Why had he decided to help her? Was it truly to face his past—to stop running, after so many years? Was it really simply to protect her? Desire was a finicky thing, as was the heart, not something to risk one's life for; it could change on a whim. And why had she sought him out? Just for help? He wanted something more concrete, more stable... but he knew the world too well to expect that.
He had heard the legends of the Dark God, of the weapons, of the War. He knew a few things about the Cat's Eye too... but he did not how to survive a broken bond. Was Sora ready to die for this cause? No, of course not, he could already see that. Sora had no idea why she was here, why she had been called upon to stop the plague. She had chased after him on instinct, just as she had tried to run away from her manor. She didn't fully understand her own reasons... but perhaps the Cat's Eye did. Perhaps, the necklace could read its bearer better than he could, straight through the fine mist of circumstance, know her heart as surely as a seer knew the stars. It was the Cat's Eye who had brought her here, after all. The Cat's Eye—and all of the souls inside it.
He sighed, then drowned out the ambient noise with his ale. Whatever Sora's intentions, he was thankful for her help. He had to admit that to himself. He had lied back at the weapons shop, in the heat of their argument. He did need her. He couldn't defeat Volcrian alone; neither of them could. The mage's wrath had grown into something far greater than himself that couldn't be killed with a sword.
These thoughts were making him sick, or perhaps it was the strong drink. Crash set down his mug and stood up. Although he seldom slept, he was weary of sitting in the main room. He had spent all evening on the lookout, his eyes combing every corner, but no one appeared to be following him. He still felt the terrible sense of being watched, though.
Maybe upstairs, alone, he'd find some peace of mind.
Chapter 13
Sora had her hair tied up at the back of her neck and a basket of laundry under one arm. It wasn't really a job, but the lady at the clothing shop had given her a few coins to run a basket of silk to the dyer. After a morning of going from stall to stall offering her services, it was the only paying task she had found.
She had awakened early to Crash and Burn conversing in the common room of their apartment. Burn had left shortly afterward to sell the horses. Sora had made sure that her mother's horse was not to be sold; instead, she told Burn to release the mare into the fields and let her find her way home. She was confident that the horse would return directly to her mother. She had even attached a lengthy note to the horse, describing their adventure so far, what the Priestess had told her and where they were heading. The men had given her strange looks, but no one protested. They understood that it was quite a special horse, and well-trained—by a Healer, at that.
Laina joined them later at breakfast and then left with Burn. She seemed very attached to the Wolfy; Sora figured it was due to his fatherly nature. Then Crash went to find work unloading cargo from the ships. She hadn't seen any sign of her companions since.
Sora looked up at the sky and squinted. It was early afternoon and the sun was at its highest peak, though cooled by a strong breeze from the ocean. She slipped between alleys and dodged through traffic, making her way as quickly as possible to the dyer's shop, occasionally asking for directions. The accents on the dock were thick and foreign, difficult to discern at times. She had gotten turned around more than once. Crowds passed her on every side, jostling and yelling; everyone seemed to be in a rush, haggling over fish or running back and forth with packages.
She finally found her way to the docks and spotted the dyer's shop almost immediately. It was on a busy street corner surrounded by large crates; there appeared to be a shipment in progress. She could smell the dye from where she stood, and the surrounding cobblestones were stained different colors from years of spillage.
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and watched the sailors lingering around the door; they were big, bulky men wearing bandanas and vests. One of them, particularly large and gruesome, leered back at her. Sora stiffened and averted her eyes. She didn't need any trouble, for sure.
After only a slight hesitation, she walked boldly into the mass of men, trying to appear confident and aloof. Several voices called out to her, but she pushed her way through until they finally stepped aside.
Now she was faced with a new problem. Her hands were full, as she was carrying the basket of silk, but she had to open the door. She balanced the basket against her hip and tried to work the heavy handle. It seemed to be stuck.
A tanned arm, tight with muscle, reached past her shoulder and took the handle. Sora watched muscles bunch beneath his skin as a man's hand turned the knob. He pushed the door open for her.
