Lifeblood

Chapter 35

Present day

Rike sat inside the Fiery Thorn, utterly exhausted. A fine layer of dust coated him from head-to-toe, and he tasted it on his tongue, too. If he closed his eyes for a minute . . .

No. Rike caught himself from nodding off. He had rested fine that morning—to say nothing of the night before (and the night before that).

Mary wasn't dead. He had repeated that like a mantra when the compass wasn't in sight and like a breath of relief when it was. But . . . he didn't know where she was, what had happened, or if she were hurt. Of course he had suspicions—he didn't like them, but they were as possible as anything else. Still, he had no solid lead other than a direction. The barkeep had nothing to say about Ajerchan traders—none that matched Rike's description anyway.

Someone sighed as they collapsed on the empty stool beside him. The cadence sent a note of alarm through Rike, and as he glanced left he nearly choked on his own spit. Rike coughed into his arm, blinking away reflexive tears as a familiar figure ordered a drink. He cleared his throat, gathered his charm, and plastered a smile on his face.

"Raimi!" Rike clasped a hand over the man's shoulder. "It's been awhile."

Raimi's spine went rigid, eyes darting between Rike, the door, and the barkeep who was too busy to notice. Rike dug his fingers in as the muscles underneath tensed.

Still a mouse.

"Where's everyone else? I haven't seen them around—don't tell me business is so urgent nowadays there's no time to talk to an old friend?"

Raimi stammered unintelligibly, clasping the strap of his satchel hard enough his veins bulged. "Are you trying to make a scene?" he finally hissed out, then paused, inhaling through his nose. "Sawel's off your back for two seconds, and instead of thanking whatever god is convenient and disappearing, you come back here? Do you have a shred of sense in your body?"

Rike laughed like Raimi had told a joke, but hushed his voice to the same level. "If you're worried about a scene, let's step out." Louder, he said, "We can get drinks later! Let's go meet up with them before the shops close."

There had been a time when Rike had pitied the easily-intimidated man—before he better understood the length of Raimi's self-preservation. Now, it made dragging him away from the busy streets to a quiet alley far easier than if Raimi had an ounce of loyalty in him.

Raimi's complaints rose in frequency and volume as Rike shoved him backwards, his heel catching on an abandoned well. His arms lashed out for something to grip, but there was only Rike, who snatched the fabric of Raimi's shirt, barely preventing him from falling into the well.

"Gods, Rike! What do you want from me?" Blunt nails dug into Rike's wrist.

"Huh, here I thought you'd be more eager to help a dear friend out." All pretense of amiability from Rike's expression dropped. "I'm looking for someone."

Raimi scoffed."You must have less brains than I thought—unless Ivo was right about 'The Great Astar' falling for some—"

Rike's grip loosened and Raimi's breath caught, his clasp on Rike growing sweaty. "There's nothing to be done about it," he spat.

"So they do have Mary," Rike tested.

"N—" Raimi's face went oddly pale and he released his breath through his teeth. "Whatever. With that compass you'd find her eventually, so it doesn't matter who told you."

"I like your thinking." Rike let the fabric slip another inch. "Tell me more."

"Alright! Alright; anything you want. Just"—Raimi swallowed—"let me stand a bit from the edge. Gods."