Page 9 of Chasing the Night

Chapter Four

The Price of Living

Chalice

I nearly died of fright twice before I reached my tent out in the woods. Both accounts were due to my own clumsiness. Every slip and twist brought images of me landing wrong on the damn dagger. I held it with more care than I did the coin pocket.

It was the first thing I cast aside when I reached my pitiful abode. Collapsing onto the fur roll, I wiggled out of my sweater, doubled it, and wrapped it like a package around its own heavy pocket. It became a pillow that I clutched the entire night.

Something softer than a kiss brushed my ankle. It woke me up instantly, but I somehow managed to be still and keep my eyes closed. Which proved to be for the best. Something furry and coarse as a cat’s tongue slid at a snail’s pace over the crevice of my ankle and made no rush to fall from my Achilles.

Chills rolled up my spine, and my shoulders ached to crawl toward my ears. I knew without looking it was the Leaker. A fur covered insect much like the caterpillars of the forest land. The only difference was that the Leakers were small, only the size of a fat sewing needle. Their name came from the insect’s ability to squirm into wounds or orifices. Once it was inside, it caused internal bleeding and insanity.

You’re not wounded, I told myself until the sensation ceased. My eyes flew open, and I shuffled like a spider away from the damn thing. Grateful to still have boots on, I stomped on it until there was nothing left and collapsed back onto the fur.

It was the final straw. The realization of how close I had been to dying alone in the woods shook me to the core.

I took my time, combing my hair with my fingers and wetting it down with what little water remained in the canteen. My reflection didn’t look half bad over the water’s surface when I finished. The dress had been beat until the dust was little more than what might be expected from a travelling lady.

I put the sweater on and ran my fingers over the details of the stitch work. They began to shake without the pressure of the basket against my palm. It felt wrong to head to the bridge empty handed, but the sun warming my back made me think that perhaps my mother was up there, shining her blessing and encouragement down over me.

With only the dagger and a pocket full of coins, I stopped on the Mountain side of the bridge and hesitantly glanced toward the docks.

The Dock Master was responsible for rentals. I wasn’t eager to sleep outside the gate, but it was all I could afford, and it was better than sleeping out in the wild.

A commotion in the other direction caused me to linger. Curiosity was becoming a weakness of mine. Soldiers moved through the crowd, bidding them aside, though it wasn’t necessary. Many were sweeping themselves to the curbside. After a moment of this, I made out three figures in the distant parade. The long, black fur-lined cloak and tanned willowy arms told me at once that it was “The Krypt”, as the people had called her. She was flanked on either side by formidable looking gentlemen. They were dressed in wealth with rich cloaks of their own and the lazy, lanky gait of old money.

“Tis the Kyrpts. Best inside, child,” a woman murmured beside me. She ushered a small child through the gaping door of her shack and peered back down the lane with me.

Some dozen or two feet behind the Krypt, women flocked about. All of them wearing cheap imitations of her exotic apparel. Their lips were painted crimson, and a sea of dark hair announced the trend of trying to be… her.

I used the distraction to dismiss myself. Most of the sketchy looking characters were pressing closer to the opportunity, leaving me free range to scamper past their territory without any hassle.

The problem was, once I made it, the sign announced that creepy looking building as both the Dock Master and Prison. My brows furrowed as I took in the shanty. I’d be lucky if I could fit inside it with two other persons. How the fuck was it a prison?

I glanced over my shoulder to find the crowd dispersing in the distance. Fuck. Scowling, I gingerly made my way up the rickety looking steps. Each one gave an aged squeak of protest that left me absently shivering.

“You’ve some business?” a voice drawled.

I nearly lost my footing. A hand flew out and firmly staked claim to my upper arm. “With grace like that, you’ll soon find yourself requiring attention at the hospital as well.”

A throaty, smothered laugh proceeded the flash of teeth. I’d never seen anyone like him up close. A Spice Lander. My mother said they could swoon the pants off a rooster with just their accent alone. It was true; I felt snared and bared before his hazel eyes. Dangerous eyes.

My breath caught, but I couldn’t look away. Long twisted strands of dark hair draped about his broad shoulders. He ran his tongue over the top of his lower teeth and casually tipped his head toward the shack.

“It isn’t me you’re looking for, young lady. Dock Master is inside.” His mouth twisted up on one side, and he winked on his way past.

I turned and watched him take his leave. Like the Kyrpt, he, too, wore an abundance of black. His coat split up to his waist in the back, with sleeves that concealed his hands.

I shifted, preparing to go inside, and found myself eye to eye with a rot toothed bastard with foul breath. I sucked in air and jerked back, only to taste the laughter that chased me. He had one good eye that was so dark it matched his pupil, the other was ghosted.

“What’s a matter girl? You need a bit of work for supper?”

I grabbed the rail and hopped off the steps. “I have my own wage. I only seek a roof.” I cursed myself for sounding as if we were negotiating and tried my best to summon the bold woman I had been the evening prior.

He laughed so hard spittle sprayed and dramatically slapped his knee. “Ain’t no decent wage for no woman.” He snorted. “Not in these parts. Tell you what… I got a roof in back o’ that cell yonder.”

His brows hefted the insinuation, and I wished more than anything that I had brought that basket. It would have given me something to whack him with. Anger glistened over my eyes, but I was determined not to cry.