"Thanks," she said, and half-turned to smile at whoever had helped her. There was too little room to turn fully, but she caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his forearm, a dagger with a snake wrapped around it. Her smile froze on her face, and she quickly stepped inside the steamy room to set down her bundle of cloth.
When she exited the building, her eyes landed on Crash, who was waiting outside for her, half- hidden by the shade of the building. She had suspected it was him, though she had only seen the tattoo once before—on their last adventure. She looked him over quickly as she approached him. He stood casually, his sleeves were rolled up. It had been a long time since she had seen his arms, and she couldn't help but stare at the well-shaped biceps. Why had she never noticed them before? She studied his tattoo again, partway up his forearm. The ink looked faded and old.
He was leaning up against the wall of the building. She stood next to him, also relaxing against the cool stone.
"So what have you been doing?" she asked, and reached up to undo her hair.
"Leave it up," Crash requested. She noticed that his own hair was wet and slick with sweat. It clung to his forehead in a black wave. She kind of liked it that way.
They stared at each other a moment; then he cleared his throat and continued, "I was chaining up cargo on one of the ships and asking around for passage to the Isles. It turns out there are no ships heading that way; the last one sailed almost five years ago and never returned. They say the waters are cursed with storms."
Sora looked up at him in worry. “So what do we do? We have no way of getting a ship!” she said.
"Not necessarily," he shrugged. "We just have to wait for an opportunity. We can find a captain that's willing to go. We'll just need a little extra money to put him on the job."
Translation: a bribe. Sora grinned wryly. "Oh, I see," she said, and looked the assassin up and down. "So how much have you made so far?"
Crash sighed and rubbed the back of his tanned neck. "Not a lot," he admitted. "And I doubt Laina and Burn are having that much luck."
"I'll be making five silvers at the end of today," she said, then flagged under Crash's gaze. It truly wasn't a lot of money. There were ten coppers to a silver, and fifty silvers to a gold. A ship would cost several gold.
"At least you're doing something useful. I doubt Laina will have anything by the end of the day.” Crash's voice trailed off darkly.
Sora sighed, wishing he wouldn't be so gloomy. Laina was only thirteen, maybe fourteen at best. What did he expect? "Come now, she's not so bad, the girl has to be good at something," she joked.
He snorted. “Picking pockets, maybe.”
“And you haven't done worse?” she retorted.
"Hey! You! Stop right there!" The voice was so loud, it made Sora jump. She and Crash turned as one. The shouting continued up the street. “Halt! Surrender, in the name of the King!”
Two figures sped past who looked an awful lot like Laina and Burn. They were followed by a group of red-haired young men and women, all shouting and laughing, the city guards hot on their heels.
Sora watched them dash by in surprise. Then she realized her hand was in Crash's and he was pulling her after them. The two raced after the fugitives, their feet slamming on the cobblestones, and almost
too soon they caught up with them. Sora broke away from Crash and slipped her way through the pack of redheads, until she was sprinting along next to Burn.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" she panted.
The Wolfy looked down at her in pleasant surprise. "Why, Sora! So good to see you!" he grinned.
She narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't explain much," she replied.
Burn laughed between breaths. "Well, these fellows were interested in buying our supplies," he started off, and Sora looked around at the redheaded troupe. Their whoops and yells were almost deafening. "Turns out their money had a previous owner... bunch of thieves, the lot of them! And now we're all on the run!"
"Great fun, aye?" called a particularly short, redheaded man. He was scrambling to keep up, though he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. She frowned, then turned back to Burn.
"Where did they come from?" she asked.
"I haven't the slightest idea. It started with just one of them, and then more kept joining the group as we ran...."
"Ahoy up there!" a voice shouted from behind. "Turn into the next alley!"
Burn abruptly threw himself into a small passageway, taking Sora off-guard. She scrambled to change direction, but was assisted by Crash's hand on her arm. He came up behind her and shoved her into the shadows. "Get behind those crates!" he ordered.
