NG EY

3 | A jack of leaves.

The death doesn't get to me anymore. Not since I lost Aleande.

I hadn't heard about that either. It really has been too long.

Where've you been all this time?

Meetings, mostly.

The Wellspring's back window was unlocked, as Kellyn expected. He squeezed through the slim gap it allowed and landed on his toes in a storage room that smelled of dust and vegetables. As always. Listening for footsteps, he crept to the door and knocked twice, then once.

A grumpy Cyril turned the knob and thrust dim daylight into the room around her large, tanned form. Her once-white apron was smeared with the juices of something suspicious.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi."

"Bellberries by the sink," she replied, already halfway back to the kitchen.

While Cyril washed stained dishes and glasses with her unique fervor, Kellyn let a few cool berries melt on his tongue. "Haven't had these in ages," he hummed.

"Don't expect any more for a month, at least. Harvest's been bad."

He nodded and took a couple more before taking his very first steps down the hallway leading to the tavern itself. He pushed one of the two swinging doors open.

He was surprised by how quiet it was. There were conversations, sure, but he had always expected drunk people to be more rowdy. A certain tenseness hovered over the crooked nenimac tables and stools. The bartender, Audra, glanced up and narrowed her eyes at him, but looked away just as quickly, staring at the countertop that she was wiping.

"Hey!" A man with a toothy smile waved at him from the pool table, and Kellyn met his eyes before approaching. He seemed innocuous enough. "What's someone your age doing in a place like this?" he said. "What are you, fourteen?"

"Twelve," Kellyn said.

One of the pool players was leaning over the gray carpet of the table, winking experimentally down the length of a cue. "You'll never make that, Valkin!" he scoffed as he stood.

"Watch me," Valkin replied, stone-cold. He raised the back of his cue, lined up his shot, and hit the off-white ball near the top. It gracefully hopped over the two iridescent balls in front of it, one deep green, the other medium-light purple, and tapped a radiant, dark orange ball with a ringing clack. The cue ball bounced safely away, while the orange ball sank cleanly into the middle pocket. Kellyn grinned.

Valkin was still stern. "Lucille. Like I said." He paused, and sighed. "Good game."

The man who had called to Kellyn threw his hands in the air, while the not-small crowd of spectators erupted into hoots. The third player leaned over her pool cue, smirking. She looked like she was about to say something, but didn't. Valkin glared at her anyway and sat down at a nearby table, downing the rest of his whiskey. The glass joined the others.

Kellyn swallowed and, over the roar of noise, yelled up at the toothy man, "Where's Fox?"

"Fox?" He looked around. "There's a show soon," he called. "He'll be over there. Why?"

Kellyn shrugged and wandered in that general direction. He found a seat near a low platform which he presumed was a stage. The ruckus continued as people gradually approached, and he looked to the sign on the wall: 'Next Showing: 4:15'. The clock above it was stuck at about 13:40.