Elven Legacy

Chapter 63

Kitera

After their escape, Beth had brought them to one of her hideouts – the top floor of a ramshackle building in the poorest district of Thebrenna, which, Kitera now knew, was nicknamed the Maze for all its tangled, narrow alleys.

A few homeless people crashed here too, on moth-eaten mattresses, couches, or meagre blankets. For all that, Beth was surprisingly resourceful. She, alone, had the key to a back room, in which sat a bed much cleaner than all the others, a nightstand, and a massive drawer chest that took up almost the whole wall. As Beth opened a window that, from the smell, hadn't been open in a long time, she informed Kitera that this was where she sometimes ran her business.

Dharkan had been asleep on that bed ever since, cleaned up now, with stitches and bandages for his injuries. The cuts on his leg and arm weren't as deep as Kitera had feared, which was probably the only reason he hadn't died from blood loss. His eye was still there, by some miracle, but Beth said it would heal slow and painfully, and she didn't think he would ever see through it again.

The whole day after their escape, and late into the night, the Red Patrols scoured the streets and alleys, prowling about the Maze and busting into buildings at random. Kitera hadn't been able to sleep, watching like a guardian hound from the window beside Dharkan. They'd been lucky – so far. No officer had ransacked their building.

Still, Kitera didn't want to overstay their welcome.

So, early in the morning, after accepting from Beth a small serving of tomato soup and bread for breakfast, Kitera was told by her gracious host and a few of the others that she should try Miko's pawn shop, down a nearby alley-way called Wormwood Corner.

She intended to get hers and Dharkan's stuff back, especially their swords and their horses, and she figured it was worth a shot. The guys that shared the space with Beth stressed that, if it was fancy stuff, and fancy horses, then it would be at Miko's for sure.

Kitera borrowed a nondescript, ill-fitting dress of light-brown and russet fabrics, and went out into the foggy morning to seek this Miko individual. Apparently, he liked to start his business early.

Fine by me.

It took some time and effort, skulking about and along stinking back alleys, frequently hiding in recessed doorways with flaring paranoia that some Red Patrol might be just around the corner. Alley dwellers and beggars sometimes stared at her, but she must've looked as penniless as them – or as crazy – because they left her alone. Some mumbled, and one even spat in her wake. Kitera cringed and, on a whim, spat right back, on the dirt beside his feet.

This seemed to earn her some respect as she carried on, passing narrow, crammed buildings in various states of disrepair, with windows that were either smashed in, barred in iron, or boarded in wood planking. Then, she saw it. A sign hanging from a short pole, in the mouth of a side-alley she'd almost missed.

Wormwood Corner.

With a furtive glance over her shoulder, seeing no hint of red uniforms, Kitera slinked into the gloom and fog of the alley. This weather really couldn't have been more over-the-top, dramatically spooky.

Kitera held down a shiver as she walked on, surveying the buildings for a yellow-painted door, as previously described by her new friends.

She crinkled her nose at the rank smell of long-forgotten garbage, and hissed at a dirty blond tomcat when he scurried past her with an obnoxious raspy mewl. He disappeared somewhere behind her, streaking across the fog.

Goddamn cat.

Kitera kept walking, fog wrapping itself around her ankles like cool, mocking fists.