Chapter 5 #2
Tal nodded. Helping those like Evania and Janin had been the plan all along, but not in this way.
They were supposed to funnel money from Pochette’s businesses back to the poor.
They were supposed to keep the gangs out of the docks.
Taking children into their care asked too much.
The docks held enough orphans to fill the tunnels to the brim and with not enough people able to care for them.
If they took in one, how could they say no to the rest?
And what kind of life could she give them?
Dishonesty, danger, and violence found them at every turn, even with the absence of Pochette’s men.
Would it be fair to pull two children into that kind of life?
And were her friends responsible enough to care for two children?
What would they do when they had to leave for a bounty?
Would someone have to stay behind to watch the kids? She surely couldn’t bring them along.
Talwyn sighed. For now, the children were safe, and they had more reason to keep them in the tunnels than to send them away.
She put a hand on Egan’s shoulder. “They’ll stay for now until we find them a better home. Rain is resting tonight. The children won’t be alone. Come on. We have a maroon swordsman to find.”
Sybil stayed in the tunnels, claiming she had an irresponsible redhead to have visions about, but Carrick refused to stay back.
So, Talwyn, Carrick, and Egan took to the streets.
They chose to buy a pint at Gale’s Tavern first. It stood far enough away from the entrance to their particular set of tunnels, and their well-dressed target would expect them to slum with a rowdier crowd.
“He probably thinks we’re scoundrels,” Talwyn said.
Gale’s always guaranteed a good time. The owner, Gale, a woman with enough muscle to give Carrick a fair fight, communicated with her patrons through the use of force, and often destroyed her own furniture to do it.
On any given night, they would be sure to see at least two brawls, one person leaving with a black eye, another missing a tooth, and patrons often hoped to receive the honor of being literally tossed out the door by the burly woman.
Tal always chose Gale’s to let off steam.
But it wasn’t the place to find their swordsman.
They tried two other taverns, having a pint or two at each, until they decided on a better tactic.
Grabbing a few things to go, they took to the rooftops, positioning themselves so that together, they could see the entrances to four taverns.
Talwyn tipped her pint six buildings to the north to Carrick.
He held a bit of bread up by way of greeting and then waved west to Egan, sitting cross legged and feeding a black bird that joined his perch.
Talwyn leaned back on one elbow, one leg bent underneath the other.
Stars dotted the night sky, and she beamed at them.
A warm breeze blew her hood back, revealing her greased hair.
Out of dye, Sybil had given her a handful of black tar to spread on her fiery locks.
Somehow, over the last two days, the brown color had completely leached from her hair and her own natural red burned with all its glory.
She would have to wear her hood up until she could confront the alchemist.
She gulped more ale, dropped the nearly full cup, sloshing some over the rim, and fell onto her back.
She would likely fall off the roof before she found her target.
Carrick would have a hell of a time getting her down.
A carefree laugh escaped her lips at the thought.
Carrick, her constant, her savior, always worried about her safety more than she did.
She wasn’t ready to give him up, but one day, she hoped he could go his own way, if he ever chose to, and wouldn’t feel guilt at leaving her behind.
Unlike Tal, Carrick wasn’t meant for life on the docks. Maybe she could convince him to go to the mountains, perhaps take the children. He could build a life there, and Tal would visit to share stories of how they ruled the slums. She could even help the poor blunderhead find a wife.
Tal imagined Carrick charming some poor soul, stumbling over his words, his big frame always getting in the way. She lost herself to a belly laugh at her poor friend’s expense, even if he didn’t know it.
“How could such a fierce fighter giggle like an innocent child?”
Talwyn shot to her feet and swayed. She swore as she stumbled, and a hand caught her by the elbow.
“Careful there!” He steadied her.
Talwyn fumbled for her knives, but her damned fingers slipped over the handle.
The intruder grabbed her wrist and chuckled.
The red swordsman, Faron, bowed his head in greeting, and she scowled.
He had no mask, and his hood remained back to reveal his face in the moonlight.
Hells, he was handsome, too handsome for his own good, and he knew it.
His jawline could cut glass, and his eyes drew her in with their ridiculously long lashes.
Her drunken state muddled the green of his irises in the moonlight, but she could see the stars reflected in them.
