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A meat vendor in bloody clothes walked toward him, a stick of metal in one hand.
He might think I done it. “I- I…”
Scab sprinted back to the Spring.
“What the fuck are you up to?” the smoking girl shouted as he passed her.
2
The stinking rags discarded, Silas sat on a rock draped in a thick fur poncho, his woollen trousers and leather boots protruding towards the fire. Hundreds of feet below, the rushing river filled the void between the towering mountains with its relentless noise. Only the occasional grunt from his chestnut horse, Vala, cut through it as she grazed along the path’s edge.
Silas gazed toward an endless blanket of stars, the grey eyes of the boy in the alleyway dominating his mind. The witness he should have killed along with Tibbit. Eyes from the old demon stories. Surely it can’t be?
Despite the so-called events of over two hundred, or even three hundred years ago, stories of demons would still crop up around fires or tavern tables. No matter where Silas went. As if those days of suffering were never to be forgotten. But as far as Silas was concerned, it was all made up to scare children.
He removed his leather gloves, reached out to the fire to warm his hands, then drew his blade from its scabbard. Its surface caught the moonlight as he studied it, then used the tip to knock off pieces of dirt from his boots. Should I take him to the Shadows? How would I suggest it to him?
Silas wanted to help. The boy reminded him of himself at that age. He’s probably living day by day in that shit hole while everyone else around him tries to steal what little he can get his filthy hands on. He couldn’t remember what the assassin had said to persuade him to leave Daal for the Shadow Castle all those years ago, only that it hadn’t taken much. Can’t just offer him food and shelter. He’ll think I’m a slaver.
He returned the blade, rose to arch his back, and let out a soft growl. “Vala.”
The horse approached, dipping her head as she arrived. The fire reflected in her eye as he stroked her neck. “Back to Talon, girl. It’s time I passed on the favour.”
It took an hour to descend the slate path and reach the edge of the forest. A vast area of scorched farmland stretched out in front of him, the walls of Talon in the distance. The high-walled wooden Wane compound protruded from the northern wall. Approaching this way offered the best chance to slip into Talon; guards were rarely seen anywhere near the Wane compound or North Spring. Doing so at night meant the guard towers shouldn’t spot him.
He let out a long sigh. Am I wasting my time? The Shadows have not asked me to bring him. What if they don’t have the space? He had no idea how many children the Shadows trained at a time. I’m wasting time sitting here, that’s for certain.
He dismounted Vala, tied her to a tree, threw his poncho over her, and removed a dirty linen outfit from a saddlebag. After changing, Silas patted Vala’s neck. “Won’t be long, girl.” I hope.
Within a stone’s throw of the right-hand corner of the compound, he stopped. He could still turn back if he wanted to and forget about the whole thing. How many orphans had he seen over the years? What was it that made this one any different? Only the eyes? He couldn’t explain it to himself, something drew him to this boy, and he had no idea what.
He took a deep breath and pulled his shirt up over his nose. I’ve come this far. Best see it through.
As he reached the compound wall, he met the stench of death and decay from the mass grave beyond. His stomach churned, and tears formed as he tried not to breathe in the sourness. No matter how many times he walked the stretch, the half-mile felt like six.
At around halfway, the groaning of the diseased inside met his ears. People slowly dying while the higher class tried to find a cure. After decades of disease, Silas didn’t think they’d ever find it. Fucking place. Why not put them out of their misery?
At the end of the compound, he removed several stones from the perimeter wall and crawled through the tunnel to enter the city. The hideous smell still permeated the air, but lesser so at the city end.
Several moaning, emaciated bodies leant against the front gates, arms hanging through the gaps. He passed them with a wide berth and entered North Spring.
The morning sun warmed Scab’s face as the corn cart he’d slept under rattled away.
“Go on, you.” A wrinkly old woman stood in the shack doorway with a broom.
“Any food, ma’am?” Scab said.
“Bugger off, go on.”
He hurried to his feet to avoid the jabs from the broom.
“You find somewhere else.” She stepped back to her doorway, looking worried after looking him in the eye. “Don’t you come back. You ’ear me?”
He ambled away, stuck with the slim pickings of the Spring. He couldn’t return to the vendor district. If that bloke sees me again, he’ll tell the guards I killed that Wretch, and they’d believe him.
Hours passed, and he hadn’t found a scrap. His stomach had a sharp pain inside it, and he regularly stopped to sit down to rest. The first of the farm carts would return through the east gate soon, but there’d be loads
of competition. Crowds surrounded the carts to beg and wait for loose goods to fall out as they bounced along the track.
