Chapter 2 #3
“Bonnets on the toads did find that muck and mire refuse to shine.”
I looked up from my page to find Malachi staring at me, his eyes wide as if pleading with me to understand.
He was younger than I expected, his face still round with youth despite the clear signs of exhaustion.
His dark hair was stringy and unwashed and hung in his pale face like strands of twine, and his clothes were simple garments of Hallowed blue.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, shaking my head. “I don’t understand.”
“The crow knows naught what the cat has caught,” he repeated the same line from before, enunciating each word as if he were speaking to a child.
“Yes, we heard you the first time,” Cirian replied, patting the man’s shoulder.
“Does he often repeat the same phrases?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Cirian answered. “It all sounds like childish gibberish to me, so I don’t listen that closely.”
“But if he’s repeating himself, that proves he’s trying to communicate something. And if I had to guess, it’s something gravely important.”
“The crow knows naught!” Malachi interjected, bits of spittle flying from my mouth. He reeled around in the chair, grabbing the notebook and holding it out to me. He pointed wildly at the mess of scribble lines. “The sunflower pot! The sunflower pot!”
I took the notebook from him, flipping through the pages as Cirian muttered calming words to the man.
The black lines were swirling chaos on the page, shapes stacked atop one another in circular patterns that made no sense at first glance.
But the longer I stared into the chaos of lines, the more I saw in the spaces between.
Glancing across the room, I spotted a small mirror hanging on the stone wall, framed in gold. I hurried over to it, holding the page in front of me and quickly adjusting the angle. As I found the right vantage, a jolt of electricity shot up my spine.
“Cirian,” I called to him, blinking a few times to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. “Look here.”
He was by my side in a flash, leaning close to get a glimpse in the mirror. “No way,” he breathed.
The lines weren’t just random. Malachi had been trying to get his message across, even through the magic that muddled his words and actions. Reversed in the mirror, the space between the lines reflected the image of a storefront, the lettering above the entrance distorted, but barely legible.
My breath caught in my throat. I must have been mistaken.
“What is it?” Cirian asked, moving to my side as his brow twisted with concern.
I gestured to the mirror. “It’s the café where I used to work. Down on the Mortal Row.”
Before I could speak further, Malachi was there between us, pointing wildly at the reflection in the mirror, then turning those intelligent eyes on us both.
“What’s so important about this place?” Cirian asked.
“Was this where Malachi found the Coverts before he was addled? Did they meet at the café?”
Cirian shook his head. “No, they were under a bakery, if I remember correctly.”
“Maybe this is where they plan to meet next. You said that the Converts never meet in the same place twice, yes?”
“The cat has caught!” Malachi chimed in.
“I think he agrees,” I said, looking back at Cirian. “What do you say? Should we pay this place a visit—”
Malachi latched onto my arm, pulling me to him with surprising strength.
“Bunny falls down and down, but there is no light beneath. Mouse knows the play. Mouse knows the play, and bunny wins the day.”
Cirian placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, his grip on me loosening slightly. “Peace, friend. We’ll find a way to help you. I promise.”
“Mouse knows the play,” Malachi said again, his voice breaking. His eyes watered as he stared, unblinking. His arms trembled as he clung to me. “Mouse. Knows.”
“I think… I think he wants to come with us,” I said to Cirian.
Malachi released me, his feet stamping on the ground in quick succession.
Cirian frowned. “You can’t be serious. He hardly escaped with his life, and you want to take him back there?”
“He knows who did this to him, Cirian. If he can identify them, it makes our job that much easier. And who’s to say this individual isn’t the one we’re looking for to begin with?
Surely someone wielding magic strong enough to do this to a man could also hold the answers we need.
And I know the space. There was a basement underneath the café where we’d store dry goods.
It was large enough to hold at least a few dozen people. Maybe more.”
Cirian exhaled. “Sancha isn’t going to like this.”
“It’ll be our little secret then. Isn’t that right, Malachi?”
“The crow eats shit!”
Cirian snorted a laugh. “At least we’ll be entertained before we die.”
“Then it’s settled. We go tonight.”
“Tonight? It’s already almost midnight.”
“If you have better places to be, Cirian, by all means. Malachi and I will make do without you.”
Cirian leveled his gaze at me. “You heard the Cardinal. Where you go, I go.”
“Then it’s settled. Malachi, fetch your coat. We’re going out.”