Heartbeat

Chapter 8- Clem

Clem was going straight to bed. She had been up too long and grumbled that she had not advertised strongly enough how much she valued it and needed to re-establish this as her priority. Tired people make terrible mistakes, are reckless and become angry more easily. Clem was walking towards the Res with a speed most people would call a jog. She didn't want to run because she feared she would trip and collapse. Her head still ached from earlier; she had no energy to try to heal herself and was doubtful of her ability even when she was in optimal condition. Injuries had been tricky for her, and she rarely got to practice. Granny rarely focused on healing people. Clem was grateful she didn't make her try. Clem knew Dal was trailing behind her, likely keeping a distance to ensure the streets were safe. Not necessary at this time of day. Everyone was asleep in the early afternoons in the Barrel. When Clem had discovered Dal in Granny's house, pointing a rifle that was too big for them, Clem's hands had shot up.

"Dal! What is going on."

"Granny had a last-minute meeting. She wanted no interruptions and told me to stand guard. So, I'm standing guard."

"What kind of meeting?"

"If you don't know, then I won't," Clem smirked but also doubted Dal didn't sneak a glance.

"What room are they in?"

"Her office, usual."

"I need access to the safe."

"You think that's a good idea with people in the house?" Clem lifted the broken bag with one hand, revealing the Kruge almost pouring out.

"Tell me, Dal, where do I keep this until the banks open?" Dal eyed it.

"What happened to it?"

"I had a moment of weakness and tried to rob myself but then came to my senses." Dal glared at her, and Clem laughed, shaking her head.

"Aren't you supposed to be meeting Win?"

"I'm not going against Granny; she'll be happy I didn't show. She'll get to see her boyfriend."

"She still sees the merch's son?"

"Yeah, she thinks she's got him wrapped around her finger. She has no idea." Clem wanted Dal to focus on Win's abilities, not her personal life. She was also concerned that Dal was maybe seeing too much.

"That's what you're thinking about when you sit here for hours and wait for a possible intruder you get to shoot?"

"Yes."

"Well, focus on something more productive."

"Like what? Win is my student; I need to know how she's failing."

"Ok, this maybe has gone to your head too much; maybe we need to pull back on your authority." A sound of Granny's fakest laugh was heard from her back office. "Shit, that laugh means her meeting ends soon; I'm gonna go upstairs with the bag until they leave." As Dal nodded, they returned to the rigid position she had let go of slack during their conversation. Clem ran up the stairs, two steps at a time. She was being too loud, but she didn't care. She cursed as she tried the knob; it was locked. Granny never allowed Widows to keep anything of value in the house for more than a day but insisted all the doors remained locked. Clem dug in her pockets for lock picks but only found one part of the set. She must have dropped the other earlier.

Clem swore under her breath; this was the fourth set she had lost in a month. Leaning into the door, she heard three men's voices; she knew they must be of a higher class than the Barrel if she was having them meeting here. When dealing with highborn, she liked to imitate their intonations, so they thought she was one of their own. Clem wondered if Granny was meeting with different shops about selling jurda sticks in their stores. Clem was supposed to do it, but she had pushed it back a day or two. She wasn't sure she was the right person for the job anyways. Most shopkeepers were middle-aged men; they wouldn't take someone like her seriously.