“No, not at all.” He squeezed her arm briefly in reassurance, and she smiled. “What sort of business?”
“Trading. It’s what I know from my time on the Loretta. In truth, I may need to find a job and earn some more ducats before I have enough. Rent in Anasoma isn’t cheap.”
They wound their way down a main street, Caldan directing them to Dockside in the general direction of Elpidia’s house. As they passed through the Barrows District the houses and shops grew less salubrious. Food stalls stretched along one side street teeming and noisy with an early evening crowd.
Joining the Highroad, the walk to Dockside still took some time, though the wide street allowed ample room for pedestrians, carts and overburdened donkeys. The city was so big. Caldan still couldn’t believe the size of it.
The transition into Dockside was noticeable. Where the large buildings and warehouses lining the docks themselves were in relatively good condition, further back and down the side streets worn and putrefying houses were in abundance. Stretched multi-story wooden buildings leaned over alleys, and makeshift walkways connected their roofs.
“Inside isn’t usually as bad as the outside,” Miranda remarked. “People don’t care about appearances, especially when they are renting. It’s inside where they take care the most.”
“What about the bridges?” Caldan pointed to a walkway spanning an alley.
“Another Highroad, in a manner of speaking. Sometimes it’s easier to go over the buildings than come down to the streets.”
“A thieves’ road?”
“Sometimes. Not everyone here is dishonest or a thief.”
“I know, I just… The place is confusing for me. I’m not used to it.”
Miranda patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry. It’ll grow on you.”
A while later, after a few wrong turns, and after asking for directions from a passing matron with four children in tow, they stood before Elpidia’s red door. Following his polite knock, Elpidia ushered them inside, frowning at Miranda, and gestured for Caldan to sit with ill-concealed impatience.
“Why are you back so soon?” she asked as Caldan settled into the chair with a creak. Elpidia frowned at the chair. “Don’t break it,” she said, then turned the knob of an oil lamp and its flame brightened, pushing back some of the shadows. She moved to her fireplace and struck a small stick against the stone. Light flared and she used the flame to ignite a stack of kindling on which sat two logs. A faint phosphorous odor penetrated the room.
“Now,” she said. “What’s the problem? Did…” She broke off and peered at his cheek. “What happened? Where did your bruises go?” She leant over Caldan, one hand turning his cheek to the light from the lamp. She brushed a finger over his scar. “Hmmm,” she murmured thoughtfully and stepped back.
The bruises have gone already? Either Elpidia was a miracle worker or something strange was happening. “I heal quickly,” he said. “And the herbs you gave me must have helped.”
“Those stitches need to come out. The cut has closed already. It’s much further along than usual for such a wound.”
“I told you,” Miranda chimed in.
“Wait here. I’ll need some instruments.” Elpidia disappeared behind the thick curtain into her back room.
Miranda leant against the side of the fireplace and held her hands out to the fire. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to do this,” she said longingly. “Fire on a ship isn’t a good idea. I didn’t realize I missed it so much.”
“The monks didn’t allow themselves any heating in winter,” he said without emotion. “They thought some sacrifices hardened the body and the mind. Of course, the paying students were allowed fires whenever they wanted.”
Miranda gave him a curious look then returned her gaze to the flickering flames. “They have to survive, the same as everyone else. You can’t blame them for choosing to teach what they are good at rather than fade into poverty. It’s helped them survive, and from what you have said they haven’t lost their identity.”
“True. Sometimes I wish I was back there.” Miranda gave him a prickly look he couldn’t interpret.
Elpidia returned carrying a bottle of colorless liquid, a cloth, a sharp knife and some tweezers. She dragged a low stool close to Caldan.
“Hold still,” she said in a flat professional tone. She dampened a corner of the cloth with the colorless liquid and wiped both the knife and tweezers.
Caldan felt sharp pains in his cheek as she pulled the stitches out enough to slip the knife under to cut them. With sharp jerks pulled out the thread. As the last one came free, she used the damp cloth to wipe the cut.
