Chapter 6: Old Habits, Pouring Rain

Chapter 6 - Old Habits, Pouring Rain

“What?”

The voice carried enough gravel to make the roads safe from here to the capital after a cold snap. The kind that snaps colder than my old lady after I missed the third birthday of our son in a row.

The little tyke had to be ten by now. The last I had seen him had been two years ago, and even then he probably could have taken the man behind the counter in a fight. Neck like a twig, nose like the beak of some exotic bird, red, long, and sharp. Tying the voice to the face was about as hard as figuring out where my life had taken a turn down the lane of past mistakes and discount hauntings. The rain drummed on the roof of the apothecary, and the man was trying to keep up, tapping the counter with fingers stained yellow from decades of trying to poison himself.

I didn’t trust an apothecary who couldn’t finish a job as simple as that.

“I’m looking for some herbs.”

“Tried visiting the market? I hear thyme’s in season.”

Prolonging this would only make it more probable I’d leave here with a murder charge. I grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and pulled him over the counter. Pots and vials clattered to the floor, leaving trails on the muck kicked in by what unfortunate souls had shadowed the place before me.

“I’m skipping town in two days. They’ll never find me, so I don’t need to care if they do find you, or your corpse.”

My fingers played on the hilt of the sword, listening to the whispering. I pushed my palm on the pommel, making sure the blade stayed in its sheath. Leaning on the man was fine, he probably even expected it, but drawing the sword was like playing with fire mana in the Church of Pyrophobicus the Rabid. The rain and my conversation with the so-called captain had left me in a mood darker than the place where the Grafted King’s soul was probably being tanned at this very moment, and I didn’t want to take the chance.

I let the apothecary go, and pushed him upright. I wiped my hand on his shirt, making sure to do both sides to keep things sanitary. “Let’s try this again. I have a friend with a fever, and the only prescription is more mana herbs. I have a bad hip so if you try to turn this into a game of tag, I’ll cut off both of your legs to make it fair.”

“Relax, sheesh. I’m running a legit business over here. People come asking for herbs, I play it safe. Thought you were a copper.”

“Would a copper cut off your nose if you don’t get those mana herbs to me right about now?”

“They wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire, so probably not.”

The man turned away, grumbling and muttering to himself. I chuckled and picked up the crumpled pack of cigarettes on the counter. Hadn’t had one in two years. But before all the ruckus with the Outworlders started, I hadn’t touched beer either, so what did one more broken promise mean?

I fished out a cigarette and lit it with a flicker of Chore. Maybe someone would consider it a technicality, but if there ever was a mundane task, it was giving light to a person desperately needing to relapse. I sucked in the smoke and let it go from my nose, savoring the subtle hints of disappointment.

The man slapped a handful of wilted green leaves on the table. He wrapped them into a bundle of brown paper, tying a thin cord around it. “Make them into a tea with water that has stopped boiling, steep for at least two hours. Keep the temperature stable.”

I took the stub out of my mouth. When I had been a boy with more time than sense or money, I made cigarettes last a day and a half. “Don’t have time for that.”

“It’s your loss, the tea tastes great.”

I threw him the kind of look that ends conversations moments before a sword does.

“Grind it into a paste and rub it in. That’s the fastest way, but it’s still your loss.”

I crushed the stub on his counter, twisting it into a tiny monument standing in salutation to our inability to be civil to each other.

“I told you, it’s not for me.”

***

The rain banged on my helmet like I was a particularly boring glockenspiel. I pressed my chin between my shoulders, but it only widened the seam at the back of my neck. Water poured in and ran down my spine, dribbling into my chainmail underwear. I would spend an hour wiping the armor dry, or a week creaking and smelling like rust. The chances were about fifty-fifty.

I had paid for the herbs, and paid fairly. The day was getting to me, the bandit, the so-called captain, being swindled by a barkeep. I shouldn’t have taken it out on a random apothecary, but knowing this town, he had deserved it one way or another.

***

“What?”

Compared to the previous one, this voice was smooth, worn soft by all the smoke it had blown up some noble’s posterior.

“I have a bounty to cash in.”

“Name?”

“My or the bounty’s?”

The clerk sighed, smacking his lips. The eye roll made my fingers twitch. The taste of smoke lingered on my tongue and teeth, making my mouth sticky. I focused on the desire to wash it off with a stiff whisky or three to avoid saying something I’d regret to the clerk.

