The Charlatan

02. For a Song

It was nearly moonrise before Clara dared to move. As she had suspected, nearly the entire Vendor District had dropped everything to aid the royal constabulary in their search for her. "A thousand gold pieces for the brave and loyal citizen who finds the thieving rat!" Clara could still hear some of the force recruiting. No one seemed to know about the Charlatan, or that they would wake to bankruptcy at sunrise.

Clara watched as the last of the disgruntled customers shuffled out of the bar. She remained still even as Charlie locked the door and flipped the light switch. "Locking up before moonrise! The gold we'll be losing..." Charlie muttered to herself as she made her way over to Clara's hiding place. Clara stood slowly, and the two young women stared at each other. Clara was suddenly at a loss for words. The customers Charlie had kicked out were still complaining at the door, and the constabulary were yet recruiting citizens for their search. "If they continue recruiting at this rate, you'll be found before moonrise." Charlie tapped her fingers on the bar counter impatiently. As suddenly as her tongue had tied, Clara blurted out, "You need to get me out of this city."

Charlie smiled, but there was no humour in her eyes. "For a song," she said, just like every other time Clara had needed a favor. Clara laughed stiffly.
"You'll find any excuse to snatch an extra gold piece from me."
"Friends ride free. Family pays cheap."
Charlie recited the old Passerinian proverb as she led Clara to the back entrance of the bar. "Shen will return soon. I cannot keep out the barkeeper," she opened the back door and peeked out, "You owe me a damn good explanation for this mess, but I fear you do not have the time." Charlie paused as she scanned the square outside. Minutes passed in silence before she spoke up again. "The square is clear. Take the dimly lit paths southward and you just might skirt the guards at the gate as they change shifts for moonrise. Be safe, and run swiftly."

Clara moved immediately. She squeezed Charlie's shoulder as she passed her, and she sprinted down the dimly lit area. She hid in narrow alleyways and hopped low fences, barely missing members of the search party after her. The sky was rapidly growing darker, and Clara spotted a sliver of the moon rising overtop the Living District. She yearned for a warm bed and bath. Her stamina was failing and she hadn't slept in two days. Her muscles screamed at her every time she moved, and it was getting harder to quiet her breaths. Clara came to a taller fence and, exhausted from thinking, she automatically moved to climb and hop over it.

As she dropped down the other side, relief and dread both poured over her at once. The gate to the Citadel was just in front of her. Her exit was right there, along with a massive group of nighttime revellers and constabulary. Several members of the group seemed to be arguing over something, but the majority had looked to Clara as she had thudded onto the cobblestone. Shit!

"Speak up! Name yourself and what you hope to accomplish by trespassing on private property." An older member of the constabulary had stepped forward, sword in hand. Clara didn't know what to do. No one had yet recognized her as "the thieving rat" everyone in the city was looking for, but it looked like she had been running around private property to get here. If she wasn't arrested for high treason against Velt, she definitely would be for this. Especially if she did not cooperate. Which she did not intend to do. Clara breathed hard as she weighed her escape options, and was very much aware of the speed of time passing. The moon was almost completely visible overtop the Living District and if she dallied longer, Clara would be facing twice the number of reinforcements at the guard change.

Suddenly, one of the guards who had been arguing with a citizen farther away let out a loud yelp. Attention turned back to the squabble for a brief moment, and Clara realized that this was her chance to flee. Run! RUN! Clara cursed at her leaden legs, which refused to move. Her chance was slipping away. Just as panic started to set in, Clara felt someone grab her arm and yank her toward the gate. Confused and exhausted, Clara stumbled after the mystery person.
"Are you going to run or not?!"
A harshly accented voice pierced the cloud of confusion that had amassed around Clara's mind and it spurred her to action. Drawing on what was likely her last bit of strength, Clara once again took up a sprint. Awareness returned to her as she ran and the muffled voices behind her cleared.
"After them! Arrest them!" The guards were chasing Clara and—

"Air."
What? Clara turned to look at her mystery partner. A rather disconcertingly cheerful foreigner looked back at her. Typical Genesese: slender, with light features that almost glowed whenever they ran under a streetlamp. "My name is Air," he heaved in accented Velte. "They're after me for wartime busking, which I think is rather ridiculous. Joy and festivities are even more important during wartime! Citizens need hope! Besides, when is Velt ever not at war? But alas, they do not agree." Air's statement was punctuated by a flying stone from someone behind them. There will be more war to come after sunrise, Clara thought. Every country on the continent was going to attack the capital once they knew that Velt had no gold to repay its debts to them. "So. What did you do?" Clara glared at the overly cheerful (and nosy) troubadour, and responded with a clear and resounding "Fuck off."

Air started laughing, but stopped abruptly after he tripped over loose cobblestone. "I am decidedly sure I just saved your neck from the noose. Fugitives should stick together."
"I am not a fugitive."
Air glanced back at the crowd of guards still chasing them before giving Clara a pointed look. Clara groaned. She was so tired. She wanted to sleep. She wanted this overly talkative stranger to stop asking her questions. As flying stones were replaced by bullets, however, she decided that first she needed to get out of this city. She huffed, "I'm a courier." Not quite a lie.
"Incredible, Dispatch hires Vulghebt?"

As a courier, Clara was fluent in a great number of languages from Velt's surrounding regions, including Genesese, in which the word 'Vulghebt' refers to a notably obscene and unprofessional sort of person.

Clara very nearly turned to punch Air in the mouth, but Air suddenly pulled her sharply left. They had somehow passed through the Citadel gates alive, and Air was making way for the river.

Clara and Air hid among the river's thick reeds until the constabulary gave up their search. The moon was now clearly visible over the towering curved walls of the Citadel. The impressive fortress loomed over Clara, and what she once felt was beautifully grand was now mightily oppressive. She and Air crouched in silence; Clara did not know for how long. The water around her chilled her and she found herself almost nodding off several times. It may have been hours, or it may have been minutes, but Clara was fast losing her fight against the dream world. Air mumbled something to her, but all she could hear anymore was warbled noise. In an instant, she gave up and fell into a pile of gold, bankruptcy and the Charlatan pushed to the back of her mind.