“Ow!” Caldan exclaimed as the alcohol stung his cheek.
“Don’t be a baby,” both Miranda and Elpidia said at once. Miranda laughed, while Elpidia only gave a tight smile. Caldan scowled at both of them.
Elpidia examined the scar as she continued to wipe his cheek with the cloth. “The wound looks well on the way to healing. I don’t know if it’s because you are young or my herbs are better than I thought, but it looks like there won’t be much of a scar soon.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully then gave a slight shake of her head. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. And I’m sure you both have something better to do than wait around here.”
Caldan stood and the chair let out another creak. “Thank you, Elpidia. For your help and time. I hope I won’t be back here soon.”
“I’m sure you mean that in a nice way,” Elpidia said.
“Um… yes. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I meant…”
Elpidia cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I know what you meant.”
Miranda moved from her position by the fireplace and headed for the front door. “Come on, Caldan, we need to be going,” she said.
“Thanks again, Elpidia. Farewell.”
Elpidia watched as they left through the door into the narrow cobbled street. Outside, the sun had disappeared behind the buildings to the west at the highest point of the city, and the street was noticeably darker. She slid a bolt home and a clicked a lock into place. Tapping a finger on her chin, she moved to stand over by the fire, holding her hands to the flames.
She mumbled to herself, starting when she realized she’d lost track of time and didn’t know how long she’d stood there.
She picked up the cloth used to wipe Caldan’s cheek and held it up to the lamp. Streaks of scarlet stained it: Caldan’s blood.
Would this man’s blood hold a secret she could unlock? she wondered. Could this be another avenue of experimentation? It seemed impossible, but she’d read some disturbing truths from books she shouldn’t have access to.
Elpidia used her knife to cut the bloodstained section of cloth from the larger piece. Carrying it in her palm, she entered her back room. There she placed the scrap carefully into a clean glass vial, poured a clear liquid from another bottle to cover the cloth and screwed a stopper on to secure the sample. She peered at the cloth in the vial, using the light of a lamp to illuminate it from behind. Slender trails of red leached from the cloth into the liquid, which turned a pinkish hue.
Seating herself beside the fire, she sat back and placed both legs on the low stool, still clutching the vial in her hand.
“Well,” remarked Miranda with a depreciating look at the door. “She wasn’t too friendly. For someone who makes her living helping sick people, you’d think she would smile more or make small talk.”
“Ease up on her, Miranda. She did good work on the stitching.” Caldan nudged her with his shoulder to soften his words.
Miranda sniffed. “I suppose she has to deal with a lot of ill and wounded people. It would probably make me unfeeling as well. Why don’t we have something to eat? Daylight’s fading now, and I’m famished.”
Caldan nodded in agreement before he could stop himself. Empty pockets meant he couldn’t afford to pay for a meal for himself, let alone for two, and the two copper ducats he should receive after his first week wasn’t a
fortune either. “Ah… I can’t. I… don’t know anywhere. I’ve been eating at the meal hall where I am now. And…well… I have to admit that all my coins were stolen a few days ago.” He hung his head in shame, not daring to look her in the eye.
“Everything?” asked Miranda in an incredulous tone. “Were you carrying it all with you? Didn’t you take what you needed and leave the rest safe in your room?”
“Yes, everything. I wasn’t thinking… It was stupid of me.” He found himself blushing again.
“All right, what about this idea? I’ll buy you dinner, but you have to promise to return the favor when you come into some coins. Deal?” She looked expectantly at Caldan, who thought for a moment.
“I guess so.” He didn’t like the idea of being in someone’s debt, but he liked Miranda, so the idea of another future dinner with her was enticing.
“Good.” She squeezed his arm again. “I know where to go, a place that’s clean and serves a good menu, if you like eel.”
“Eel?”
“Yes. You know, the wriggly kind.”
“Sounds… interesting.”