Sora tumbled down to the dirty ground, then scrambled behind a pile of large boxes. Laina was already there, her pale cheeks touched with pink. "This is bloody fun!" she panted.
Sora put her head in her hands and groaned. Can't I stay out of trouble for one day?
She looked up and across the small alley. Burn was crouched behind a pile of discarded posts. "What now?" she mouthed, not wanting to make noise in case she attracted the wrong people. He shrugged at her, then grinned. Someone shifted, and Sora glanced over to see Crash crouched nearby. His green eyes glinted with amusement. Was he having... fun?
Then she realized she felt giddy and light. For some reason, she wasn't truly worried at all. It was like they were playing a children's game: guards and robbers, or hide and seek.
A figure abruptly dropped down next to her, and Sora almost screamed. A hand went over her mouth, and then a gentle, rolling voice said, "There now, lady. Easy does it."
A giant crow fluttered down, hovering on one of the boxes, shuffling its wings. Sora's eyes focused on the new redhead. She recognized him immediately, noting that he still wore that brown hat. He smiled easily, then slowly drew his hand away. A merry blue-green eye winked at her. "Enjoying the city, I hope?"
Sora was speechless for a moment, then couldn't help smiling. "Very much, thank you."
"Very good!" he said, then tipped his head in a mock bow. “My name is Jacques, and I will be your tour guide this afternoon.” He turned to her companions. "Now, you lot, listen up. This mess is our fault, so we're gonna help. We need t'move to the rooftops before those idiots stumble 'cross our hiding spot." He motioned to the roofs above them. "We're all ready for you."
Sora looked up and saw two faces peering down at her. She recognized one as the short man who had run next to her.
"André!" her escort called. The smaller man atop the roof nodded. "Here comes the first one!"
Abruptly, Sora was grabbed and hefted aloft, then pulled up by another pair of hands from above. She squeaked in surprise as she was dragged over the gutter and onto the slippery roof tiles. Her view changed from the enclosed alley to the open air and sky. When she stood up, she could see an endless series of rooftops stretching out around her, of all different colors and makes.
André reached for the next person.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Sora turned to find a woman next to her.
"Don't make too much noise," she said in a low, husky voice. Sora took in the woman's long, brick- red locks. She had a strange, angular face with jutting cheekbones and slanted, almond eyes; beautiful, but sharp.
There was a thump, and Laina appeared on the other side of her. "My, I don't think I've ever had so much fun in one day!" the young thief giggled.
The woman turned to smile at her. "For us, every day is like this," she chuckled softly.
Laina beamed at the woman.
The sound of Burn's voice drew Sora's attention. She turned to find the giant Wolfy now on the roof, sitting opposite to her, chatting away with André. What are these people again? Dracians? They seem so human! She stared at André for a moment, trying to get some hint of his true race, but besides the brilliant red hair and jewel-like eyes, he looked normal.
Suddenly, there was a pattering of feet on the main street below; a group of soldiers went past. "Do you see them?" one yelled.
"Nowhere," another responded. “Let's check up that way.”
Sora's heart pounded. Would the guards discover their hiding place? The energy of the Dracians was contagious; she felt drugged, dizzy and elated.
"They were right around here," the first soldier said. "I could have sworn I saw them."
"Yeah, I did too. Let's have a closer look around."
André stuffed a fist in his mouth, on the verge of laughter. Sora glanced over and saw Laina doing much the same. Crash crouched on the other side of them, moving silently across the roof. She didn't remember seeing him climb up.
Jacques approached her, and she recognized the large crow again. "'Tisn't quite what you expected, is it?” the man said, hunching next to her. He spoke softly, below the wind. "We've lived in this city our entire lives, and the guards know us well. This is routine for them. I don't believe I caught your name....?"
"Ah... Sora," she muttered.
Jacques smiled cheerily and shook her hand. "Quite brilliant to meet you, Sora, and don't mind me asking, but... are you traveling with a Wolfy?" he breathed.
