FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 2: Home and Hearth

It was a long day of work. I had five more chimneys to do myself, and helped out two other 'prentices with their climbs. I even had to go in and help one of 'em get unstuck. That was a scary moment. It had been a while since one of Alister's Boys had gotten stuck and died. I was glad we didn't break our current run of good luck.

With the sun down low and the streets being lit, we went home. Home being 21 Mulberry St. It wasn't actually a home -- not at first, anyway. It had been a two story shop of sorts that Alister had inherited from his Master Sweep and it's where he, and the rest of us sooty scoundrels, ate and slept.

It wasn't much to look at. The building had seen better days on the outside, what with the sign needing a fresh coat of paint and the cracked bricks, but it was nicer inside. Nice enough at least that sleeping outside wasn't preferable. I hear stories from other sweepers -- their places may as well be a barrel in an alley.

I sighed and walked in, pulling off my coat and hanging it up on the hook with my name written above it. I also put my tools in the small cubby under it after giving them a once over. I made sure they were still in fine condition and didn't need no mending.

After inspecting the livelihood, I checked over my coat. No rips or tares today. You learned quick to not wear a coat when working inside -- too easy to ruin your clothes. Everyone always messed that one up, though. When you go through winter with holes where your knees should be on your pants, you learn quick to listen to your elders.

Speaking of holes in my pants, that's what went next. I began to look myself over, not bothering to undress, but definitely running my hand along my clothes, feeling for any rips, tears, loose threads, or the like. If it was small, I could quickly stitch it up. If it was bad, Alister could do it -- if he was feeling up to it, that is. This line of work you went through clothes pretty quickly, even if you were careful.

Thankfully, at least from what I could see, I passed without anything but a loose thread on my sleeve. I bit it off and began to shake and pat myself down, watching as a black cloud of soot rose up around me. I was always dirty -- nothing I could really do about that -- but I could at least get the little bits out of me fur. A couple of the other boys doing the same routine coughed when the cloud of black passed over them.

"Oy!" I heard a voice say. That was Billy, the slightly taller and more muscular tiger that started right around when I did. "What you doing, Simon? You roll around in the soot at the end of a job? You're always so filthy."

"Tsk," I said, grinning and puffing my chest out. "I'm dirty 'cause I do my job right the first time, Billy-o. Why, being covered in soot is a mark of a good day's work!"

I watched as the tiger rolled his eyes, putting his vest back on after shaking it out. Billy was one of those boys who hated being dirty. He would shake off outside and pat himself down. It didn't do all that good, but he was not one to skip the bath we were supposed to get. Cats, right? Always so fussy about being clean.

"I swear you just want to be a piece of coal, Simon," Billy retorted with a half grin. "That way you can just lay around all day."

"Until I have to be thrown in the fire!" I countered, punching him playfully in the shoulder. "And I don't think I burn all that well. Best leave it for the rocks." I shook my headfur one more time, and a small bit of the stuff fell right out of my ear.

Billy pushed me away and growled. It wasn't a real growl, of course, but he hated being dirty, remember? "Don't touch me when you may as well be a fireplace. Go clean up or something."

"Nah," I said, walking away from the benches and deeper into the room, looking over my shoulder with a grin. "If I did that then who could torment you later?" That earned me a few laughs from the other boys.

There were fifteen of us in total, sixteen counting Alister. A lot of us had been here awhile, but there were always new boys, ones who were sold by their folks for some money, or the parish they were at selling their contract to Alister and other Mastersweepers. It wasn't an easy life, the newbies -- or "the soft pads" as we called 'em -- always took the job poorly. Most had to learn how to climb, how to clean, and how to hold your breath. Some didn't make it, and that was just the reality of the job. I'd been here longer than most, seen plenty of my fellow 'prentices go meet St. Thomas, or run away. Though not many did that from Old Man Alister.

Further into the first floor was a long table with some boys sitting along it. There were bowls on a small shelf and spoons. A pile of stale bread next to the hearth. Over it was a large cauldron of bubbling Sweeper Stew. Seems like one of us found some meat today.

"Oh boy!" I said, grabbing one of the bowls and rushing over to the hearth.

Bromley, a grey canine -- I couldn't really figure out what he was -- was stirring the large pot. He looked up at me, startled, but then grinned. "Oh, hey Simon."

"Hey Brom," I said, handing him my bowl. "I thought it was porridge today."

"Was supposed to be," Brom said, sniffing as he ladeled into my bowl a nice hot helping. "But Avery was working for Mrs. Cullingwood, and she gave him a whole roast chicken! I dunno how he didn't just gobble it up right there, but he said to do something with it, so here we are, Sweeper Stew!" Bromley grinned from ear to ear.

"That Avery," I said, grabbing one of the rolls and nodding to Bromley. "Saint in living flesh he is." I headed over to the table, looking for the guy.

Sweeper Stew, as we called it, is a rare meal for us. Usually we have porridge of some kind, maybe soup now and then. But when we get some meat, like a whole roast chicken, everyone pitches in in some way to find something to go into the pot. Looking down into my bowl I could see things like celery and carrots, and knew some of these were probably nicked at the markets but no one batted an eye as long as they didn't get caught. The fun thing about Sweeper Stew was that it was never the same thing twice. The next time we had it it could be with beef and potatoes.