Miranda directed him down a side street using pressure on his arm to guide him. Earthenware products stretched the length of the road, spilling out doorways of shops still open, despite the late hour. A girl with ragged hair watched them pass from her position sitting atop a large urn, chewing what looked like shiny grasshoppers skewered on a stick.
Miranda sniggered at him and smacked her lips. “Roasted grasshoppers covered in honey. Crunchy and sweet.”
The girl looked to be enjoying them, but Caldan wasn’t convinced. “If you say so.”
“I do. Hang on.” Miranda stopped at a corner and peered down the cross street to the right. The pottery gave way to crowded food stalls, which lined the buildings on either side. Fragrant smoke drifted from low burning braziers cooking the various foods on offer.
“This is the place. Come on.” Miranda strode ahead down the middle of the street, shifting her hips to avoid the many people at the stalls. Caldan moved his eyes from Miranda to watch where he was going after he bumped into a thin man.
“My apologies, sir,” he mumbled. The man’s hand went to his purse, and finding it still secure gave a curt nod before moving on.
Caldan followed Miranda’s weaving outline but had difficulty negotiating the crowded street. She edged ahead, her slight figure allowing her to twist into spaces his bulk couldn’t. She glanced over her shoulder a few times to make sure he was following. He increased his pace, despite the crowd, and saw her stop in front of a building.
She smiled as he approached. “This is it,” she said, gesturing to an orange door. Above her, a sign declared the place as “Camild’s House of Eels” in bold black letters. “Best eels this side of the River Sop.” On it, two eels twined around each other above a frying pan.
They entered, and Miranda nodded to a serving boy, who smiled in recognition. She followed the boy through a doorway into a large low room filled with dark wooden booths, seats padded with cloth. A single lamp suspended over each table gave the place enough light to see by but still left it in semi-darkness.
As they sat in a booth, a waiter wearing a black apron appeared, greeted them briefly and left a chalkboard on the table covered in script.
“Ah, let’s see what the special is today,” Miranda said and grabbed the board. Her eyes roved down it, squinting in the dim light. She paused and frowned at Caldan.
“Maybe not,” she muttered and turned back to the board.
“What?”
“I don’t think you’d like that dish.”
“What is it?”
“Lamprey braised in ginger, vinegar and salt with a blood sauce.”
That’s disgusting, thought Caldan. “Blood sauce?” He thought a lamprey was a type of eel but wasn’t sure.
“They chop its head off, squeeze the fluid out and use it to make a sauce. With chopped onions, red wine, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds… disgusting.”
Miranda stopped reading and looked at him. “That’s why I decided you wouldn’t like it.”
“Can’t I choose my own dish?”
Miranda shook her head and winked. “No. I’m paying, so I’m choosing.”
Caldan fidgeted in his seat while Miranda deliberated. Muted conversations from other diners reached his ears, and another waiter passed close by their table carrying a tray of steaming plates. The aroma of freshly baked bread, garlic, wine and a spicy odor he didn’t recognize wafted past. He could hear Miranda humming to herself.
“Ah, Miranda?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look up.
“Are you sure you can afford this place? I mean, we can go somewhere less expensive, if you like.”
Miranda waved a hand and shook her head. “It’s all right, I know the cook. I come here a lot when I’m in port.” She paused. “When I used to be in port,” she corrected. “Now shh. I’m trying to decide.”
Caldan fingered the dark tabletop, tracing the grain. He looked around the room, but the high screens separating the tables didn’t allow him a view of the other patrons.
“Will you stop fidgeting!” exclaimed Miranda.
“Sorry, I was just… er… taking in the atmosphere,” said Caldan, ducking his head.
Miranda held the chalkboard in the air above her head for a few moments then placed it on the edge of the table. A waiter appeared and bowed slightly from the waist. He collected the board and waited silently.
“We’ll have the spicy eels with noodles and the baked eel with bay leaves. Could we also have two glasses of Camild’s red wine please.”
The waiter nodded and withdrew without saying a word.
“Don’t they talk?” asked Caldan.
