Copper Ravens(77)

“Won’t he starve?” Sadie asked, glancing over her shoulder at the mouthless orc.

“The curse only lasts forty-eight hours. Though he still has his teeth and may well gnaw his way through before then.”

Sadie, now a lovely shade of green that coordinated nicely with Max’s sickly pallor, placed a hand over her mouth as she nodded. Mom patted her youngest’s shoulder, then turned on her heel and marched us out of the cell. Disheveled and filthy, she nevertheless walked down the murky corridors like the queen she was, with her head held high. We encountered no guards, goblin or otherwise, though if they had any sense at all, they’d long since fled.

When we reached the public areas of this fine establishment, I saw that Micah’s assessment was correct—we were in a brothel. Not one of the nicer brothels, either, if nicer versions of that sort of place existed. Based on the jaded faces of the workers, and the empty eyes of the patrons, this was nothing more than a study in hopelessness.

Heads swiveled toward us; wouldn’t you know it, all the workers, and more than a few patrons, recognized the Lord of Silver, despite the fact that Micah was clad in iron. I was definitely going to have to ask him about this notoriety. Thinking that they were about to be shut down, apprehended, or worse, all the patrons and workers fled at once, out of doors and windows or any other conveniently placed opening. Once the place had emptied, we made our way outside into the welcome sunshine.

It was just after dawn, which meant that we’d spent half of yesterday and the entire night as the orcs’ captives. We quickly navigated our way back to the square and soon reached the obsidian fountain where this little adventure had begun. Now that the adrenaline high of our escape was wearing off, we took a moment to rest. Sadie moved to dip her hands in the water, attempting to wash up, but Micah stayed her. By way of explanation, he dropped a pebble into the water, which hissed and smoked as it dissolved.

“Oh,” Sadie croaked. “I guess I’ll stay filthy.” The dissolving stone reeked something awful, and Max retched. Again.

“Now what do we do?” I asked. “Clearly, that wasn’t the way to Dad.”

“Dad never dealt with orcs,” Max said, wiping his mouth on the hem of his shirt. “No matter how deep in hiding he was, he never compromised his morals. Dad just wouldn’t do that.”

“This was some fool’s notion of a way to earn coin,” Micah said. “They saw Baudoin’s son, and assumed—rightly so—that the son sought his father. The orcs attempted to intercede, but their sloppy kidnapping failed. Like as not, Baudoin has not set foot in this market for a long, long time.” Micah looked at Mom while he spoke. Mom didn’t acknowledge him, instead she stared at the fountain, scrutinizing the trail of noxious bubbles. All that remained of the once-solid stone.

“So, where could he be?” Sadie asked. She went on to ask Max what else he remembered, when Mom shook her head.

“Perhaps he isn’t anywhere,” Mom said. “Perhaps…perhaps when he stopped meeting Max, it was because he was…gone.” I slipped my hand into Mom’s and squeezed. She’d been holding onto Dad’s memory for so long, I wondered if it had ever occurred to her that he had died, maybe quite some time ago. Rationally, we all knew that his death was a possibility, but out loud, we had always denied it. Out loud, we claimed that Dad was in hiding, and that he would come back.

Gods. Why were we always wrong about these things?

“What I do not understand,” Mom said, blinking from something other than the rising sun, “is how they managed all of this so swiftly. It is not like we frequent the Goblin Market. Well, most of us don’t,” she added, with a withering look at Max.

“Maybe they were waiting for Max,” I offered, but Max shook his head.

“I never come to the fountain anymore,” he said. “I stick to the bars and the gambling dens. This square is too exposed.”

“Makes no sense,” Mom muttered.

“Come,” Micah said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. The iron armor he’d fashioned from his manacles was certainly not his finest work, and it had rough edges that bit into my flesh, but I didn’t mind. At least he was with me. “Let us leave this vile place.”





24

We trudged back up the hill and away from the Goblin Market, silent save for Max’s occasional bouts of nausea. It had been proven, far, far beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Dad was not anywhere near us, not in body, or spirit, or…Well, let’s just stop there. As much as the evidence pointed toward the obvious, I was not ready to consider my father as passed on. Not now, and maybe not ever.