House War - The Hidden City Part 23

Helen wrote things down on the slate she also pulled up from under the chair. The chair was her cave. And her throne. Jewel had only really seen her stand up once or twice, to measure Rath.

She finished quickly, and when she was done, Lefty pressed himself into Jewel's back, waiting.

"I can do it for four silver pieces," Helen said. She lifted a hand and glared at her son. "Rath's business is good, and we charge him a lot more. We can do this for his friend."

The son's lips disappeared in a thin line. He muttered something about joining the beggars, and his mother muttered something about cutting his leg off so he'd look right at home.

"How long will it take?"

"Three days, unless it's urgent. You said these were the only clothes he had?" When Jewel nodded, the woman sighed. "Two days, then. I can't do better. And I can't promise you a decent color; I'll use the ends for things, so it's going to look a bit of patchwork."

"If it's warmer than this, and it fits, who cares?"

Helen laughed. "You'd be surprised," she told Jay. She emptied the bowl of her pipe and looked at it, eyes still narrowed. Not looking away from its fine wood grain, she added, "You're not like Rath, girl.

"But you'll be good for him, in the end. He shouldn't be alone."

"He likes it that way."

"What we like and what we need aren't always the same. Like the clothing," she added softly. "Go on, now. Basket's empty, and Farmer Hanson will be waiting."

Jewel nodded and reached into the satchel she carried on the inside of her tunic, just above her belt. Then she paused. "You know Farmer Hanson?"

"Aye, it happens I do. I make clothing for his useless sons." She chuckled. "And his daughter, if it comes to that. You want to bargain with those sons, if you're short money, though. Daughter's a dragon."

"How did you know I-"

She waved a curled hand, brus.h.i.+ng the words away.

"Pay me when I'm done. You're good for it. And if you're not," she added, with a grim smile, "Rath is, and I'll charge him more."

She was humming as they retreated; humming and smiling, the pipe upside down in its bowl. Jewel smiled as well.

"Jay?"

She nodded at Lefty.

"You like her?"

"Yeah, I like her."

"Good."

She paused a moment, breaking stride, her feet getting a little wetter, his reminding her that she had at least one more stop before the farmer. "Why?"

"She's scary," he whispered. "And she smokes. I don't like burning things."

Jewel touched his shoulder, slowly and gently, as if he were an injured dog that she had almost earned trust from. She didn't speak, but she understood, then, why Arann had kept him safe all these years. Because she certainly wanted to.

Farmer Hanson was happy to see her. Happy to see Lefty. "Where's Arann?" he asked, before Jewel could interpose herself between them.

Lefty, however, looked down at his feet. No answer there.

"He's at my place," Jewel told him.

"Yours?"

She nodded. "He had a bit of a problem with-what was his name? Cliff?" At Lefty's nod, she continued. "But we found him in time. He's seen a doctor," she added, voice low. "A real doctor. From the upper holdings, even. Rath brought him."

The farmer wasn't as impressed with this as Jewel had been. "How bad was it?" he asked, the stall momentarily forgotten. And rain, too, as he stepped out from beneath the awning.

Jewel frowned. "It was bad enough. He's in bed. He has to sleep. The doctor said he can't move for two weeks, but after that, he should be fine."

"And you'll keep him that long?" Meaning, of course, Rath.

"I'll keep him longer," she said, meeting Farmer Hanson's worried gaze with an intensity that was, although she did not know it, much older than her face.

He held that gaze for a moment, and then he smiled. It was a wan smile. "I was worried," he said quietly.

"Me, too. But Lefty came to get us. And Lefty's staying with me, as well."

"Good. You keep an eye on them. I'll have work for Arann when he's fit."

Her smile was brief. "We're late," she said, taking the basket from Lefty's good hand. "Is there anything good left?"

Which, of course, changed the expression on the farmer's face instantly. She was sorry to see it go, because she wanted the approval of this generous, avuncular man, but Lefty wasn't, and Lefty needed the comfort of the familiar far more than she did.

The dreams were bad.

In her own room, in isolation, they were bad enough-but in a room with two boys, one who was under strict orders not to move, they were worse. She woke screaming, as she often did; Rath had learned to wait when he heard those screams.