Sora glanced at Burn and nodded.
A second later, Jacques was at Burn's side, shaking the mercenary's hand as if he were the King himself. “Nice, Wolfy, well met!" he gushed. "Why, if I had known I'd be meeting your kind today, I'd have done something with my hair! Jacques is the name, jesting's the game!"
Burn stared at the Dracian with a bemused expression. "Burn is the name," he replied. "Leaving with my hand intact is also very important to me."
The Dracian abruptly dropped Burn's hand with a small laugh. Sora watched the two in amusement, but was shaken from her thoughts as a voice called out from below.
"I know you're up there, Jacques! I can smell your wretched blood!"
The crow let out an affronted squawk. Jacques turned away from Burn, cocked his head and put a hand behind his ear. "And what is that I hear?" he said, intentionally loud. "Why, is that the native cry of the Captain of the Guard?" He leapt up to the very peak of the roof, then looked down and yelled, "Hey! Stewie! Up here!"
"That's Captain Stewart to you, you filthy dog!" the voice yelled back angrily.
"Did you forget to shave this morning?” Jacques called back. "Isn't that against regulations?”
“Archers! Take your mark!” the man roared in outrage.
“Uh-oh.” Jacques fell flat on the roof just as two arrows shot by his head. He rolled over to look at the Dracians. “That's our cue to leave. Joan? Get everyone out of here. Take them to the hideout. Come on, let's go!"
Sora found herself being pulled to her feet by Burn. The Wolfy smiled down at her. "Dracians—they're a good sort," he confided.
Jacques' voice carried above the rising wind and the shouts from the soldiers. "André? Where are you? Ah, there we are, give me that smoke bomb you've been saving."
Jacques took a small black ball from the shorter Dracian and turned to the rest of them. "They've made the most wonderful invention in the kingdom across the sea. It's called gunpowder, and it makes quite satisfactory explosions. Watch this!" The Dracian scuttled down to the edge of the roof. He was quite dexterous on the slick tiles. "Hey! Stewie!" he yelled, and leapt to his feet. "Catch!"
Sora watched in fascination as h
e hurled the ball to the ground. There was a moment's silence, then the street below erupted into a clatter of shouts and curses. Someone grabbed her arm, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself leaping across the rooftops. Then a small explosion rumbled through her chest—fuuuummmph! Tiles trembled beneath her, windows rattling in their frames. Thick smoke billowed up into the sky, but she kept moving.
Sora had never run on rooftops before; it reminded her of the pole exercises her mother had made her practice. She used her staff to help her vault across alleys, but most of the buildings were so close together that she had little trouble. It helped that the houses were all of similar height and make. Her biggest challenge was keeping her footing on the roof tiles, which were slick and slippery from the constant moisture.
Jacques caught up with them quickly and ran next to her, his crow gliding above their heads. She looked over at him. "Don't you ever worry you'll hurt someone?" she panted.
He looked at her, then over his shoulder, where the smoke was quickly dispersing in the breeze.
"Naw," he finally said, and gave her a roguish smile. "The soldiers can take care of themselves. It's all in good fun!"
But an explosion like that could have cost someone a leg, she thought. Sora got the sudden feeling that she was surrounded by a pack of rowdy teenagers. Although the Dracians appeared to be well into their twenties and thirties, their eyes held a childish, carefree twinkle. She wasn't sure if she liked that.
After several more minutes, the group started to slow down. They paused on a pyramid-shaped wooden roof, layered with wooden shingles. A large window in the ceiling served as a skylight. As they arrived, it opened inward and three of the Dracians, André and two other males, slipped through. Next in was Laina, who looked exhilarated, then Burn. As the Wolfy passed her, he whispered, "Reminds me of my younger days."
Sora glanced around the rooftops one last time. She had no idea where they were; the city sprawled out on each side, a jungle of smoking chimneys, metal ladders and jutting towers. With a slight shrug, she dropped down through the skylight.