Maybe the bounty would be worth it, but at the very least they could take that Rosaline broad off my hands. Another snide remark by her and I’d break another promise. Hitting a lady never sat well with me, but I could make an exception for a bandit.

“We’ll start with yours.”

“Viktor.”

“With a C or a K? Full name?”

“Either is fine. Full name is Vicktormendorf von Ausgulten-bingen-bongen of Ulm.”

“Of Ulm? You’re a long way from home, Victor.”

“It’s not a home.”

The clerk scribbled on his papers as I fished around my pocket for another cigarette. A reflex. Of course there were none. I had kicked the habit, but it had kicked right back. I clenched my jaw, telling myself not to buy any after getting out of this office.

“I’m holding Rosaline, a commander of the Twin Moon bandits. They’re masquerading as a secret troop for the king.”

“Banditry AND treason gets you beheaded twice. Maybe the executioner can do it sideways?”

I winced as the clerk mimed cutting something into three halves, but that was the way the cookie crumbled for bandits that got dumb enough to get caught. She knew the risk, and no matter how many daggers she could hide between her buttocks, it wouldn’t make me reconsider.

I’d learned that particular lesson a long time ago, or at least I prayed I had.

“There. The paperwork is finished and the constables will collect the bandit in question shortly. The city is grateful for your service, Viktor.”

“The city can pay me for it instead.”

“All in due time. We’ll need to—”

“I’m leaving town. If the city’s wheels don’t have enough grease to roll this transaction over the finishing line, maybe someone else does. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Make sure you have the bounty.”

The clerk glanced out of the window, out to the grey and wet street. His thin hair was pressed on his skull, like it had been flattened by the rain outside.

I waited for his answer, but found my hand in my pocket again.

“You don’t happen to smoke, do you?”

“No. It’s a filthy habit.”

I sighed. I bet he didn’t drink, either.

***

“Ladies.”

Two pairs of eyes turned to me, one bulging and moist, the other sharp and clear like the edge of a dagger. Rosa’s arms were pulled behind her back. It made her stick her chest out in a way that she either couldn’t help or I couldn’t ignore, even if those things weren’t really in opposition to each other.

I checked the belt wrapped around her wrists as she glared at me. Its other end was tied to the bars on the window. After seeing more of the town, they made more sense to me now.

Ornik cleared his throat like only a toadman could.

“Respectfully, I’m a male of my species. At least currently, that is. It’s not all so clear cut all the time, but—”

“Ornik. Respectfully left town before we arrived and took courteously and thankfully with them. Has she behaved herself? How is the princess?”

Rosa pushed her back into my chest, craning her head back to look into my eyes. I tried to move my gaze, but the view she was presenting down her shirt was almost as hard to resist as the idea of another cigarette.

I pushed her, interrupting whatever she was about to say. “Down, girl. We’ll stay put until tomorrow morning and then I’m handing you over to the locals.”

The soft expression turned hard, plump lips baring white teeth and a sharp tongue. “What are they even going to pay? My gang will double it.”

“I didn’t ask, so I can’t take that offer.”

I sat on the edge of the princess’s bed. She had gone through even more than me. I was a wreck, driven onto rocks by my own hand, but she had seen her father murdered in cold blood by the Outworlder.

Rosa strained against the belt, leaning forward toward me. Whatever she was going to say was only going to make me angry or uncomfortable in a way I wasn’t ready to face, so I pressed my finger on her lips, shutting her up.

“Girl, don’t embarrass us both. Ornik, I need to have these herbs ground into a paste. Do it for me, won’t you?”

Ornik took the bundle from me with a nervous ribbit.

“You’re acting weird, Victor. And what’s that smell? A bit like tar? Does it come from your mouth?”

“The rain washed away the gilding of this place. We’re all just barely hanging on, Ornik.”

“I actually have sticky fingers. The webbing helps with that especially when it’s wet!”

I made a non-committal sound. The toad couldn’t pick up on the mood at all. Even Rosa had more sense than he did.

I leaned my arm on the window and peered out into the grey downpour. I didn’t remember when it had rained this hard the last time, because I had worked so hard to forget. I banged on the windowsill with my fist, making Rosa and Ornik twitch.

The princess turned in her sleep, a frown and beads of sweat on her brow.

“Hang in there, little one,” I muttered.

The scrape of the mortar mixed in with the drumming of rain.

I wish I had one more cigarette.