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Chapter Six
Fin
He and Hollis wove their way through the crowd, sidestepping and dodging people who stood in the middle of the narrow roads and were oblivious to anybody or anything but themselves. The more he was jostled and bumped into, the more irritated he was getting.
“The next person who bumps intae me is goin’ tae get me boot up their backside,” Fin growled.
“I daenae ken that was what Col meant when he said tae be discrete,” Hollis said.
Fin chuckled. “If he wanted somebody tae be discrete, he shouldnae’ve sent me.”
“That’s true.”
They threaded their way through the crowds, turning down sidestreets and cutting through alleyways. The town around Castle York had grown quite a bit over the past few years with people moving in and setting up shop. Once thought of as England’s last line of defense against the evil Scots in the north, York was fast becoming one of the country’s more important economic centers.
Unfortunately, at least from Fin’s perspective, that meant more people. Which meant larger crowds, more garbage, more filth, and as they cut through one more alleyway, more stink. Fin wrinkled his nose at the offensive odor and exchanged a look with Hollis.
“Smells like somethin’ died down here,” Fin said.
“I ken somethin’ that died would smell a whole lot better.”
They emerged from the alley into a small square surrounded on all sides by two-story buildings. The crowd was thinner, but people still bustled in and out of the shops. Fin looked around and found the shop he was looking for. He led Hollis over and pushed through the door into the apothecary’s shop.
The air inside was saturated with a hundred different aromas. Herbs, spices, and a slew of different fragrances filled the air. It was cloying to the point of being overpowering, but it resurrected fond memories of his childhood. Of his mother. He looked over at Hollis, who gave him a lopsided grin.
“I’m goin’ tae wait outside if ye daenae mind,” he said. “I daenae think ye’re in any danger in here.”
Fin chuckled. “Is that what ye ken yer doin, then? Protectin’ me backside?”
“Have been for years now.”
Fin scoffed. “Nay, I been the one watchin’ yers.”
“Whatever helps ye sleep at night, lad.”
They shared a laugh as Hollis turned and walked out of the shop, leaving Fin standing alone in the overwhelming scent of the place. Clearing his throat, he stepped to the back of the shop and found a comely middle-aged woman at a table. Her long, honey-blonde hair was tied back under a kerchief, but loose strands of it flapped free. She was tall and thin with ruddy colored cheeks and blue eyes. The woman was working with the mortar and pestle, grinding the leaves inside into a fine powder.
She looked up at him and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She stood up and stretched her back, giving him a small but warm smile.
“Afternoon,” she said. “How can I help ya?”
Fin pursed his lips as he thought about how to best approach the topic. He was reluctant to reveal too much right away, just in case she was involved. But he knew he needed to tell her something to get her talking. As he tried to find the words, he again silently cursed Col for saddling him with this task. He was at his best with a blade in his hand and was not the sort who could delicately question somebody. And Fin thought his cousin, of all people, should have known that.
“Good day,” Fin started. “I was hopin’ I could ask ye a few questions.”
The woman grinned. “Depends on the questions,” she said. “And depends on who you are.”
Fin chuckled and tugged on his beard. “Me name’s Fin,” he said. “I’m here on the business of the Baron of the West March and the Duke of York.”
The woman grinned and gave him an expression of faux amusement. “Well, look at you then,” she said. “What is a fancy man like you doing mixing with we mere peasants?”
“I’m hardly a fancy man,” Fin laughed softly. “I’m more peasant than I am a fancy man.”
“Couldn’t tell by lookin’ at that fine cloak of yours.”
She was teasing him, and Fin laughed. She was disarmingly charming and, with just a few jests, had knocked him off the bare track of questions he had laid out for himself. The paranoid part of his mind wondered if she was intentionally trying to divert his attention and knock him off his footing with her charm.
“Okay, fancy man, ask your questions,” she said.
