Science, Eternal Life, and a Traveling Circus |1|

Chapter Fifteen

Patriot sauntered to a stop outside of a pub in the red brick town of Dauks. Hughes tied off the reins and yawned. He rolled his shoulders and climbed into the caravan with a grunt. He unlocked his chest and scooped a handful of golden gears into his pocket, then picked up a mug and dunked it into the water barrel.

Alyn twiddled her thumbs and watched. "What happened to your hands?" she asked. Her head cocked to one side. "They're all covered in scars."

Hughes raised the mug to his lavender plot and drizzled water over the calming flowers. He felt the dirt, grimacing. "Blacksmithing," he answered vaguely.

"Nah, that can't be true," she argued. "Yous wear gloves when you do blacksmithing. You know I ain't got no one to tell. You can trust me with a real answer every once in a while."

Hughes set aside his mug and kicked his chest shut. He flinched and bristled. "Nothing happened. Blacksmithing," he repeated.

Alyn narrowed her eyes. "Yeah? And my horns came from alchemy."

"Shut up, stupid girl." He rubbed his temples, jaw tensed. "And cover up those ears, for pity's sake."

Alyn grabbed her hat and tucked her furry appendages under its cover. She squinted out the back of the caravan. Dust skipped past in a dry breeze. There were no people to be seen in the early evening hour. The street lamps hadn't yet been lit. "Where are Tim and Elliot?"

Hughes pulled a potion vial from a box and stepped down to the dirt road. He followed her gaze. He rubbed the back of his head and lowered his eyes. "They left," he bleakly replied.

The apprentice jumped after him, aghast. "What? Why?" Her brows sorrowfully pinched and she glanced down. She kneaded her scarf. "They didn't say goodbye."

"Oh, don't pout about it," the blacksmith sneered. "Elliot left so that I would stay focused. He believes that he distracts me. He drove off down another road after we crossed the border. But, I know him well. I'm sure he'll appear somewhere soon. He knows where we are headed." He scratched his whiskers and peered across the street. He lifted a finger to the pub. "I will get a room there, tonight. Alone."

Alyn's face fell. "And me?"

"Stay here. Eat whatever we have, I don't care. I just need a night to myself."

The girl shuffled her feet and dug her hands into her pockets. She reluctantly shrugged. He'd been happier with the others. She sensed that their absence weighed on him. His shoulders sagged too low. "I'll be here."

"Good." He nodded and started off.

"Well, goodnight!" Alyn called. "Sleep well!"

The blacksmith glanced back and acknowledged her with a meager wave. He swung open the saloon-style doors and minded the raised step with caution, alerted by a faded sign that hung crookedly under the canvas awning. At the bar, he exchanged coin for a room key, a bottle of whiskey, and a mug and settled in a comfortably isolated corner booth. The air smelled of stale cigarettes and soured booze. The walls were plain and bare of decoration, and the furniture was covered in visible film. Weak firelight flickered in dying lanterns, poorly maintained.

Hughes untucked his shirt and used the bottom of it to clean his grimy mug. His eyes wandered the pub as his square fingers fished around the tinware. The ceiling was crumbling, he noticed. A man in a green vest sat smoking by a window, sporting the uniform of Ban-Ken's employed. He smoked one of their green-ended cigarettes. Hughes looked past him, past a group of locals and past a trio of tradeswomen, uninterested. His eyes settled on a woman in yellow, who quietly leaned over a notebook. His heart fluttered, his breath caught.