Night's Cold Embrace

Chapter 15

Numb limbs brought Garrett down paths he didn't remember taking, through buildings he didn't remember entering. After having grown accustomed to the clamour of anguished sobs, piercing screams and mayhem of the previous night, the silence that daylight bred brought unease rather than relief to Garrett. The City wasn't a bustling hub of trade and travel, but it was never this quiet.

The last licks of the fire burned feebly as blackened wood crumbled into piles of ash. Garrett had to turn his head away when a warm breeze swept the grit up to his face.

His gaze landed on a bisque doll resting atop the burned wreckage. Its lace dress was scorched and its milky white face was marred by fine cracks, but it was otherwise intact. He averted his eyes when he saw the still, tiny hand grasping its leg from beneath the ruins.

The crowds had cleared, but every so often Garrett would take cover when he heard heavy footfalls approaching. The Graven had stolen the City Watch uniforms from the guards, but had marked the backs with a cross painted in blood-red paint, or perhaps blood - he wouldn't put using the blood of their dead enemies beneath people as enraged and antagonized as they were.

When the guards had passed, Garrett closed the gap between the dangerously lit road and the safe confines of the shadows. The Graven had congregated in the aristocratic district, leaving the slums almost devoid of the fanatics. Garrett sighed and righted himself as he reached the entrance to Black Alley, groaning as the movement drew more blood from the wound in his shoulder. He pushed open the wooden doors with his uninjured palm, then descended the steps into Basso's workplace.

Thankfully, Basso was alone. He raised himself from his desk when he saw who had entered.

"Shit, Garrett!" Basso scanned the room. He rushed to grab a nearby chair, which Garrett more than willingly let his exhausted body collapse onto.

"You okay? What the hell happened to you?"

Garrett grunted as he shifted in his seat, replying with a gruff "I'm fine" before accepting a dirty rag. He clamped it down over his shoulder to staunch the blood flow, then turned his head towards Basso. The man's features softened when he realized that his friend was relatively unharmed.

"Basso, there's something you should know."

"Oh? Is it why you look worse than Stewart when he fell out the second floor window of the Siren?" Basso chuckled to himself at the recollection.

Garrett sighed at the man's lack of understanding. "She's dead, Basso."

Any trace of a smile crinkling the features of his face vanished as his eyes met Garrett's. "You don't mean - Not..."

Garrett looked away to give Basso some privacy while he processed the news. He heard him softly mutter a curse under his breath and exhale sharply as he ran a hand over his face. "Who did it?"

"You've heard word of the City's rising revolutionist by now." Garrett glanced in Basso's direction again. Realization slowly dawned as anger replaced despair.

"Of course." Basso forced out a laugh as he slammed the coin purse he had been holding onto his desk, then sat down in an empty chair. "Should've known. Only a twisted fuck like that would murder an innocent woman."

"Would murder innocent children," Garrett added, a trace of venom piercing his normally detached tone.

The two sat in silence for a spell, neither attempting to say anything to the other. There were no words that could ease the situation in the slightest. Outside, those oblivious to the loss cheered and sang drunkenly of the fallen rich who were put in their place by the Red Rebellion. Garrett clenched his teeth as they praised its mighty, righteous leader.

As if spurred into action by the lyrics, Basso abruptly sat up and stomped to a darkened corner of the room. He rummaged through some boxes before bringing out a dusty bottle and two mugs from a cupboard. He popped open the cork and sloshed generous portions of the amber liquid into the mugs. He handed one to Garrett and raised his own.

"To the Queen of Beggars," he said in a composed, strong voice. "The most respected woman in the City. To a person who actually gave a shit about others and was willing to do something about it."

Garrett took a swig of the brandy, then placed the cup gently onto the floor. He wasn't surprised to see Basso out of the corner of his eye, already reaching for the bottle again. With a pained groan, he raised himself on shaky legs and trudged to the door. At the moment, the need for sleep was blissfully distracting. The only thing on his mind was finally getting some rest. The thought stopped him in his tracks.

"Basso," Garrett turned to face the intoxicated man. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who would be able to take in a girl, would you?"

Intrigued, Basso leaned against the desk. "Depends. Who're we talking 'bout here? Criminal? Orphan? Whore?"

"No, nothing like that. She's a noble."

Basso let out a laugh of disbelief. "You're not serious, are you? Since when do you care about the nobles of the city? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"I don't. We crossed paths - " Garrett paused, "incidentally in the chaos last night. She's stuck in the Tower until I can find a safe place to send her off to."

Basso chuckled softly, looking over at Garrett with a twinkle in his eye, then took another swig from his mug. "I'll keep my eyes and ears open. Jenivere'll let you know if I find someone."

Garrett nodded in appreciation before turning back to the door.

"Hey, Garrett," Basso called back. "Guess it wasn't wishful thinking."

He gave Basso a questioning look before the man continued. "You are capable of using the front door after all."