'Town' turned out to be a surprisingly well-organized group of buildings made of anything the builders could get their hands on. He’d been expecting ragged boxes and human-sized rat nests, but he found small houses made from repurposed pallets, shipping containers stacked and turned into studio apartments, and in some cases, people had burrowed into the wall and made their homes there. The whole effect was creative and oddly attractive.
They were walking past an enormous, brightly colored tent that appeared to be a mercantile of some sort. It seemed to sell everything from teapots to spell books.
A buxom woman wearing a costume made of strips of cloth that were just as colorful as her tent poked her head out and yelled, “No norms allowed, Eira! You know that.” Her eyesglowed with a golden light and illuminated everything in front of her.
Clayton winced at the sudden brightness and looked down at his newly pressed trousers and his pristine, white button-down shirt. Then he took in what everyone else was wearing and noted that the overarching theme was shabby and eclectic. To them, he imagined he looked a lot like a norm.
“Gelda, you overblown busy-body, he's a guardian. He's here to find out about the thefts.” Eira rolled her eyes.
Gelda’s demeanor made a complete one-eighty. Her face brightened, and Clayton could practically see the dollar signs in her glowing eyes. “In that case, I have a lovely journal you might be interested in, Guardian...” The woman trailed off encouragingly, toying with a dozen or so strands of beads hanging around her neck.
“Wood. Clayton Wood at your service, ma'am.” He bowed slightly with a small flourish he had been working on in his room late at night. He was beginning to think he should have clarified his ‘not exactly a guardian’ status to the children after all. But in for a penny… “Don't worry, I'll have the problem sorted out in no time.”
She raised an eyebrow at his name. In Other society, a name like Wood, Park, or Pond usually meant that the child was named after the place they were found.
“Well, look at you, coming from nothing and becoming a guardian.” Gelda fanned herself at the thought of the hours of gossip she could get from the encounter.
“Yes, well... quite.” It was true that foundlings usually ended up in places like the underground village they were currently in, rather than the comfortable home he had been brought up in, but Clayton never knew what to say when people brought it up. He chose deflection. “Ms. Gelda, if it wouldn't be too muchtrouble, I would love to talk to you about what you think about the recent thefts in the village.”
Not being able to resist being part of the story she would soon be spreading around the town, Gelda nodded eagerly. “Of course! Anything to help The Guard.”
“Have you been affected at all?” Being a purveyor of interesting things, Clayton would assume she would have incurred some loss.
“Oh, no, not at all. These old eyes are too sharp for anyone to pull shenanigans on me. Besides, the only things going missing are coming fromtheirpart of town.” The way she rolled her eyes at the children as she said 'their' made it clear who she thought the culprits were.
“What about suspicious behavior? Seen any of that?” That seemed like a good question to ask. They were always asking it in crime shows. But to his consternation, both women burst out laughing.
“What?”
Eira was the first to calm down, and she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Dear, look where you are. The only thing we get here is suspicious behavior.”
Clayton tugged at his collar. “I suppose you're right.” He thought for a moment. “I don't know this area like you do, Eira. Where would you start?”
He must have said the magic words, because Eira stopped looking at him like she had made a mistake bringing him here and instead grew thoughtful. “I'd start by going places I wouldn't have dared to before I had the backing of a guardian.” Clayton didn't think he liked where the conversation was going.
“There's a bar at the end of town that most people don't go to,” Eira said, tapping her chin. “You might want to question the people there.”
“Let me guess, dingy, dark, and everyone is going to stop talking when we enter?”
“So you've been there, have you?” Gelda looked absolutely ecstatic.
“You people don't watch much telly, do you?” It wasn't really a question.
For most of the Other, there was too much magic being cast in, on, and around their houses for an electronic device as complicated as a television to be of much use. Not like Clayton’s home.
Clayton’s magic had never managed to mature during his formative years. Tests had been done, and the results had been inconclusive. Everyone agreed that he had it, but no one could figure out where he was keeping it.
Clayton thought it was probably being stored inside another guardian with more magic than their share *cough* Marshall *coughcough* and they needed to give it back already.
Clayton tried not to let it get him down, though. Instead, he worked twice as hard to learn as much as possible, so he could be a useful member of the Guard. Samantha certainly never found fault with him, and she always forgave his little… peculiarities. Especially since he was always ready, willing, and able to clean up after everyone.
There were identical looks of confusion on both women's faces. “Telly?”
“Television.” Merry rolled her eyes as if to say,adults, right?“Nobody has one of those down here.”
Tommy pulled on Clayton's trouser leg. “Merry and I sometimes watch cartoons at Walmart. We can't stay for too long, or the norms'll get suspicious. I like Thomas.” The last part was a whisper, as if he were imparting a precious secret.
Clayton crouched down and whispered back, “Me too.”
