear you, you piece of snot.”
Enrig ignored him.
“And I have better sight than most of them, too.”
“Bullshit!” Yelled someone behind Ugas.
With few exceptions, the group of Watchers Merriqh employed was a bunch of overpaid slackers. Even the overseer could see that. They were gathered at the corner closest to the exit, as they would be the first to leave the safety of the underground.
“Oh yeah?” Challenged Enrig. “Last Fall, who spotted that Dragon on the third day of the harvest?”
For a moment, no one answered him.
“You did.” Merriqh conceded.
“Exactly. And almost too late, because it was his quadrant.” Said Enrig pointing at a Watcher called Teric.
“Fuck you, kid!” Teric growled. “The sky was darker than my asshole.”
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