I sat down across from Avery and pointed my spoon at him with a grin. "Man o' the hour. How'd you charm a whole chicken out of Mrs Cullingwood?" I asked, dipping my spoon into the wooden bowl and getting a nice hot mouthful. It was warm and salty and delicious. I closed my eyes and savored the moment, pulling the spoon out of my muzzle with a slow tug.

Avery was already done eating, licking his bowl. The small red wolf was younger than me but by how much was anyone's guess. We _kinda_had birthdays. Didn't really matter much, just that you got to the next day.

I chuckled when his yellow eyes met mine, as if I had interrupted him kissing his sweetheart and took another spoonful. "You two need a minute?"

The red wolf blushed and reached up, tugging down the front of his flat cap. It was too big on him -- he needed to fold his ears down and let the hat rest on them so it didn't fall over his eyes -- and huffed indignantly. "You weren't supposed to see that," he muttered.

"Sorry, chum," I said, already mostly done with my own bowl. I ripped the bread in two and put half of it in Avery's. "Thanks for donating the chicken. Really nice of ya," I said as I used my half of the roll to slop up the stew, having a little more dignity than Avery.

"I'da felt bad if I ate the whole thing by myself!" I said, looking up and flicking his hat up some so it fell to the side, letting one of his ears perk up with a flick. "'Sides, a whole chicken for myself? Probably'd just make myself sick. Plus you know Alister loves his chicken."

And that he does. You'd think a self respecting fox wouldn't make it so obvious he loves them birds. That stupid story about how a ferval ancestor of mine raided chicken coops still stuck around, like I have some kind of predisposition to eating chicken!

"Simon," Avery said, quietly in his whiny voice that made me instantly regret letting my tongue wag. "He was coughin' real bad when we got home today. He went right to his room. Bromley brought him a bowl of stew and he ate, but..."

I frowned and swallowed the last bit of my bread. "It's happening again, ain't it?"

"Yeah..." Avery said, looking down at the table with a frown. "It hasn't happened in months, I thought maybe he was getting better."

"I did too," I said, putting my chin in my hand and thinking. "He take the stuff?"

"The purple tonic? Yeah, I brought it to him myself! He's in his room now. I didn't want Brom to go in there since he's cooking, and I didn't want the guys going near him, either. You know how he is when his doors closed."

Alister had a secret only a few of us knew. The only reason Avery and I knew was we were there when he collapsed on the road last summer. There, he told us what was ailing him.

"Boys," Alister had said, breathing hard while he leaned against the wall. He had his top hat on the ground next to him. "I trust you can keep this between us, right?" Alister said with those same tired eyes of his. The eyes that said he was older than his years. It didn't help that he burst into a fit of coughing into that kerchief he had. When he pulled it away from his muzzle we saw blood.

"But...why..?" Avery had asked, clutching the man's sleeve gently. "We should know so we can help."

Alister merely shook his head, slowly pushing himself up and coughing some more. "No, Avery," he said with a firmer tone. "The more people that know the more it risks getting out about my condition."

"I don't understand..." Avery said, letting go of Alister's sleeve when he was at his full height. "Why is that bad?"

I got it right away. The seriousness on my face was clear enough that Alister put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I believe our dear Simon has the answer for you, Avery. Go with him for the rest of the day. Dare not speak of this with anyone," he said firmly, then left down the road back home.

"Simon..." Avery said, looking at me expectantly.

I sighed and turned, walking down the road to our next job. I explained, "If people find out Old Man Alister is sick, lots of bad stuff will happen. One" -- I held up my finger -- "he won't get offers from the parish anymore. The sisters wont offer boys to him when they think he's got one foot in the grave. Two" -- I held up another -- "some guys'll run away. Alister is a good 'un, what do you think will happen if they think they can't get by with him? We'll lose guys. And finally" -- a third finger went up -- "another Master Sweep could just try to take him out and sweep us all up. Ain't that common but...it happens, Avery."

I still remember that conversation and how chilling it was. We knew we did not have an easy life, but we also knew we were lucky to be with Old Man Alister. He actually seemed to care about us, you know, eating and junk. We had sworn to each other that we wouldn't tell nobody.

"Okay," I said, straightening up and grinning. "Avery, take your blanket and sleep on the bench next to his room. If anyone asks, say you're just waiting for Alister to let you in and he's making you wait 'cause you lost some soot or something. Make up a lie."

That got a frown from Avery. "Simon," he said flatly, "I don't lie as good as you. You lie like...like...a politician."

That made me grin some more. "Been awhile since I've been paid a finer complement, Avery chum." I threw my arm around him when I walked around the table. "No one'll say anything but Billy, and he's been stealing nips from that bottle he thinks no one knows about under the floorboard. He'll be out like a light."

Avery sighed, hanging his head, but nodding. "Fine, fine. But just because Old Man Alister made us promise."

"You worry too much." I let his shoulder go. "'Sides, at least he doesn't snore like Braun does, so you should get a good night's sleep for once."

"Everyone knows you're the loudest snorer up in the bunks, Si," he said with a glare. "And blaming it on Braun only works on the newbies."

"Damn," I muttered, "I need to come up with some new fibs."