They thought they were nothing, a nobody, just another face in the crowd. Then they ran and grabbed the reigns of the horses of a runaway carriage before it could end up tipping into the ravine, and their whole life changed. -- Anon Guest
They call the town Cliffbridge, after its most noticeable feature, the D'varuv-made bridge across the ravine that divided the mountains in twain. Legend said that it was the result of a giant's sword, or some demon attempting to split the world. It all depended who you listened to. Some even said it was because giant plates were sliding around under the surface of the globe.
Some people will say any old thing.
There's other bridges. Not as firm. Not as famous. There's even one that's overloaded with housing. Cheap housing, because the waste disposal system was to chuck the contents of the gazunder over the edge. The chasm was so deep that none of the smell rose back up to annoy anyone who had to live there.
Which was a good thing for Nam, who lived in one of the underhangs. There were no windows in any of them, since the only view was of the dark ravine walls, and the constant rains of -well- effluent. Nam spent most of their days climbing up and down stairs. Begging for work when they weren't just straight-up begging.
If it was a good day, they could earn enough for a bowl of stew and a heel of bread at the local tavern. If they were very lucky, they could afford a small ale[1] to go with it. On a bad day... it was a day like this. Wandering the wealthier part of the city and hoping for alms from the highborn.
That was what lead to the near accident that changed her life.
Workmen were restoring part of the famous Cliffbridge's ramparts, laying new brickwork for a stretch of wall that had once fallen victim to a Giant's fist. The area was roped off and most traffic routed around it.
Nam heard the screaming before they saw it. A carriage out of control. The driver absent from their post. The horses panicked and running straight for danger because it was away from the thing that spooked them.
People ran for safety. People tried to scare the horses into a different direction. Only Nam ran for their bits and bridles. Sheer luck had them grasping the rigging with their legs and swinging unsteadily upright to pull on the reins.
The world spun. People screamed. The horses tried to run into each other and came to a halt out of sheer confusion.
Inches from tipping the whole thing into the chasm below.
Nam had just enough time to realise how close they came to death when the Watch pounced, slamming them to the ground and attempting to charge them with attempted horse theft and kidnapping.
Then the highborn alighted from the carriage. "Release them, if you please. This person saved my life." She wore silk and lace, and colours Nam couldn't name. The width of her skirts could outline Nam's entire hovel in the underhangs, if one included the frills.
She could have been a Faerie, she was so dazzling.
Then Nam saw the faint trails of hair out of place, and the blooming bruises beginning to form on her arms and face. The rumples of her dress. She was Human, after all.
"I would pardon them, if they had committed a crime," she said to the Watch. "Do you have a name?"
"They call me Nam, Ma'am," they managed.
"My driver caught an arrow meant for me," she said. "Can you drive my carriage back to Annual Lane, where he fell? I would seek to know if he survived."
"I've driven a cart or two," allowed Nam. "I can try."
It was slow and careful going to find Annual Lane, where the driver had not only survived but found healing in a hospice. Nam had permanent employ, thanks to her Ladyship. As an advisor from the lowest rung of society, telling her how her decisions and laws effected people like them.
It certainly prevented any further assassins.
[1] The fantasy worlds' answer to soft drink. Small ale was stuff that was barely brewed and had a negligible alcohol content. Think ginger ale or root beer.
[Photo by Hayden Scott on Unsplash]
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