But she bit her lip, tasting blood, as she became aware that two sets of eyes were now watching her. Lefty's, in the dark, were wide and round; he was out of his bed and in the corner, his hands across his face, almost before she had stopped.

Arann was also out of his bed, or rather, out of the bedroll. He struggled toward her, turning from side to side as if seeking the threat.

"Jay-"

"Lie down," she whispered. Had there been an "s" in either of the words, she would have hissed.

Arann didn't immediately obey, which added guilt to the horror of nightmare. This one wouldn't leave her. It clung to waking, and she could see, imposed upon the safety of her four walls, her closed door, the open streets of the holding at night; the soft glow of magelights, the sound of running feet.

The sound of high breath, sharp breath, young voice.

Her own?

No.

"Arann," she said, struggling now to make her voice as normal as possible, "I had a nightmare. That's all. Just a nightmare. You've got to lie down. Rath will kill me if he has to call the doctor again."

Arann nodded slowly, and she realized that he wasn't-quite-awake. He was ready to fight, and in his condition that would be suicide, but he wasn't awake. Wasn't quite himself. She made a note to herself: No screaming.

Which, given the unpredictability of her nightmares, was going to be d.a.m.n hard.

"Lefty-" she stopped. Lefty, cowering in the corner, was holding a dagger. He'd picked it up where she'd thrown it-near the wall. Near the corner of the room. But Lefty, unlike Arann, was awake.

This type of awake, on the other hand, had no safety in it.

"Lefty, put the knife down," she said, her voice low and measured.

He wasn't interested in listening. This close to sleep, there was only one voice he could hear.

Arann groaned in pain. The sudden movement, the standing wariness, had been costly. But he grimaced and turned to Lefty. "It's safe here," he told the wild-eyed boy. "We're safe. Put it down, Lefty."

Really, really no screaming, Jewel thought. But she waited, and after a long, long moment, Lefty let the dagger drop.

"You have nightmares often?" Arann asked, keeping his words casual, and keeping the pain from their surface. He eased himself back to the floor.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Lefty has 'em as well. He's more quiet, though."

"I'll try harder."

"Is it about your-is it about why you-" Arann coughed.

"No," she answered, understanding both the question and why he had asked it. Lefty had not moved. She knew he'd sit in that corner until morning light finally made its way through the window well. The covered well.

"What was it?"

"A girl," she answered quietly. "A girl Lefty's age. Even smaller than Lefty."

"What was her name?"

"I don't know." Reflexively, she added, "Is."

"Is?"

"What is her name."

Arann shrugged, and winced. "What is her name, then?"

She started to say, I don't know, but when she spoke, the word she used was, "Finch."

"Isn't that a bird?"

Jewel shrugged. "My parents named me Jewel," she said bitterly. "People are stupid about names."

"Where do you know her from?"

"I don't," Jewel said, lying back on the floor, as sleepy as Arann. Which is to say, heart pounding, eyes filled with night.

"You don't know?"

She shook her head, and pushed hair out of her eyes, although there wasn't much point. Rath had the magelight, and the light in her room wasn't. "I don't know."

"But you know her name."

She nodded.

"Is this like-"

"It was a nightmare," she said firmly. Because she wanted to believe it. Rath was a good liar. But it was one of the things that he would fail to teach Jewel, time and again, although he thought it the most useful of his skills.

"What happened?"

She closed her eyes. "It was a nightmare," she said, but the tone of her voice was entirely different. "There were boys, I think. Older boys. They were chasing her. In the streets."

"Which streets?"

"I don't know. Old holding streets. I think-" she paused, and did think. "She ran past Taverson's place. The hole. She ran past Fennel's."

"They're not in the thirty-second."

"No." She was thinking. "The moon was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"I could see it."

Which she couldn't, tonight. Or last night. Probably not tomorrow night either. "I could see moonlight. Some stars. Not many stars, though." She paused again, and then added, "I could hear water."

"River?"

She nodded. "Not rain. It wasn't. Raining."

Lefty's head rose, chin trembling. He still hadn't moved. "It's going to stop raining in three nights."

"How do you know?"

"Farmer Hanson."

"He's wrong more than he's right."

Lefty had the grace to look indignant. She loved him for it.

"How many?" Arann asked softly.

"I don't know. I couldn't see them; I could hear them. They were shouting to each other." She tried to pick the voices apart. "Maybe three."