“Actually, they do, just not usually to customers. Gives the place a reputation of privacy, somewhere you can be intimate and not be disturbed.”
Caldan grunted. “How come you haven’t cursed yet?”
“Pardon?”
“On the Loretta, you cursed like a… a sailor.” Caldan grinned at Miranda’s annoyed frown. “Don’t tell me you were faking it?”
“I might have been.”
“Then who is the real you, the sailor or the lady in front of me?”
“Both, of course.” Miranda’s throaty laugh filled their booth. “On the ship, well, they expect a certain type of behavior. And it wasn’t a stretch for me to act it up. They wouldn’t have respected someone who didn’t curse like one of them.”
Their waiter returned and deposited two pewter goblets on the table. The only sound he made was the rustle of his clothes. Miranda picked up her goblet, tilted it in Caldan’s direction then took a sip. She swallowed, eyes closed, and a smile spread across her face.
“Excellent,” she murmured. “Cheap but still good. Go ahead, try it.”
Caldan took a mouthful of the fruity wine. To him it didn’t taste too different from any other wine.
“And now?” Caldan prompted.
Miranda twisted her goblet by the stem. “Like I said, that life wasn’t for me, so I don’t have to act.”
“Everyone acts.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, no one shows their true self to strangers. Even to friends.”
“I guess that’s true, if you think about it. It’s sad, though.” Miranda took another sip from her goblet.
“Sad? In what way?”
“That people don’t show who they really are to others, even friends and family. That’s sad. Can you ever know someone, then?” She shrugged.
“If you trust someone you wouldn’t act with them. Like married couples.”
Miranda scoffed. “Caldan, you have no idea. Sometimes married couples are the worst.”
“Why?’”
“Because they want to keep each other happy, or at least try and keep the relationship smooth. That means hiding more in some cases.”
“You’re too cynical.”
“Ma
ybe. But I’ve seen a lot.”
Caldan nodded, acknowledging her admission, but he thought now wasn’t the time to press Miranda further on what was obviously a painful subject.
“What made you come looking for me? The last I knew, you were going to sail with the Loretta when she left, then you show up. How did you find me?”
Miranda wrinkled her brow and gave Caldan a long, searching look. “After I decided to leave the Loretta, I spoke with Captain Charlotte. I didn’t want to go back to the city where I grew up for…well, for a few reasons. She gave me some good advice, but in a way that made it harder for me as well. Too many options can confuse you sometimes.” She paused and brushed a lock of hair over an ear with her fingers. “But staying in Anasoma felt like the right decision. There’s plenty of work, if you aren’t fussy, and plenty of opportunity, if you have some ducats and a plan. It’s a huge city and a good place to try and make a living in. Then I thought about you and that we are in similar situations, and two heads are better than one. In most cases, that is. And a friendly face and someone to share expenses with could make starting out here a lot easier. I decided to see if you wanted some help. We could work together, and settling in would be easier for both of us.” She lowered her eyes to the table and cleared her throat.
Caldan considered what she said for some time. The silence stretched on as she expected him to say something, but he didn’t have much to offer for his side of such an arrangement.
“That’s kind of you. I mean, it’s a good idea, and normally I wouldn’t hesitate…but…”
“You don’t think we should help each other out?”
Caldan’s smile slipped a little and he toyed with his goblet. He wanted to accept Miranda’s offer but… his decision to trace the origins of his trinket and what he might unearth could be dangerous. As it had proved to his parents and sister. To bring Miranda into that without her knowledge would be unconscionable. Should he tell her… Was he ready to tell anyone yet? Perhaps it would deter her.
“Look,” he said. “Miranda, I don’t have anything much to contribute. I don’t have any ducats, I have no idea what I’m doing with the sorcerers, and I don’t even have a room to stay in at the moment. I’m sleeping in a dormitory with apprentices years younger than me. And on top of this I have other business I need to conduct. Information I need… no, have to find out.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and Miranda leaned forward to catch his words.
A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (Volume 1) Paperback Page 22
