He was gone for a long time. It was noon when Ebernathy brought Vyncent in, and now the sun had gone down about an hour ago, leaden clouds blowing in to quicken the darkness. The silver-haired girl said not a word since they met. Every time he looked at her, she would turn away from him. What does this Ebernathy intend to do with us? wondered Vyncent. The esper in my soul is far too valuable to get rid of, he tells me. Does he intend to have me sire it? Then, this girl …
Vyncent looked at her. She lay on her side, probably asleep, he assumed. Lady Snowvale, Ebernathy had called her.
"Are you awake?" Vyncent spoke quietly and gently in case she was.
She shifted around at his voice.
"Yes," the first word he heard her say so meekly.
Vyncent did not expect her to respond, but now that she did, there were so many things he needed to ask her. First, he inquired about her well-being. Their captors didn't hurt her, she told him. It was during the fall of Aventyne when they caught her. Gema Snowvale, her aunt, and her soldiers were to see her safe to a stronghold in the north. Stopping at a village to rest, the kidnappers stole her and brought her all the way here to Ebernathy.
"He says magic comes from a different source," the girl explained, her voice soft and quiet, "so he doesn't believe the prophecy or espers."
"So what does he want with us?" Vyncent asked her.
"To sell us to those who do. At least, that he's told me."
Below, in the shop, they heard the front door open. A murmur of voices and footsteps followed.
"Sounds like their back," said Vyncent without emotion, "I hope he feeds us at least."
The girl said nothing to this.
The voices below, Vyncent soon realized, sounded nothing like Ebernathy. This voice was loud and rough, as opposed to Eberynathy's, which was thin and whiny. Soon enough, the stranger climbed the steps. Behind the solar's door, Vyncent could hear the man mumble to himself.
"… make a fool out of me … with my wife," the man said to himself, irritated as he fumbled with the knob's lock. He opened the door slowly, putting his right hand in first, of which held a small lantern. The man was fat and bald with a porcine face. Vyncent recognized him as the man who threatened and screamed at Ebernathy earlier in the day. "Eh? What do we have here?" He squinted at the pair. He examined their faces, given the moonlight coming in through the window and his lantern to work with.
"Yosef!" Another man from below shouted up from above, "did you find anything?"
"Keep your voice down, idiot," he told his partner as he climbed up the steps.
Yosef scratched his stubble as he looked at Vyncent's bindings. "I didn't know Elbert dealt with flesh," he pondered.
"Mayhaps we could tell Stag at the Birdhouse," his partner, a skinny fellow with a face covered with scars and popped pimples, "he'll pay us for the information, yes?"
Vyncent cut in. "Please," he begged, "free us, sir."
"Oh?" Yosef mused. "And why would I do that, eh?"
"Well," said Vyncent, "it would anger Ebernathy, wouldn't it?"
Yosef chuckled at this. "I suppose it would."
"You said we'd be quick," complained his partner as he went through every drawer he could find, "help me look, and let's get out of here."
"Shut up, Will," spat Yosef. He turned his attention to Vyncent and the girl. "We will leave the door open," he told the pair with a sly grin, " but don't bother looking for Elbert's gems. We've taken everything."
His partner Will had found more than just gems. Tied to his belt was Vyncent's sack of coins.
Yosef had already gone downstairs, but Vyncent called out to Will.
"Pardon me," said Vyncent, "those were stolen from me by Ebernathy."
Will snorted. "Truly?" He tossed the bag in the air and caught it. "Consider it ransom." Chuckling, he took off down the steps with the bag, glancing back at Vyncent to savor his anger.
"It will be fine," the silver-haired girl said quietly, sensing his ire, "I still have some coin on me."
Down on the first floor, Yosef made his dislike for Ebernathy more than obvious. One of his mates seemed to have smeared cattle dung across the walls, or at least Vyncent thought it was from a cattle. Statues, which used to have jewels set in them, were smashed, bereft of glamour. Tapestries were torn and stained with the same waste on the walls.
Fortunately, the burglars saw no value in Vyncent's clothes; the sack was behind a counter. They also left his dagger and long gun. He sliced his bindings against the edge to free himself and then helped the girl with hers. Best be out of here quickly, thought Vyncent as he took his belongings, otherwise, Ebernathy will come back, see what's been done, and blame us.
The silver-haired girl, ignoring Yosef's words, searched the shop.
"My lady," uttered Vyncent to his fellow fugitive, "I don't think there is anything left."
"What Ebernathy took from me," the girl said as she picked up a small wooden box, "isn't a jewel."
Vyncent peered over her and saw her reclaimed treasure. It was a skeletal leg of what could have belonged to a frog, a leather cord woven through it as to be worn as a necklace. The bone was purple decorated with veins of green.
"What a strange thing to have," said Vyncent. At this, the girl looked abashed. "I don't mean any offense."
"Oh, I … " she couldn't seem to find the words to finish. "Should we go?" she asked instead. "If you are ready, I mean … "
Outside, the snow began to fall.
Vyncent saw no one but Old Wilca, wrapping herself in threadbare horse blankets as she tried to sleep on the stony floor.
"Where should we go?" he asked both himself and his companion, "It's too late to catch a ship."
"I don't know this city," the girl said, sheepishly, as if she expected Vyncent to be upset with her ignorance.
Vyncent pulled out his map of Lesser Vior. From the map, he saw it was a short walk from Ebernathy's jewelry to an inn.
Though it was but a little jaunt, it was quite unpleasant; the night had soured the city even more.
"Unhand me!" a man in a guard's uniform shouted as he was kicked down by three men, "You're under arrest. All of—" one of his attackers struck his mouth with his fist and silenced him.
The women of the night took coin and were rutted on in the middle of the street by their punters. One of them shouted obscenities at Vyncent, who caught him glancing as she worked. A man with a bottle in his grasp fell out of his window, landing on his back. He groaned for help, but only impish little children came out of the shadows to empty his pockets. About a mile away, a building was ablaze near the ports.
Vyncent heard his companion scream. He turned and saw a scrawny hand, pale and sickly, tugging at her.
"Get off!" he shouted, brandishing his dagger, "Leave her be."
The aggressor was neither thug nor thief; it was only a poor soul with a mind spoiled by spice.
"Please." The man who begged looked both young and old at the same time. His hair was thinning, and his teeth were rotting. "Please, please, please, sweet boy and girl," he said as he fell on his scraped and bleeding knees, shivering as the snow fell a little harder, "just a copper. One bloody copper. I need it for Sweet Leaf. Gods, I beg of you. I need to see her again. Just one bloody copper!"
Vyncent had no coin. The girl had, however. She reached into her smallclothes to free one of her silvers. But before she could give him anything, he snapped his head to his right at the shout of another man.
"Hold him," the caller shouted at Vyncent, "bastard owes me!"
The beggar fled, his creditor chasing after him with a cudgel.
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After suffering almost every vice the streets of Lesser Voir had to offer, they finally made it to the inn. The Well of Blood, the place was called.
"Let's hope it's different indoors," said Vyncent out loud, who felt like a fool as he said it.
ns 172.69.58.203da2
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