She tried to tell herself it was the ale, but she didn’t want to look away.
“What a poor lookout you are, drunk and stumbling nearly to your death.” He laughed. “Were you planning to sleep off the ale up here?”
“Well,” she slurred and wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “You want me? Here I am.” With a flourish, she spread her arms wide and not-so-graciously fell to her backside.
“Alive and well, I see.” He sat beside her and took a piece of bread off her plate, earning himself another scowl. “Glad to see your ailment left that beautiful frown untouched.”
“What are you talking about?” She ripped the bread out of his hand before it reached his lips and tore a bite off with her teeth.
Faron let his mouth hang open as if waiting for the bread, then curled his lips into a mischievous smile. If possible, it made him even more handsome. He rested his forearm on his knee and turned his head to her. “You know, I’m sore in places I never thought possible thanks to you.”
“That is entirely too much information. What you do in the confines of your bedroom has nothing to do with me,” she drawled. She needed water. Instead, she shoved more bread into her mouth and nearly choked on the dry grain.
Faron howled with laughter. “Oh, you have a foul mouth, don’t you? Is that the thanks I get for carrying you, sopping wet, through sewage for hours? I could have left you in the river, you know.”
She swallowed with difficulty. “Why didn’t you?”
He dropped the humor from his features. “Why would I?” He met her stare, blinking.
Tal’s eyes wandered to his lips. She licked her own and smirked when his gaze flicked to the movement.
His answering grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and he grabbed meat off the plate. He lay back and turned his face toward the sky, an arm under his head. “I’m glad to see you are well. And your companions? The girl?”
“They’ll live,” she replied, searching the rooftops for Carrick and Egan. She expected them to join shortly.
“I’ve heard the stories of how elementals had built the city, how Furies ran the incinerator endlessly, and Hydras would send waves of water taller than me through the tunnels. Until that night, I’d never seen those places for myself.”
“Yeah, well they’re long gone now, so it’s all left to ruin.”
His leather suit creaked when he rolled onto his side and propped his head onto his hand. “I never asked, but how did you manage to block the door?”
Tal hiccupped. She scowled, warning her companion not to react. The distraction allowed her sluggish mind a moment to think of a lie. “A bonding paste.”
He nodded, not questioning her any further. “And here I thought you held it by sheer strength. Lucky you had the chemical on you.” He rolled to his back. His chest heaved as he sighed. “I’m Faron, by the way.”
“I’ve heard.”
“I believe this is the part where you offer your name.”
“And I believe you’re wrong,” she said tartly.
“You’re not easy to talk to, are you? I thought it was a fighting thing. You know, too busy to make conversation while saving the world. But you’re still tight-lipped as ever.” He sighed and sat up. “Thank you for coming to my aid.” His tone had lost its humor.
Talwyn bit her lip, holding back a snide remark. “We went for the girl. There wouldn’t have been so much trouble if you hadn’t interfered. What were you thinking going in alone?”
He hesitated. “I was trying to help.”
“Yes, well, running into danger alone like that is the best way to end up floating down the river.”
A head popped up by Tal’s feet. “Yeah, Tal. Maybe you should heed your own advice.” Her young friend turned to Faron. “The name’s Egan.” He smirked and hoisted himself up onto the roof, followed by Carrick who placed a pitcher of water on the eave before pulling himself up too.
Tal grabbed for Egan’s feet, and he danced out of the way. “Ale is making you brave, little devil. I think I like you better sober and content to worship the ground I stand on.” She accepted the pitcher from Carrick and gulped greedily, avoiding Egan as he tried to nudge her shoulder.
“My new friends.” Faron nodded. Egan mirrored the greeting, but Carrick, who had likely been the one to pull Tal’s unconscious form from Faron’s arms, merely pursed his lips.
“How lovely to find you here.” He grabbed Talwyn’s pint of ale from earlier and sipped greedily, earning a cold stare from Tal.
“Now that I see you’re all well, I’d like to chat. ”
Talwyn’s drunken snort was the trio’s only response.
He continued, “I’d like to know about these apparitions you mentioned, and the mages.”
“What of them?” Carrick asked, still standing. He didn’t seem too pleased to be talking to the swordsman.
“What do you know about them?” he asked.