Page 6 of Veil of Web and Ruin
I nod. It’s not yet mid-morning, and I need to wait for the full cover of darkness, which doesn’t leave much, if any, room for mistakes.
‘I’ll get it to you before midnight,’ I promise before I walk away, slipping into the crowd, my mind whirring as I weave back through the stalls.
Stealing poison from the priestesses will be a new low, but the rewards will be worth it. A job for Kay. And Rula will no doubt owe me, too, though she didn’t specifically say as much. Still, maybe she’ll owe me just enough to keep Tella off my back?
The extra money from the vials was definitely an unexpected bonus. It’s enough for me to buy some flour and milk, but rather than taking my unexpected spoils home to eat, I first head out beyond the slums.
Outside the ramshackle houses propped at the edge of the sixth ring of Wrohelm are a few sparse groves of spruce trees and, for those brave enough and dumb enough to risk a climb, fresh eggs.
Disappointment rises as I climb not one but three trees, only to find each nest is already empty. But I’m not willing to give up without a fight, and it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to be. Not until nightfall anyway.
With my determination steeled, I continue deeper into the grove, and my pulse spikes as I spot another nest. It’s hard to tell from down here, but something makes me think it’s full. Seriously full. My hope reignites, and I once again set the milk and flour down, then start to climb, hauling myself up, scrambling and finding purchase on even the smallest holds.
Climbing sets free a part of my soul that the High Hold didn’t manage to strip, my body inching further and further away from the life to which I am currently tethered, allowing me to lose myself in the view that stretches around me.
I swing upwards, higher and higher. Several of the thinning branches bow, but they don’t break under my meagre weight. An upside to being painfully thin.
Long gone are the days of muscles and strength, and yet as an unfamiliar ache pulls at my cheeks, I realise I’m smiling.
I’ve undoubtedly lost some of my fighting skills, and I’m sure that if I were to spar again, my footwork would be worse than when I was nine years old, but I’m lean and light, and the perfect composition for tasks like this.
In this, at least, I can excel.
When I pull myself level with the nest, I beam. Not just one egg or two, but a whole cluster. Seven. Seven!
‘Sorry, bird,’ I say as I take them one by one and slip them into the pockets where the vials were resting earlier. Seven eggs. That’s almost the most I’ve ever found in one go. It won’t just be pancakes – it’ll be boiled eggs, too. My stomach roars at the thought of it. Of being full. I wonder, even though I know it is a fantasy, if I could possibly bake a cake.
The last time I had something sweet, Mother was still alive, and we were still living in the fifth ring. We had no magic, but we had each other.
Well, as much as Father remained after Florian’s death.
In the beginning, Father’s drinking was to blunt the pain, but in the end, he had to drink to survive. He’d checked out of our lives long before his death, and it was hard to now remember the man he was before our ruination.
Shaking myself back into the moment, I continue back down to the ground and force myself to think of happier things. Of pancakes. I won’t let the past steal today’s wins from me.
With my new haul, I move even more carefully than I did when I had the vials in my pockets. Even a slight jostle could break siskin eggs, so I slow my steps, trying to weave carefully through the press of unwashed bodies.
It almost works.
I’m in the alley that leads home when a small child runs smack into me.
‘Sorry!’ she says, wide-eyed. Simultaneously, I hear the crack in my pocket and feel the sudden dampness that seeps through to my skin.
‘Fuck,’ I mutter to myself, only to see that the child is still there. She is looking up at me, terror on her face, like I’m going to do more than just swear at her.
‘It’s fine,’ I say as I sigh. ‘Don’t worry.’
She flashes me a relieved smile before darting towards the market. My heart sinks, and not just because of the lost eggs, though I don’t want to think of how many she broke. She was so emaciated that it was impossible to say how old the girl was. Maybe six, seven? I bet all she’s ever known is this life. This poverty. This starvation.
Though maybe that’s easier. Easier than knowing there’s a whole different world out there, where people have so much food they don’t even bother finishing what’s on their plates.
‘Guess what?’ I say as I open the piece of metal that’s our door and then slide it back into place once I’m inside.
Kay jumps up from where she’s sitting by the fire. I’ve told her a couple of times that we really shouldn’t waste decent firewood until it’s cold enough that our breath fogs, and I can’t decide whether she keeps forgetting … or just doesn’t care about the risk of inhaling wood smoke all day. But I guess it’s not as bad as dying from the cold.
‘What? Did Rula find me a job?’ she asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.
I open my mouth, momentarily considering whether I should tell her that maybe … maybe there’s a chance she’ll have a job by the end of the week.
