“No. I don’t want you picking pockets. It is not a solution.” Daezin said for the second time in the last ten minutes.
“Sis, without the fortunetelling, our income is shot. At this point, we don't have any information to sell. And no leads on anything new." Hefler sighed. "I’ve already cancelled the new coat of paint. We need to give up one of the rooms, cut back on your special teas and pastries if we want to make it through the next month." He shrugged. "Maybe a windfall will land in our laps if we put our ears to the ground. Someone somewhere has to be up to something that someone else will pay for. Or someone is desperate to pay to keep things quiet. But we can’t count on it. Not right now.” He grasped her hand and squeezed. “I know it won’t solve everything, but it will help and it's something I know how to do. It can help us get by. Maybe buy you a pastry on a cold windy day.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half-grin.
Daezin let go of his hand. “No. It’s too risky. I’ll think of something else. No pick pocketing. Understand?”
“Sure.” Hefler didn’t look happy with the decision, but he’d live with it.
Daezin stood, gathered her things and threw her cloak on. “Money won’t make itself, so I am out to see what I can see, hear what I can hear. You’ll be all right?”
Hefler nodded and she left.
Fatigue weighed down her limbs, but the threat of starvation was goad enough to get her out the door and on the watch for opportunities to make an extra coin.
Daezin spent the bulk of the day haunting the open-air market. People from in and around town mixed with people from overseas in a soup of shouts, smells, and the clink of coins changing hands. And beneath it all were those who preyed on the crowds and the unwary.
Including me.
Daezin eavesdropped. She cheated. She scammed. Daezin used every trick she’d learned in the seven years since she’d left home. It definitely wasn’t wise. Daezin had at least three more months here before the weather warmed enough to allow the two of them to safely move on. Daezin refused to look closer at her reasons for so many cons in such a relatively small time and space.
When the skies dimmed and the market stalls closed, it was time to leave. Next up were the taverns and gambling halls and Daezin even knew of a bearbaiting tonight. She cut through a series of alleys. She felt eyes on her back for the last hour and no matter how many times she checked the rear, Daezin saw no one. A circuitous route would either reveal the watcher or lose them. At this point, she didn’t much care which.
Daezin left the alley that ran behind a candlemaker's shop and turned on to one that wound between a bread maker and an ironmonger when a soft moan from behind the remains of a crate interrupted her thoughts.
A real cry for help or a trap? Daezin inched closer. Daezin saw his feet first, boots missing. Bloody scrapes on pale skin. Next his trousers and then the blood. There was blood everywhere. All down the front of his battered shirt. In pools on the ground where he slumped. She stared at Hefler’s pale face, and her eyes burned. Tears wouldn’t fall. Her limbs wouldn’t move. It was like being in the vision all over again. Only this time, this time it was real.
Warm hands settled on Daezin's shoulders and moved her aside. She watched while Aetran knelt on the ground next to Hefler and pressed fingers to his neck and checked his injuries. She wanted to yell at him, “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him. This is all your fault.” But the words wouldn’t come. They remained stuck in her throat. Daezin could only stare while the roar of a nonexistent waterfall filled her ears.
Hours or moments passed. It felt like the former but was probably the last. His feet gleamed all white skin, red bloody scrapes, and blue veins. Clean. His well-cared-for boots were gone. Hefler kept all of his clothing in good repair. While neither of them could sew, Hefler polished leather better than anyone else she knew, and he wasn’t forever finding new rips in his clothing like Daezin.
Hefler would need his boots when he woke up. Daezin dug through piles of debris in the alley determined to help. Determined to find them. "Where's his boots? Hefler is going to be so pissed that his boots are gone. I need to find them." A dull roaring filled her ears, a keening that she didn't recognize as coming from herself.
"Daezin!" Aetran's sharp tones brought her up short. He'd called more than once but she didn't want to hear him. Didn't want to hear him say that Hefler was dead.
Daezin sucked in a breath, and it rattled its way into her chest. She sucked in one more and this one went in much more smoothly. Daezin straightened her shoulders, clamped lips together, and turned around.
"I think we can move him now. Carefully. We'll stitch him up back at your rooms." Aetran moved to one side. "I'll need your help lifting him without tearing open his wound anymore."
Daezin blinked. "You mean he's still alive?" She swore her heart began to beat again in the moment when Aetran nodded.
Between the two of them, they were able to get Hefler off the street and into their rooms with little more damage. How they got through the streets and through the common room with no one stopping them Daezin would never know. In their rooms, Aetran proved that he knew how to use a needle and thread much better than either of them did.
When he was done he sat back against the wall on the floor and let his hands dangle over bent knees. "And now we wait."
